MUST-VISIT STATE PARKS

Hiking Providence Canyon State Park

A Foot Journey Through Georgia’s Little Grand Canyon

BY MIKE BEZEMEK

One minute we were driving through the rolling hills of rural Georgia. The next minute the bottom dropped away, and a valley appeared below.

This sudden burst of topography, just west of Lumpkin, Ga., foreshadowed our arrival at Providence Canyon State Park.

After parking, we walked past the visitor center to an overlook. Through narrow gaps in the dense forest, ridges and cliffs of red and white were visible. It was a surprising contrast to the otherwise typical Southeastern jungle of oak, hickory, and pine. After driving all morning, my wife and I had finally reached the first destination of our road trip: Providence Canyon, the so-called Little Grand Canyon of Georgia.

Full disclosure, I am a big fan of the real-deal Grand Canyon in Arizona. I’ve run the Colorado River through the Canyon three times and backpacked from the rim to the river and back over the course of a week. I had wanted to see this smaller version ever since I learned that Georgia had an alleged miniature Grand Canyon. Most states across the U.S. claim to have their own little grand canyons. While some fit the tag, others fall short. Given Providence Canyon was on our way out west, this seemed like the perfect opportunity to stop by to explore and judge for it for ourselves.

The first stage of our highly scientific two-part reconnaissance mission involved day hiking the 2.5-mile Canyon Loop Trail into the 9 colorful canyons below the park road. So, off we went clockwise around the rim, happy to stretch our legs after a long drive. Along the way, many viewpoints had overgrown with vegetation or were fenced off—a sign of the ongoing erosion occurring throughout the canyon. In a few spots, we got the occasional glimpses we were hoping for.

From top to bottom, about 150 feet of depth, we saw soil formations composed of reds, pinks, oranges, and whites. Other than the presence of so much emeraldgreen vegetation, the colors did slightly match the real G.C. But how did it compare elevation-wise? The depth of the G.C. varies much over its 277-mile length, but the average depth is around one mile or 5,280 feet.

Now, comparing a miniature “Grand Canyon” in Georgia to the one in Arizona is a risky proposition. It sets up the visitor for a major letdown, so any comparison needs to be qualified with a bit realism and humor. Given the ratio of 150 feet to 5,280 feet, we decided we needed to have only 1/35th the fun at Providence Canyon to call our quick visit a success. All joking aside, the goal was to explore Providence Canyon for what it is, not what it isn’t.

“It’s a bit hard to see,” observed my wife.

“I think we’ll have to hike inside to get a real look,” I said.

After walking about 1.5 miles, the trail turned into the forest. We passed a series of rusty 1950s automobiles, abandoned relics from a homestead that once occupied the site. We followed the trail downhill into the canyon, saying hello to groups of other hikers as we went. On the canyon floor, trail signs indicated the path to the side canyons was in the creek channel. There was only an inch or so of flowing water, braiding its way through snaking channels, so we walked upstream.

We explored in order, starting with side canyons 1, 2, and 3. We soon found that the real gems were Canyons 4 and 5, with sheer colorful cliffs rising above. The only disappointment was that thousands of overlapping names carved pointlessly into the soft sediments. Then we stumbled, no joke, upon a slot canyon. And then another one.

Many people don't realize that a major highlight of exploring the real Grand Canyon, whether running the river or backpacking deep inside, is visiting the many side canyons. Many of these side canyons narrow to impressive slots. If they were located anywhere else—other than a massive and hard-to-reach desert wilderness—these slot canyons would be world-class destinations, much like Antelope Canyon near Page, Arizona, or the Narrows in Zion National Park.

The two slot canyons we found in Providence Canyon weren’t anything quite like those found in the American Southwest, just some narrow passageways eroded into soft clay. But they were easily way more than 1/35th the fun of a world-class slot canyon. Following the previously established equation, these were pretty darn nice slot canyons to stumble across in the middle of rural Georgia.

Our survey of the canyon floor complete, we hiked back up to the visitor center to get ready for the second stage of our visit. After having sandwiches topside, we pulled camping gear from our vehicle. While packing up, we met a trio of backpackers about to start their

own hike. We paused to chat with them about the area.

“The funny thing is,” said one of the backpackers. “This is one of the seven natural wonders of Georgia, but it was created unnaturally, by poor farming practices.”

During the mid-1800s, the forest was cleared for farming, and rainwater runoff began to erode into the soil. The canyon is named for the Providence Methodist Church, which once stood on land washed away into the main gorge.

After dinner, my wife and I slipped on our backpacks and headed out on Providence Canyon’s Backcountry Trail, which winds for seven miles through the 1,000-acre park. There are six backcountry campsites on the trail, all requiring reservations. Our site was #5, an easy twomile hike from the visitor center.

It was almost 7pm when we returned to the canyon floor. The park felt empty and quiet. While hiking downstream through the creek channel, we had our final Grand Canyon-like experience. In the brush nearby, we heard an animal snort. My wife worried it was a mountain lion. I thought it was a feral pig. Whatever it was, it soon moved off through the forest. In camp, later that night, we heard another one, snorting its way along the ground.

Red rocks. Slot Canyons. And wildlife encounters. It was a miniature Grand Canyon after all. Deep in the heart of rural Georgia.

3 More Southern State Parks to Visit

From craggy cliffs to scenic coastlines, these state parks have plenty to offer for late summer and early fall Southern escapes.

BY JEDD FERRIS

Westmoreland State Park

VIRGINIA Approximately 90 minutes from both Richmond and Washington, D.C., Westmoreland State Park is a relatively remote escape on Virginia’s Northern Neck that’s highlighted by its location on a 1.5mile sweeping stretch of the Potomac River. The scenery offers a setting that feels unique to the

PROVIDENCE CANYON STATE PARK COVERS MORE THAN 1,000 ACRES IN SOUTHWEST GEORGIA. PHOTO BY MIKE BEZEMEK

Commonwealth, with waterfront cliffs and wooded trails that give way to a sandy beach where you can hunt for fossilized shark teeth.

Grab a campsite and hike the park’s six-mile trail network, eventually picking up the Big Meadow Trail that leads to Fossil Beach. For a small fee you can also take an interpretive kayak trip—a beginner-friendly, three-mile paddle along the coastline that includes a guided look at the area’s natural history.

Natural Bridge State Resort Park

KENTUCKY The Red River Gorge Geologic Area is hallowed ground for rock climbers, holding some of the best sport routes in the Southeast. But nearby you can also explore the area’s majestic sandstone cliffs at one of Kentucky’s original state parks, which was first opened back in the late 1800s. The main attraction at Natural Bridge is the park’s namesake—a 78-foot-long, 65-foothigh natural arch—and hikers have plenty more ground to cover on more than 20 miles of trails throughout the park’s 2,300 acres.

Book a cabin or a site at one of Natural Bridge’s

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PANORAMIC VIEWS FROM THE NATURAL BRIDGE STONE ARCH IN SOUTHEASTERN KENTUCKY. WITHIN NATURAL BRIDGE STATE PARK, VISITORS CAN TAKE A SKYLIFT TO THE BRIDGE. PHOTO COURTESY GETTY IMAGES

two campgrounds, and rent a kayak or paddleboard on the park’s expansive Mill Creek Lake. For dinner, head to Miguel's Pizza, a popular climber’s hangout with delicious pies.

Huntington Island State Park

SOUTH CAROLINA Set on a barrier island east of Beaufort, S.C., Huntington Island State Park is a coastal escape with plenty of low country splendor—sprawling saltwater marshes, dense maritime forest, and five miles of beachfront. Bring your bike and cruise the eight-mile Island Bike/Hike Trail, while keeping an eye out for loggerhead turtles. You can also cast for redfish and trout from the park’s fishing pier and climb the state’s only publicly accessible lighthouse for a serene view. The park has 100 campsites that require at least a two-night stay.

Where the Wild Things Are

Rare Species and Uncharted Territory Highlight North Carolina’s Headwaters State Forest

BY LAUREN STEPP

Oldtimers say the mountains of western North Carolina eat men. It is a legend easily forgotten on the well-worn trails of DuPont State Recreational Forest or Pisgah National Forest in Brevard.

But plodding through the feral bramble of Headwaters State Forest, Transylvania County’s newest backcountry playground, is a sobering reminder.

“It is not easy getting in and it is not easy getting out,” says Michael Cheek of the North Carolina Forest Service (NCFS). “This is an experience for people who want to be remote.”

Cheek’s warnings echo a passage in the Book of Camping and Woodcraft by Horace Kephart. In the 1906 text, Kephart describes “two powerful mountaineers” who were swallowed by a “godforsaken” laurel thicket near Thunderhead Mountain in Tennessee. “We couldn’t crawl, we swum,” the men recalled. In two days, they only covered four miles.

Navigating Headwaters, a 6,730-acre parcel on the North Carolina-South Carolina border, requires a similar dose of mental fortitude. Generally speaking, this is not a place for the ill-prepared. This is not where tourists squabble over limited parking or line up for the porta-potty. Even on a cloudless Saturday morning in the summer, when golden light pilfers through stands of white pines in that beautifully haunting way, it is unlikely you will pass another human in Headwaters.

“And the Forest Service is fine with that,” says Kieran Roe, executive director of Conserving Carolina, a land trust based in Hendersonville. “The chief goal is conservation, not so much recreation.”

In 2009, Rep. Charles Taylor approached Conserving Carolina about selling his family’s land. Roe’s team instantly recognized what was at stake: safeguarding the parcel from the clutches of developers would mean preserving more than 50 miles of high-quality trout streams, countless waterfalls, rare Appalachian bogs, and the headwaters of the East Fork of the French Broad River. “It was one of the largest remaining contiguous blocks of private land left in western North Carolina,” Roe says.

For a decade, Conserving Carolina worked with The Conservation Fund to raise $20 million for the real estate acquisition while the NCFS drafted a management plan. On September 6, 2018, Headwaters was opened to the public for “low-impact recreation.” That means foot traffic only, no restrooms or visitor centers, spottily marked trails, and, in many cases, gravel roads washboarded by heavy rains.

But what Headwaters lacks in guest accommodations, it makes up for in unadulterated wildness. Its cool, damp coves harbor rare species like the hellbender, green salamander, gorge filmy fern, gnome rock lichen, and brook trout—the only trout species endemic to the area. Since the forest is adjacent to nearly 100,000 acres of conservation lands, it is also a haven for white-tailed deer, black bears, and, as many locals will tell you, mountain lions.

However, natives are tight-lipped when you start asking about summer swimming holes or coveted waterfalls. “I’ve heard talk of upwards of 25 waterfalls in the forest,” Cheek says. “A lot of people like to go looking for them.”

Though even Cheek is hesitant to “give too

much away,” he did offer some insider intel on ways hikers can experience Brevard’s best-kept secret. Of course, you should always tread lightly and come prepared. “People do get turned around. We’ve had two lost hikers since we opened,” Cheek says. “If you’re unable to take care of yourself, it will be an unpleasant experience.”

Three Headwaters Hikes

Bursted Rock via the Foothills Trail

Difficulty: Strenuous Length: 9.9 miles Elevation Gain: 2,680 feet

Headwaters is home to a short segment of the Foothills Trail, a 77-mile footpath that dances along the North Carolina-South Carolina state line. This particular hike follows the Foothills Trail beginning at Sassafras Mountain, the highest peak in South Carolina, and will require that you park a second car at the Gum Gap access area in Brevard. But the views are worth the extra coordination.

Even before you begin your grueling, 2,680-foot ascent, you are rewarded with dramatic panoramas of Lake Jocassee and the Blue Ridge Escarpment from a tower atop Sassafras Mountain. Then, after clomping up and down what feels like an endless procession of mountains, Bursted Rock will compensate you with one of the best, if only, views of the north side of

REESE PLACE FALLS. PHOTO BY KEVIN ADAMS

Table Rock Mountain.

Gravley Falls

Difficulty: Easy Length: 1.2 miles Elevation Gain: 130 feet

Transylvania County is pegged as the “Land of the Waterfalls,” and with good reason. Gravley Falls is just one of the 250-some cascades that can be found in the county. Though this particular waterfall is not as stately as what you may find in neighboring DuPont State Recreational Forest, it is far less crowded.

Like other hikes in Headwaters, the jaunt to Gravley Falls begins at an unnamed gate off of Glady Fork Road. Since Headwaters was owned by a timber company before Rep. Taylor’s family, this particular stretch is dominated by white pines. You can also expect to see some hardwoods and, after a heavy rain, to hear the south prong of Glady Fork running strong. At roughly half a mile, the trail awkwardly dead ends. Follow a faint spur trail through rhododendrons until you see the 15-foot falls. A sandy beach makes this a wonderful, clandestine swimming spot.

Reese Place Falls

Difficulty: Challenging Length: 5.6 miles Elevation Gain: 750 feet

The trek to Reese Place Falls is heart-pounding, even before you get out of your car. To access this 60-foot cascade, you will drive down the very narrow and rutted Gum Gap Road—which should not be attempted without four-wheel drive—until you reach a large, red gate.

Once you find the elusive trailhead, you will follow a series of unnamed forest roads that twist through stands of white pines and crisscross Hickory Flat Creek. There are several Y-junctions, so a GPS unit or map is necessary. The hike then descends to the valley floor, where you will walk through dense thickets of rhododendron and doghobble toward the sound of roaring water. When the understory opens up, you will pass a smaller, 10-foot cascade before following a very narrow, treacherous path up to Reese Place Falls.