T H E AW E N D AW PA S S A G E C O M B I N E S A B L U F F T O P T R A I L W I T H B O A R D WA L K S W H I L E R U N N I N G A L O N G AW E N D AW CREEK. PHOTO BY THE AUTHOR
A Forgotten Forest There’s Actually Much to Explore in This Overlooked Stretch of the South Carolina Low Country BY MIKE BEZEMEK
THE FIRST TIME I REALIZED THAT FRANCIS MARION National Forest existed, my wife and I were doing what most travelers do in South Carolina’s Low Country: Driving 70 mph down Highway 17 through a box canyon of loblolly pines on our way between cities. We were heading south to check out one of the oldest historic districts in the U.S., founded in 1670 by King Charles II. While the coastal region between Georgetown and Charleston was definitely scenic, with matchstick trees, cypress swamps, and blackwater rivers, we didn’t think about stopping along the way. Fairly atypical for me, I barely registered the forest service signs for sites I would later visit regularly, like South Tibwin, Buck Hall Recreation Area, Awendaw Creek, I’on Swamp, and the Palmetto Trail. The reason for my inattention was that my wife and I had recently
relocated to a college town near Myrtle Beach, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the move. I grew up out west, and my interests lay mostly with rugged inland regions where I could paddle whitewater, mountain bike, and hike. Now we lived in a region called the Low Country? As far as I knew, outdoor adventurers never said things like: “The area is rad flat, bro.” “Killer lack of topo lines.” “Would make pancakes brag.” Truth is, I didn’t give the area much of a chance during that first year or so. But an adventurous bike-
rafting trip to Cumberland Island snapped me out of my complacency. What else had I missed in the region? The first place I decided to look were those intriguing signs along Highway 17. I soon homed in on mountain biking the entire Swamp Fox Passage, a 47-mile section of the crossstate Palmetto Trail named for Revolutionary War hero Francis Marion. While information was somewhat limited, the more research I did, the more highlights I came across worth a closer look. That’s how, on a cold Saturday morning in early February, I parked outside a nondescript gate at North Tibwin. Despite the gate being ominously chained shut, a faint footpath passed around a brick wall. I warily followed a gravel doubletrack for about a quarter mile until I came across an even more eerie site. Decaying AUGUST 2022 | BLUERIDGEOUTDOORS.COM
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