"Cheers!" to Table Rock State Park

Basing our crew at Oconee allowed us to take the time to hike and explore all of the mountain parks in the South Carolina Park System.  We had been told by friends (who knew we had four children but who did not have children themselves) to take on the Table Rock hike and see the view.  I knew my kiddos had conquered a good many trails but my Mama instinct was advising me against this one.  After doing a bit of my own research, I went with my gut.  We were going to save that trail for later. 

Avid hikers had called the Table Rock trail challenging and had advised about seven hours to complete the hike.  Research combined with the lateness of our starting time (I swear getting the children out the door was the most daunting task of all of our Ultimate Outsider adventures!) made me want to seek advice from the folks at Table Rock.

We started at the gift shop/ranger station.  The rangers were out so we inquired about the trails from the ladies who were working the retail side of things.  “Do you think we will have enough time to hike up to Millcreek Falls?”  The ladies looked over our brood of young ones with great concern.  We quickly added, “It’s ok.  They hike a lot.”  Both ladies shook their heads in dissent.  “I don’t think you should take the children for that hike but there are a few pools at the base of the trails.  Your children might enjoy playing and splashing around there.”

It wasn’t their dissent that was so bristling.  It was the speed at which it was given.  My husband and I were unsettled and my children were flat out offended.  “We can do it!” they declared.  “I want to hike to the top and then come back and tell that lady about it,” replied my youngest. 

“We won’t go back and brag,” the mama in me felt obliged to say, “but we will go get a second opinion.”

We found the nature center closer to the trail head.  The staff there thought nothing of our children traipsing up to Millcreek.  The kids were delighted that they had been given the official thumbs up.  Their enthusiasm made me proud even as Anchor and I apprehensively filled out the hiker registration form that required us to list our next of kin.  We left the registration card in the box at the trail head, exchanged glances that confirmed our mutual stupidity, lined up and began our challenge.

Though a shorter and less aggressive hike than the one up to the heights of Table Rock, the trek to Millcreek Falls was not for the faint of heart.  Wide trails narrowed and quickly became steep.  The children who carried no packs or responsibility struggled less with the challenge than did Anchor and I.  Still, we had hiked our group enough to know that pacing was key.  We went at our own pace and made decent time.  We didn’t pass many other groups.  The birds provided the background accompaniment with many interjections from the children.  Ben was doing well physically but was tiring of the activity.  Thoreau was commenting about every new animal, tree, rock and leaf.  Wet Foot was gallantly soldiering on and Little Legs was filling whatever silence she found with random questions of great philosophical import.  I was impressed at the depth of her questions but found myself unable to answer them fully as I held her hand and assisted her over root and rock.

On and on we went.  The kids were doing a great job and Anchor and I were keeping up.  We were enjoying our trek and marveling at the ability of these little ones of ours.  We were so impressed with these hikers that we had helped to grow. 

Our thoughts were interrupted when we saw a group of hikers coming towards us.  They were coming back from the top of the mountain.  “Share the trail,” we directed the children.  It was time for a water break anyway.  The children accepted our direction and we passed water and snacks among them.  Their cheeks were pink with activity and light sweat glistened on their brows.  Still, my mama check revealed they were fine.  They were talking and laughing.  

We heard the approaching group of young adults and college kids drawing nearer.  Their complaints grew louder and louder.  Everyone in the group had had a difficult, horrible, awful time- all save one quiet young man who was bringing up the rear of the group.  He wore an exasperated expression as he listened to the complaints of his fellows.  The group came very close now and we saw them drop their collective jaws as they laid eyes upon our young hikers. “Hi!” cried Little Legs with a huge matching grin.  A cloud of shame descended upon the naysayers as they evaluated the children’s physical and emotional fitness on the trail.  They withered under my children’s smiles and surrendered to defeat as they panted their way past Ben, Wet Foot, Thoreau and Little Legs – all save the stoic young man who was bringing up the rear of his group.  He was wearing a satisfied smirk and a laugh almost escaped his lips as he alone returned our greeting with a smile and a wave.  He let out a lusty, “Cheers!” and he meant it with all his heart.

 

We made it to the falls and back again.  The children reveled in their accomplishment and made plans to return and tackle the more treacherous trails.  There are so many wonderful things that hiking teaches and I love seeing my children learn the lessons of the mountain…but no, we did not let them go back and brag to the ladies in the gift shop.