Somewhat disappointed by my exploration of Sassafras Mountain in South Carolina, I decided to go on a bigger hike at Table Rock Mountain, just a twenty-five-minute drive east of Sassafras. Wondering what I’d see, I wound my way through Appalachian-like roads until everything opened up and a tall monolithic heap rose out of the ground, becoming the focal point of the landscape. This was a good decision. Even if I didn’t have time to climb it, I thought, it was worth seeing this. It’s beautiful and ancient looking. Like it was born from something mystical beyond humanity’s genesis.
But even though I was happy just to look upon it, once I start moving towards something, it’s hard for me to hit the brakes and turn around. So, after registering at the Nature Center located at the base of the mountain, I embarked on the seven mile out-and-back of the Table Rock Trail. I couldn’t help myself.
The mountain was calling.
To Table Rock Trail
The Table Rock trail itself is fantastic. I met a fellow hiker on the trail who said it’s her favorite one in the area, and I could see why. The mountain itself looks like something that could be standing in the plains of Africa. Large, sculpted granite and metamorphic rock make you feel like you are truly heading into spiritual land, and the copper-red clay dirt lining much of the trail transports you far away from the green earthy tones that make up most of the northern part of the state.
When observed in the wild, one doesn’t look at me and think, “fleet of foot,” I suppose, so it was no surprise when the park’s staff made sure to advise me that the hike up Table Rock is a full day adventure requiring plenty of electrolytes. This was sound advice given the extreme heat and humidity. Back in Greenville, temperatures were expected to approach 100 that day, so I was well aware of the need for solid hydration. But even on a cool day, I’m always sure to have plenty of electrolytes with me, so I wasn’t worried. It would have been more helpful if they had warned me about some of the other dangers I might find along the trail.
Before heading out, the staff indicated I should allot five to six hours for the hike, but I planned for four. As it was, I finished it in three. Perhaps my speed was motivated by a surprising encounter…
Snakes… Why Did It Have to Be Snakes?
Before heading out, the only wildlife I had heard about being of any concern in the area was copperhead snakes. No bueno. They are probably not lethal—well, not totally—but still, if you get bit by one, you need to make sure you get to a hospital in short order. Not easy to do when you’re three miles deep on a trail. I had already seen one snake at the beginning of the hike—some giant black slithery thing that moved along too quickly for me to see its head, but my guess (after conducting a brief internet investigation) is that it was a southern black racer. Whatever it was, I wanted no part of it. As I continued up the mountain and saw all of the red dirt underfoot, it occurred to me that the trail itself provided great camouflage for a copperhead or two.
A fear of snake attacks wasn’t the only reason I started motoring along. I had a baseball game to get back to, and I didn’t want to linger too long on the trail. Especially not in the heat. I wanted to be off mountain and enjoying the AC in my rental car by noon, long before the sun really started blazing. So, I had a giddyup in my step. And it was that combination—fast pace, head down, looking for snakes—that is probably what made me run smack dab into a bear.
It happened shortly after passing this sign…
A Wild Turn at Panther Gap
It happened so fast. Shortly after rounding a turn in the trail known as Panther Gap, I came upon a bear hidden behind a tree, foraging his way up the mountain. If I reached my arm out, I would have been able to pat him on the head—close enough that I nearly jumped out of my skin.
When he saw me, he stood up on his two hind feet, and I could see we were about the same height. “Whoa,” I shouted, raising my arms up in the air, hoping that would deter him from an attack. Fortunately, he wanted no part of me either and when he darted over to the other side of the trail, he looked like some cartoon bear who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Uncertain about how to proceed, I retreated thirty steps until there was a healthy amount of shrubbery and foliage between us.
Thinking it over, I realized that he was probably a juvenile—tall but lean, and not carrying the kind of weight that could totally threaten my existence. Still, I didn’t want to find out. So after a minute or two, I cautiously made my way up the trail, making a lot of grunting noises and yells, clapping my hands, letting him know exactly where I was.
After a brief walk, I found him again, about fifteen yards down the valley, foraging away. He was no longer concerned about me and was ambling along as if my presence couldn’t bother him in the least. Not wanting him to startle any other hikers, I shooed him along (from a distance) until I was sure he was heading farther down the valley. Once I was confident all was copacetic, I continued on my way to the summit—I had no problem finding the energy after that.
A bear! This is a few minutes after our initial run-in 
Juvenile black bear heading down the valley 
Catching my breath after the run-in 
Views opening up as you approach the summit 
Nearing Table Rock Summit 
Upper ridge 
Steps grooved into the top section 
Open rock face up high 
The Blue Ridge Mountains from the summit of Table Rock 
Table Rock Summit Sign
Upon Review
As I descended the Table Rock Trail, and warned other hikers of the bear by Panther Gap, it occurred to me that I’d run into some other bears of late. I recently received some negative feedback from an individual on some of my writing and it had made me start to question my ability. On my writing journey thus far, I’d been lucky enough to be free of such dismissive contempt for a long enough time that I’d been lulled into thinking that the writer life would be without its foils. Without its critics. It was one helluva nice bubble to be in while it lasted.
But a writer friend recently told me that negative reviews are just another step forward into real authorship, which was a nice thing to hear. And I suppose it’s also true—not only for writing, but for everything in life. There are these moments in your career, or in your relationships, or in the pursuit of a dream, when all of a sudden you run into some resistance. Something that tells you that you can’t proceed. Or that you’re doing it all wrong. Some of it isn’t so bad and some of it is scary as hell.
Like a bear in the trail.
But maybe, when you give it another look, that thing or that person you were so scared of is just as scared of you. Or happy to continue on its way, foraging along, going back to not thinking about you at all. Just another bear in the trail that has no idea what you’re about or where you’re going. And why should they? They’re fricking bears.
They’re just looking for a mate, some berries, and a good place to poop.
A little photo dump from the descent…