Gravity Does It All

Chu Ram Falls

"I think we turn ahead to the left," I said in my role of navigator.

"How much farther?" the driver asked.

"According to the Internet, two miles from Westminster," I answered.

"And the Internet is always right. Remember the time we were following Internet directions in northern Utah and couldn't find the campground?" said she.

"I'll consider that a rhetorical question.  There should be a sign for Chu Ram Falls."

"What kind of name is that for an Oconee county waterfall?"

"Cherokee? maybe? I don't know.   Look, there is the road to the falls!" I said.

She made the turn onto the narrow road marked by the sign stating "Chu Ram County Park".
It was a short drive to the park. We paid our $2 fee to get into the park via the honor system and easily found a parking space in the empty parking area. There was space for at least fifty vehicles. We could hear the river as we disembarked. Our grandson leaped from the car and headed for the sound of falling water. We were unable to keep up to his pace. Perhaps being over fifty years his senior could have affected that.

There is a rather large, about 1200 square foot, building overlooking the river. We walked down to the river beside it.  It was only about one hundred feet from the parking lot to the water. A massive boulder is at the bottom of the waterfall. The waters of Ramsey Creek and the Chauga River join and tumble down a thirty foot cascade.  It's a beautiful waterfall and easily accessible. We sat on the big boulder and felt the mist of the mountain water on our faces. There were few other visitors to the park that day.  Some things are best not shared with a crowd.

We continued on Highway 76, which incidentally is a highway we travel each year to visit Long Creek for mountain apples.   We like to go after first frost, because that is when the Arkansas Black apples are available. This highway has many apple orchards, but it was lunchtime and so we weren't looking for an orchard. What we were looking for was the Chattooga Belle Farm in Long Creek.  We began looking for Damascus Church Road. There must be a half dozen roads named for churches off the left side of highway 76. but we eventually found it.

The Chattooga Belle Farm is a 138 acre working farm. We turned into the slightly eroded parking lot on the right and walked uphill toward the entrance  of the building, which appeared to be a house or barn, or a whatever. When you enter the building the maine area is about the size of a basketball court. We walked past a table with containers of tea and lemonade with accompanying cups and ice to see an open porch overlooking the valley and mountains in the distance. I was drawn immediately to this panorama. Claudette and Nathan were drawn immediately to food. Teenage boys are always drawn to food. I was summoned by Nathan telling me, "Grandpa, we have found the restaurant." I obliged by following him through a door to the left of the entrance. I found myself in what appeared to be a store selling "touristy" type merchandise, but a closer look revealed that it was primarily farm products and farm related merchandise. At one end of the store was a counter at which a pretty girl from Seneca, a few miles closer to civilization, took our lunch order. I ordered the herbal burger. I was feeling healthy. Nathan grabbed the table marker, #12, I paid, and we found a big round table to enjoy the mountain view.

The view is awesome. The low Blue Ridge Mountains seem to emerge from the blue sky. As the landscape advances forward the blue becomes green, culminating in the greens of the orchards and vineyards one hundred fifty  feet down the hill from the restaurant.  From our vantage point we could see the state of Georgia to the left and North Carolina to the right while enjoying our burgers in South Carolina.  The burgers were of grass-fed Black Angus beef, grown right on the farm. They, the burgers not the Black angus, were dressed with what I call the "Scarborough Fair" blend: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. A bit of lemon mayonnaise added a little zing.

As we enjoyed our food with large cups of tart lemonade we watched as tourists picked baskets of blackberries and other fruits from the vines and trees. Baskets are rented at the store for this purpose.  The Chattooga Belle Farm is open for lunch  from 11-2 and provides a venue for meetings and wedding ceremonies as well. But for us, there were other waterfalls to find.

Unfortunately the aforementioned teenager developed a stomach ache which required attention. We returned to highway 76 and stopped by the Long Creek "shopping center". There's a gas station at the end of which appears to be a row of buildings circa 1900. Actually, it's a modern structure but adds a lot of charm to the landscape and seems to be perfectly at home there.  I entered through the gas station hoping I would find a convenience store, and I did. On the shelf of medications, of which most seem to be for colds and headaches, I found a package of Alka-Seltzer. One tablet in the package. $1.99. It appeared to be new. I stood in line at the counter.  To my right was a display case with open five gallon cartons of ice cream. The sign said "Hand dipped". A man asked the large woman behind the case for some butter pecan. "Ain't got no butter pecan.  Man's bringin' some tomorrow."

"Strawberry?" he queried.

"Jest choc'let and vanilla," she said. She was a large woman with a pasty white face.  A droplet of sweat hung precariously to her left nostril.

"I'll wait 'til tomorrow."

There was only one fellow in front of me at the counter. The line moved slowly. Each customer wanted to know why Jake, the cashier, was walking with a crutch. By the time he rung up my

purchase, I really didn't care how Jake hurt his foot. I had heard at least three explanations. From the ice cream area I heard, "Cut out all that yakking, Jake.  You gotta a lotta people in line! "The drop of sweat was still hanging on.  I hurried back to the car with my purchase only to face another crisis. You can't just swallow an Alka-Seltzer tablet; you need a glass of water. We had water, and my Rebel ingenuity kicked in.   With my trusty Schrade Old Timer I cut a half liter plastic water bottle in half for a glass and filled it with water and the Alka-Seltzer. Another little bump on the traveler's road smoothed out!

We continue on highway 76 looking for Brasstown Road on the left. We turned on the narrow country road and passed a farm or two before the road abruptly changed at the "End State Maintenance" sign. It was a little rougher but still much better that some of those we traveled in northern New Mexico. We turned onto FS 751. This is a forest Service Road.  I've found that roads built and maintained by the U.S. Forest Service are generally quite good. We followed this unsurfaced road to the end. We could hear the rushing water as we got out of the car. "Hey, there's the trail head!" said Nathan, and he hurried in that direction. We, Claudette and I, followed at a slower rate of travel.We could see the creek through the trees and hear the fast moving water. Off to our left was a forty foot waterfall.  Unlike Chu Ram Falls the water doesn't cascade much. The path is about fifty feet from the creek and muddy.  It has been raining a lot in the mountains. Neither Claudette nor I have on our hiking shoes. In our hurry to see this waterfall we had left our hiking shoes in the car. She had on sandals, and I wore some Rockport slip-ons. We tried to avoid the mud by walking on the grass, weeds, and occasional sweetgum sapling near the path. Thoughts of

Brasstown Falls

poison oak entered my mind.  I once had such a bad encounter with the toxic plant that my eyes swelled almost shut.  The sky was dark, and the heavens were about to open with another deluge of rain. Hurriedly, we did catch up with our grandson.  He had stopped at the top of the fourth waterfall on Brasstown Creek. The creek is beautiful.  Though swollen by recent rains the water was not muddy. Today the creek reflected the overhanging hardwoods  and hemlocks, with flecks of white. There is a low rumbling sound as the water pounds the rocks and continues to reshape the stones as it has done for hundreds of years. I felt a raindrop and yelled, "We gotta get out of here!"  We returned to the Toyota as quickly as we could. By the time we had reached the hard surfaced road the rain was steadily coming down.

The rain shortened our waterfall hunting trip, but we had enjoyed ourselves. There are at least twenty-two waterfalls accessible in Oconee County and more in the surrounding counties. Perhaps, when we return to Long Creek for apples, we can enjoy more waterfalls in the colorful woods of autumn.  But, of course, it won't be quite the same without a grandson.