{"id":22781,"date":"2020-04-24T13:00:19","date_gmt":"2020-04-24T20:00:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/community.nrs.com\/?p=22781"},"modified":"2020-05-05T10:04:00","modified_gmt":"2020-05-05T17:04:00","slug":"creeks-that-switch-direction-paddling-in-south-carolinas-low-country","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/community.nrs.com\/duct-tape\/2020\/04\/24\/creeks-that-switch-direction-paddling-in-south-carolinas-low-country\/","title":{"rendered":"Creeks That Switch Direction: Paddling in South Carolina’s Low Country"},"content":{"rendered":"

The first time I spotted a sign for Awendaw Creek was a few years before we finally paddled there. We were doing what most visitors do in this part of South Carolina\u2019s Low Country, zipping 70 mph down Highway 17 through a box canyon of longleaf pine trees.<\/p>\n

We were passing through Francis Marion National Forest, on our way to check out one of the oldest historic districts in the U.S., founded in 1670 by King Charles II. While the region between Georgetown and Charleston was definitely scenic, with matchstick pines, cypress swamps, and blackwater rivers, we didn\u2019t think about stopping along the way.<\/p>\n

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Awendaw Creek<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

My wife and I had recently relocated to a college town near Myrtle Beach, and I wasn\u2019t exactly thrilled with the move. I grew up out west, and my interests lie mostly in mountainous regions, where one could plummet down rapids in a kayak or bomb down a trail on a bike.<\/p>\n

As far as I knew, no one ever came back from a place called Low Country blurting things like:<\/p>\n

\u201cThe area is rad flat, bro.\u201d
\n\u201cKiller lack of topo lines.\u201d
\n\u201cWould make pancakes brag.\u201d<\/p>\n