Stuck in Table Rock State Park | Foothills Trail, Day Four

My alarm woke me up in a panic.

The sun had not yet risen. I prayed I wouldn’t wake any nearby campers as I fumbled for my phone.

I lay back down in my sleeping bag and thought of all the excuses I could use to go back to sleep.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my headlamp, and started packing.

This was the warmest morning I had experienced on the trail. I was still cold, but I was able to pack my bags much faster than the previous days.

It wasn’t even 7 in the morning when I was ready to leave camp.

A first for me.

I kept repeating in my head, “twenty-seven miles, twenty-seven miles.”

Could I really do this?

Throughout the morning I felt refreshed and invigorated. I flew the first kilometers. Before I knew it, I was passing the Virginia Hawkins camp, which had originally been my goal for the previous night. Mentally, the miles of my day were reset to zero.

20 miles left.

Five miles later, I began the ascent of Mount Sassafras, the highest point in South Carolina.

The climb itself wasn’t that bad. It was a climb for sure, but it wasn’t daunting at all. The problem I had was that I didn’t refill water before starting. Although I had heard locals talk about the drought they had been experiencing, so far I had plenty of access to water along the trail.

This was the first time that water was scarce.

Many of the streams along this stretch of trail were just trickles. I had heard that there was a water reservoir in the observation tower at the top of Mount Sassafras, and I thought my water would last longer. The day was heating up quickly and I was starting to worry about dehydration.

With just under half a bottle of water, I was able to find a stream that wasn’t ideal. After meticulously collecting my water bladder to avoid dirt and leaves that could clog my Sawyer, I was able to filter a liter. I dropped a chlorine tablet and prayed that the rest of the water I had in my second bottle would last the hour it would take for the tablet to disperse.

On the way to the Observation Tower, I took a break.

This was the first time I had sat down by the trail just to rest. I was hot and I could feel myself getting tired. As I relaxed, I forced myself to eat as many snacks as I could in a ten-minute break. I’m not a big break taker, unless I’m filtering water or looking at a waterfall; I don’t like to lose momentum.

I realized it was time to leave when a group of three men walked past me.

They were nice enough, but watching them go reminded me that I had places to be. So I left and not long after I passed two of them.

We all arrived at the Observation Tower at about the same time. One member of their group was ahead of me and the other two were not far behind. Apart from them and another couple, he was alone on the top of Sassafras Mountain.

I expected it to be a more crowded place.

I stood at the highest point in South Carolina, 3,553 feet, and looked toward an endless horizon.

Moments later, I found myself where North Carolina and South Carolina collide.

The views were stunning. I had never seen something so vast in my life. On the one hand, I could have looked at it forever. On the other hand, I don’t like to sit still.

And so, off I went, with only 10 miles to go.

When I reached the next trail access point after the peak, I was filled with gratitude.

Thanks to Taz, I didn’t have to worry about water.

Taz had been almost a myth of a man for me. I never met him, but I had heard of him often. Hikers everywhere knew his name. He is only accessible by phone, but that doesn’t stop him from doing everything he can for hikers on this trail.

By that time, he had found his water supply, and the thought of having clean water ready to drink was the ultimate human kindness to me.

Taz, if you ever see this, thank you!! The love you have for the trail and its hikers is touching.

I don’t know if it was all the protein bars I ate the night before or the excitement of finishing the ride, but I felt unstoppable.

Or at least I did until I was forced to stop.

Everyone, meet Bill.

Bill did NOT want the tour to end that night. However, old Billy was going to have to get used to disappointment.

On the left side of the snake was an overgrown hill with many fallen trees. The other side seemed clearer and less steep. Over the previous few days, I had seen many baby black snakes on the leaves along the trails. They walked away quickly as I passed, not wanting anything to do with me.

I didn’t want to run into any baby rattlesnakes.

I took a wide path to the right, slowly keeping an eye on the snake. Bill immediately let me know he wouldn’t go that way. I think I stood for a good 20 minutes, politely asking the snake to get out of my way.

If anything, he was more insistent that I return.

I’m not going to lie, I was terrified.

The whole time I was communicating with Liam about the snake. As much as I was hoping it had a magic solution for me, satellite communications take a while to send and receive. Also, there really is no magic solution for snakes other than not making them angry.

In the end, I became more impatient than terrified.

I pulled out my trekking pole and began walking up the left side of the trail, weaving through the brush with my pole to look for additional critters.

Time stood still for me, but I returned to the trail and looked toward where I had left the snake.

The snake was gone.

I held my breath and listened to the snake, not sure if it was in front of me, next to me, or literally anywhere else.

Finally, I heard the rustling of leaves and saw my new friend sliding down the path I had just taken to get around it.

I booked it from there.

Six miles left.

Then I met this guy!

At first I thought it was just a snake skin. Turns out he was just a professional playing dead. I pushed it out of the way with my trekking pole and thanked my lucky stars that it was a friendly snake.

I kept moving, hitting the rocks and fallen trees I passed with my pole.

A new fear had been unlocked. As I moved forward, I passed at least three or four camps, most of which were occupied. That was fine with me. He had no desire to camp on what he considered a “snake mountain.”

When I got to Pinnacle Mountain, I was ready to get in the car.

I skipped the summit because it’s not part of the trail, and the notes on Far Out said it would be 300 feet of straight elevation with no view. I don’t regret skipping that because at this point, the trail turned into a straight downhill climb.

Until then, I didn’t really understand why people complained about hiking in the mountains.

I had four miles left and my knees were creaking. I leaned on my trekking pole and prayed to God that I wouldn’t permanently break my knees.

The closer I got, the longer each half mile seemed.

Table Rock State Park had half-mile markers starting at that four-mile point. While most people may enjoy the updates, for me this only made the journey longer. Waiting for each half-mile marker to appear became torture.

When the sun set, I entered the forest again. The fatigue was getting to me and only made me walk faster.

The last few miles to the trailhead were beautiful, but I was too focused on getting to my destination to properly enjoy them. The fact that I was about to finish a day and a half earlier than I had planned overwhelmed me with pride. I was almost dizzy from it, while at the same time I was ready for the ride to be over.

At 8:15 pm on April 23, 2026, I arrived at the trailhead at Table Rock State Park, completing my Foothills hike.

My tracker for the day showed me 27 miles.

But it wasn’t over yet.

The park had me leave my car in the Pinnacle Pavilion parking lot, which I didn’t know was about a mile away from the Foothills Trailhead. I slowly made my way back to my car.

The road took forever. Somehow, being so close to the car made it feel even further away. But when I found it, I immediately felt a sense of relief. The first thing I did was open a Diet Dr. Thunder and devour 6 Jack Links and Venison Beef Sticks in an absurdly short period of time.

I was in heaven.

Unfortunately, the feeling was short-lived.

The entrance to Table Rock State Park was blocked by a gate, which I knew about in advance. The park had given me the gate code when I stood at its scattered site across the street before beginning my walk.

I probably should have expected this, but the code for the main camp and pavilion was different from the code for the dispersed camp. Rummaging through the park’s paperwork, I couldn’t find an after-hours number. There was 911 on the list, but it seemed a little unnecessary for this situation.

Looking around, there was no sign for help, no numbers available, no cell service, even if I could find a phone number.

After a brief, embarrassing crash in front of the door, which I still hope no one heard, I turned around and headed back to the parking lot.

This might come as a surprise, but my biggest concern was whether or not I would get in trouble for sleeping in the park after hours.

I squeezed into the back seat of my Honda Fit and drove around and around while I waited for the sun to come up. My muscles ached, but I blamed the nap in the car more than the walk.

As disappointing and uncomfortable as it was to be stuck in a state park, it was probably best that I took a quick nap before heading out.

I had a thirteen hour drive home.

And with that, my adventure in the Foothills was over.

My tracker showed me 79 miles, plus the last untracked road hike, which, according to my maps, was an extra mile.

80 miles.

80 miles but also 28 miles in a single day? And I wasn’t even limping when I got to my car?

Who am I anymore?

There is nothing comparable to how I felt driving home the next day. I have never felt so proud of myself before in my life.

My first solo backpacking trip and I was officially a Foothills Trail Thru-Hiker.

At the beginning of the trip, I half expected the Foothills Trail to satisfy something in me. Like I could finish it and be at peace with sitting and being still for a while.

Otherwise.

I have never felt more motivated, inspired and determined to challenge myself more. The Foothills chapter may be over, but there’s so much more to see. And who knows, maybe one day I’ll come back!

To be continued..