I knew South Carolina had a national park tucked within its borders, but I had completely forgotten about it until I saw the sign: Congaree National Park, 17 Miles. I figured I had time for one more. 

Congaree is an expansive stretch of bottomland hardwood forest; like the forests of the Mississippi Delta, these trees are used to occasional flooding. Unlike the Delta, this swamp has not been drained. A whiteboard at the visitor center shows the current water levels. The main trail around the park is a boardwalk, ranging anywhere from six inches to six feet above ground level. I wasn’t wearing my hiking boots, so I avoided the squelchy danger of the dirt trails and stuck to the boardwalk.

Congaree did not have the sheer scenic power of the Western national parks, but in terms of plant life, it was the most astonishing place I’ve ever seen. I consistently found myself laughing in surprise at the newest reality-bending sight in front of me. The trees seemed to stretch endlessly downward into the pools of water; it was difficult to tell where the reflection ended and where the tree began. Tiny stumps jutted out of the ground, turned into miniature Christmas trees by mosses. The word “green” was useless in Congaree—everything was green, and yet everything was its own distinct, definite color. When another color did appear, like a purple flower growing on a decomposing log, I was shocked, and my eyes had to refocus as if they had been blinded by a beam of light.

I could have spent the rest of the day in Congaree, but I had to get to Chapel Hill by the evening. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, / But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep, / And miles to go before I sleep. Robert Frost taught at my high school for a couple of years, and by all accounts, he was an atrocious teacher. I sped through the Carolinas, South turning to North as the sun set. Two hundred miles later, coffee cups empty and snacks gone, I pulled into the driveway of the rental house and, for the first time in three months, walked in to my family.