The wife and I stumbled upon a Shriner Parade early on Saturday morning. In case you didn’t know, the Shriners are officially called the Ancient Arabic Order of the Nobles of the Mystic Shrine. They’re an offshoot of the Freemasons and sponsor a 50-bed pediatric orthopaedic hospital here in Greenville. I don’t know why they didn’t hold the parade around lunchtime when downtown is bustling, but they got lucky with a surprisingly cool breeze. I was hoping for more fezzes and tiny cars, but it was fun nonetheless.

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I already posted some pictures of Greenville after a recent ice storm, but I thought I’d share these as well.

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Stumphouse Tunnel has an interesting story:

The tunnel was first proposed in 1835 by residents of Charleston, South Carolina as a new and shorter route for the Blue Ridge Railroad between Charleston and the Ohio river valley area which until then was only accessible by bypassing the mountains entirely to the South and then traveling up north through Georgia and middle Tennessee. In 1852, 13 miles of tunnel were proposed to cross the Blue Ridge Mountains through South Carolina, North Carolina, and into Tennessee. Construction on the railway was begun in the late 1850s and was successful through most of South Carolina until hitting the mountains around Wallhalla in Oconee County. There Stumphouse tunnel along with three other tunnels was to be built.

Construction on Stumphouse tunnel began in 1856 when the George Collyer Company of London brought many Irish workers into the area for this project. Many of the workers lived in housing on top of Stumphouse mountain called Tunnel Hill. By 1859, the State of South Carolina had spent over a million dollars on the tunnel and refused to spend any more on the project, therefore the tunnel work was abandoned.

The tunnel is pretty imposing, especially when you consider that it was excavated largely by hand:

There are all kinds of ghost stories associated with the tunnel. Most of them are contrived at best, but that didn’t stop me from reciting them all to my wife before we entered the crypt-like cavern. She didn’t seem to bite on the ghost stories, but she really got scared when I casually noted that there could very well be a wounded animal in there, frightened, and ready to lash out at any threat. She grabbed the flashlight with one hand and my arm with the other. We entered at our own risk:

After you get about 1600 feet in, the remaining tunnel is blocked by an old, rusted gate. Standing alone in the dank darkness, I was reminded of Poe’s Cask of Amontillado. This is the view from the inside:

There are supposed to be graves on the mountain above the tunnel, but we hiked all over the place and didn’t see any marker stones. After hiking back down, we wandered across the park to Issaqueena Falls. Here’s the story behind the name:

[The] falls were apparently named after an Indian girl who discovered her tribe planned to attack a nearby community of white settlers.

She quickly dashed away on her horse to warn the settlers of their peril. During her ride, she named the places she passed – such as Mile Creek, Six Mile, Twelve Mile, and Eighteen Mile – until she finally reached the threatened settlement now known as Ninety Six.

Learning of her betrayal, Issaqueena’s tribe chased her to the falls, where the young maiden pretended jump but hid behind the wall of water instead. Assuming she was dead, the tribe called off its search and Issaqueena was able to make her escape.

This is one of the few waterfalls we’ve visited where you see the falls from above. You hear the roaring water as you approach and there’s a viewing area off to the side where you can take in the falls:

If you look at the picture above, you can see the hidden ledge just below the top where the water falls straight down. We wanted to hike down to it, but it was too muddy. We’ll get a picture behind the water wall next time we’re in the area.

Post Script: Lunch in Walhalla

On the way back home, we stopped in Walhalla for lunch. We’d heard good things about The Steak House Cafeteria, so we gave it a try. We each loaded our trays with fried chicken, mac & cheese, rice & gravy, iced tea, and my wife got a dessert. Everything looked good, but I couldn’t help but wonder how long the food had been sitting in steam trays. When it was time to pay, I was stunned by the check-out lady’s rudeness. She could give the Soup Nazi a run for his money. There was no one else in line except for the two of us, but she acted as though the queue was winding out the door and we were the wrench in the cogs. It’s almost as if her job was to spot the out-of-towners and harangue them until they retreat outside the city limits. When she rang us up, the total came to more than twenty dollars. 20+ dollars. A third of the food order was rice!

Although the price was shocking, we were even more surprised by the taste of the food. The rice was mushy and the gravy was bland. How do you screw up rice and gravy? The mac and cheese was average, with overcooked noodles and not enough salt. The chicken was okay, but not ‘$20 good’ if that makes sense. My wife ate two bites of her oreo-crusted dessert and put her fork on the table. I asked if she wanted to take the rest home and she responded with a terse “no.” I honestly think that was a first. I should mention that I actually liked the unsweetened tea, but then again, I like really weak tea. The man who attended to the dining room was polite, but adequate tray removal service doesn’t make up for lousy food.

We’ve driven by The Steak House Cafeteria on Sundays and it’s always packed. I don’t get it? Either toxic drinking water has dulled the townsfolk’s taste buds or the restaurant had a really bad day. Either way, the only way I’ll ever step foot in that place again is if I’ve sinned and am in need of severe penance.

The hike to the falls is under 1.5 miles, but it takes about 40 minutes because the path constantly changes form a wide, canopied pathway to a a narrow, rocky ridge line.

It took us a little longer because several sections of the trail were covered in thick ice. The hike takes you alongside and eventually across Falls Creek, which I’m sad to say is more robust than downtown Greenville’s Reedy River:

The falls are about a hundred feet high and break in stages:

Because of the near-constant shade and the cool, moist breeze coming off the water, this would be a perfect hike for the dog days of summer when the smothering heat and humidity keep most people indoors.