Treasures of the high country (South Carolina edition)

Living History Farm, Kings Mountain State Park

For years, my national park dreams drifted past the battlefields in the upper corner of South Carolina. Having never heard of the battles, I wrote them off as minor Civil War sites.

Looking closer, I found had pegged them to the wrong war. Pivotal battles of the American Revolution were fought on this terrain. At a time when the war reached a stalemate in the north, skirmishes and sieges across the Carolinas pushed Lord Cornwallis toward his surrender to Washington at Yorktown.

On a simple country road with the first teeth of the Blue Ridge on the northern horizon, I stepped into the Revolution’s southern front. The cynical might describe Cowpens National Battlefield as a field cut by an old country lane. In the battle, patriot forces under Gen. Daniel Morgan defeated the infamous Banastre Tarleton. Patriots hated Tarleton for his brutal tactics, especially a massacre of patriot soldiers attempting to surrender at the Battle of Waxhaws. The park service has begun restoring the cane breaks that covered Cowpens when the battle occurred.

Cowpens memorial

Walking down the old country road that bisects the park, the grassy fields and sporadic copses can take a visitor back to the day of the battle.

Markers note the position of the battle lines, and a separate memorial on the battlefield honors the role of Lt. Col. William Washington, second cousin to the Continental Army’s commanding general. The younger Washington’s soldiers played an important role, with Washington himself pursued the fleeing Tarleton for 16 miles before giving up chase. The cannons and memorials of a Civil War battlefield are not present. An obelisk commemorating the battle at the visitor center, and memorial for William Washington has stood on the battlefield since 1856.

The armies at Cowpens were comprised of some strikingly different battle units. In this one battle, there were continentals, militiamen and cavalry versus royal artillery, Scottish Highlanders and light cavalry (dragoons) plus Tarleton’s infamous green-coated cavalry. Some items have been excavated Cowpens lets the visitor imagine the battle, which started and ended quickly. The patriots went from cooking breakfast when word came of Tarleton’s approach to routing his forces in just an hour.

Cowpens served as an appetizer for the battle site to come. Just 30 miles away, a battle that wielded bigger influence on American Independence occurred three months before Cowpens. Across the North Carolina border, the road rises and quickly returns to South Carolina atop a wooded plateau which once hosted a tide-turning Revolution War battle, now preserved in Kings Mountain National Military Park. This mountaintop is just a short rise above the surrounding terrain but full of forests and ravines. It was not named for an English king but an early colonial resident.

What struck me the most was who fought at Kings Mountain. Major Patrick Ferguson, one of the Royal army’s brightest soldiers, was the only British soldier at the battle. This was a battle of patriots and loyalists. By this time, British actions had forced Scots-Irish colonists to end their neutrality to join the patriot cause. If sentiment along the coasts skewed heavily toward independent, opinions were more mixed among colonists further inland, especially those on the Appalachian frontier.

As for Ferguson, this intriguing character deserves more exposure in Revolutionary lore. Considered one of the best soldiers in the British army, he invented a fast-firing rifle that outshone the muskets of his day. This expert marksman once had the chance to change history. He had General George Washington in his crosshairs and didn’t take the shot because Washington had his back to Ferguson and was not engaged in battle.

The what-if possibilities from Ferguson’s actions are immeasurable. However, Ferguson had the misfortune to wear a red-and-white checked shirt at Kings Mountain, a detail which one of his fleeing mistresses reported to the patriots. Mortally wounded by multiple bullets, he is buried in the park. While covered in dense trees today, the mountain had scant cover in 1780 and was chosen by Ferguson as the site of battle.

Kings Mountain battle mockup

Unfortunately for him, patriot snipers use the foliage below to creep up and gradually overtake his forces. Along with path looping through the battlefield, past monuments and Ferguson’s grave, the park has a top-notch museum devoted to the battle, artifacts from the battle and era (including a Ferguson rifle) and a film narrated by Ken Burns favorite Peter Coyote. Follow the road shortly past the visitor center and the national park becomes Kings Mountain State Park, where I decided to camp for the night.

Across the border in North Carolina, the trails continue into Crowders Mountain State Park. It’s the same terrain, just as the bottom of the mountain. I checked in and bought two bundles of wood from the trading post. This man at the counter didn’t have a South Carolina accent and remarked “You’re a long way from home” when eyeing my Tennessee license. His demeanor gave me no doubt he would lock the door at 5 on the nose. The park rangers locked the gates at the campground entrance at 9 p.m., and I had no intention of going anywhere till morning. I just wanted to sit in the woods with a fire crackling.

Discovering my six-person tent was too much for me solo, I waved down a campground host. They supported the tent poles while I secured them. They spent six months of the year as campground hosts, the other six at their home 10 minutes away. Not a bad gig for retirees. I had not done any solo camping in six or more years. There was not much but solitude, reading, writing and cooking hot dogs over a campfire that needed three fire-starters to reach a steady burn. I had time to journal about the woods, sit around the trading post once it closed and walk the mostly empty campground. During summer, I imagine sites were rarely empty.

Along with trails tying into the national park and Crowders Mountain, Kings Mountain State Park also features a living history farm. A replica of the farms that would have dotted his country in the 19th century, the farm is expansive. A corn crib, grazing horses and random farm buildings clung to the hillside. A coop protected roosters and hens from predators, including the barn cats that loitered elsewhere while I walked the farm grounds. I didn’t spend nearly enough time there, which was true of the neighboring parks. The state park trails link to the national military park trails. By the time I had set up and explored the farm, there wasn’t enough time for a long hike.

At the closed trading post, the lamp of an old gas pump that once served state park visitors glowed into day’s end. On the porch stood a bear carved from a tree trunk. The porch lamp would not be the lone light for long, as the unmistakable glow of a nearly full moon punched through the pines and illuminated the entire campground. Even in the tent, moonlight brightened the park until the pre-dawn hours.


Of the 10 primitive camping sites, only 2 others were occupied. One had been empty since I arrived, a plume of smoke from the dying coals in the fire pit the only sign of life. A couple milled around the other, making frequent suspicious trips to their car. I ignored them. I couldn’t ignore the other party’s loud arrival around 1 a.m. Every time the male of the group popped out of the woods to scare the women, I solidified my plans to break camp early the next morning.

A few more hours of thin sleep followed, the moonlight illuminating the campground almost to dawn. The fire’s coals extinguished in powdery ash. With my sleeping bag rated to 20 degrees, I could curl and maximize body heat, but it was not the same. Plus, I left the pump for the air mattress at home. The ground was not too hard thanks to the flat tent pad. Eventually I shivered and added more layers.

At first light, I packed, showered and headed into Kings Mountain, N.C., to find a highway west. Windows down, I let the fresh air chill me for the next 100 miles  on a backroad to the flat country. To the east loomed Kings Pinnacle and Crowders Mountain, prominent fixtures rising above the plain. I wasn’t in the mountains for long, but enjoyed every peak with budding trees. Delayed spring had reached the higher elevations. The road left more time for thought, but I instead focused on the beauty ahead.

The border between the Carolinas was no accident, as the mountains rise higher than most places in the Southeast. Battles won near these peaks pushed the war toward its conclusion. I expect the roads through those mountains would someday usher me back to dig around unexplored places.

Living History Farm