Secrets of the Upper Ogeechee--Part I
(This article appeared in the Fall 2008 edition of Splash magazine.
The photographs in Part I are by Jim Abbot and are used with permission.)
To the casual motorist cruising at seventy-plus up or down Interstate 95, the Ogeechee River crossing is just another stunning view to be ignored in favor of avoiding certain death under the treads of the eighteen-wheelers that ply this modern river of commerce. But it hasn’t always been this way. The early history of Georgia is written in terms of rivers, the natural kind that defined boundaries and settlement patterns for more than a century after the founding of the colony in the early 1700s. To understand Georgia, you must understand her rivers. For me—and many others—there is no stream as unique as the Ogeechee. But first, a bit of background….
Geologically, Georgia is divided into three main regions. The last hills of the ancient weathered Appalachian and Blue Ridge mountain ranges cover the north and northwestern part of the state. Below them are the foothills of the Piedmont whose granite outcroppings and rolling hills of red clay are home for the majority of the state’s population. More than half of Georgia’s geographic area lies between the Piedmont and the sea, known as the Coastal Plain. Here the land is relatively flat, and the terrain covered by a variety of sedimentary soils.
Millions of years ago, the boundary between the Piedmont and Coastal Plain was a seacoast. With time the mighty forces that shape the continents have shifted the ocean’s landfall to the east, which we now know as the Atlantic Coast. But the geologic vestiges of this ancient demarcation line remain and are known as the Fall Line. Here, water flowing from the mountains toward the sea leaves the rocky soils of the Piedmont for the soft and easily erodible earth of the Coastal Plain.
Look at a map of Georgia, or better a satellite image displaying the course of major rivers. To the north of the Fall Line the rivers follow a relatively straight and narrow path, like inverted lines of lightening coalescing in ever larger streams on their journey seaward. Once they reach the geologic boundary of the Fall Line, there is a sudden change. Focal river beds give way to vast swamps and lowlands. The arrow-like paths of the rivers’ flow begin to resemble the coils of a snake, with sharp bends and hairpin turns lined with gleaming white sandbars reformed from archaic beach sand.
The boundary of the Fall Line also became a political and social one. In America’s early days, the main routes of commerce and settlement followed the rivers. The wide lazy streams below the Fall Line were perfect for poleboat, barge and later steamboat traffic. The name “Fall Line” comes from the fact that at this geologic transition site most streams are blocked by a rocky series of shoals or low waterfalls, making further boat traffic inland difficult or impossible.
Today, we rarely think about why cities are where they are geographically. If you ask the average resident of Augusta, Macon, Milledgeville or Columbus why their founders chose that particular site, you’ll get a variety of answers. The fact is, though, each of these cities sprang up exactly on the geologic Fall Line because they were the uppermost stopping point for unimpeded boat traffic on the rivers they border. (Parenthetically, the Fall Line extends up the east coast of the United States, and helped determine the location of other cities, including Columbia, South Carolina, Washington, DC, Baltimore, Maryland, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.)
A traveler headed south along Georgia’s coast will cross five major rivers: The Savannah, defining the border with South Carolina, the Ogeechee, the Altamaha (formed by the fusion of the Oconee and Ocmulgee), the Satilla, and the St. Marys marking the coastal border with Florida. Each of these rivers drains a specific area, referred to by the geologists as a river basin. The first three arise in the upper Piedmont, fed from streams and springs that ultimately might be traced to the Appalachian foothills. The two latter rivers are smaller and drain more limited areas in south Georgia and north Florida.
I was born, grew up and still live in Washington County, a relatively rural area whose boundaries are formed in part by the Oconee River to the west and the Ogeechee River to the east. The Fall Line roughly tracks the northern border of the county. As a child, and even now as an adult who enjoys outdoor pursuits, the rivers and the lands that border them have become a part of my world. My mother’s ancestors settled on and near the Ogeechee more than 200 years ago. The land is still owned by my cousins. My father, who was an ardent conservationist, spent his retirement years relaxing at his farm which straddles the Ogeechee next to my cousins’ land.
As a teenager I spent many nights camped on the Ogeechee, waking up every hour or so the check our hooks for the massive catfish that swim along the river’s muddy bottom. The family’s several canoes still bear bangs and dents from hours or days-long float trips down the river. I was taught to find river mussels the way the Indians did, by walking barefoot on the sandbars in shallow water and feeling with my toes. To me, the most fascinating part—or perhaps simply the part of the river that I know best—is the upper Ogeechee, that part near and above the Fall Line. I’ll have more to say about that in the second part of this article. First, though, let me talk a bit about the river itself, and touch on some of the history of the lower Ogeechee nearer the coast.
The Ogeechee arises in the lower Piedmont and crosses the Fall Line at the village of Shoals where the borders of Hancock, Glascock and Warren Counties intersect. It is one of Georgia’s few remaining free-flowing streams with the only dam being a small one used to power the old grist mill near Mayfield. The upper river is more of a large creek, especially in times of drought, but with adequate rainfall it is possible to travel by canoe from Shoals to Ossabaw Sound south of Savannah. It is unique in that it is a “blackwater river,” its color derived from decaying vegetation and less influenced by silt and other contaminants from groundwater runoff. Like other rivers that follow a course from the Piedmont to the sea, it traces a rocky narrow streambed to the north, widening to a slow-moving serpentine course below Fenn’s Bridge on the Fall Line Freeway between Macon and Augusta.
The river and its shores are home to a wide variety of plant and animal life, including some unique and endangered species. Unlike Georgia’s other Atlantic coastal rivers, the omnivorous flathead catfish has not been established in the Ogeechee, allowing wonderful redbreast fishing in the spring and summer. I often see alligators and river otters, and on more than one occasion have spotted bears and panthers (who seemed as surprised as I was at the chance meetings). During the spring and fall migrations, the treetops are full of a wide and changing variety of birds. In the summer months bright yellow prothonotary warblers flit between treetops in the lowland swamps. Nearer the coast, dedicated amateur ornithologists can often spot bald eagles and American wood storks. 
Some stretches of the Ogeechee’s shores have been damaged by agriculture and poor logging practices, but much of the river remains wild and relatively inaccessible, especially below the Fall Line. Huge cypress trees are common, perhaps left by thoughtful landowners or simply protected from logging by their remote location. In the spring, the banks come alive with the colorful wild azalea. In the fall, tupelo leaves gleam bright red in the afternoon sunlight.
The attractions of the river are not limited to its natural beauty. Every student who graduated from high school in Georgia knows that the colony was founded in 1733 by James Oglethorpe with the settlement of Savannah, nearly twenty miles inland on the river of that name. Few people realize, however, that a bit more than two decades later, efforts were made to transfer the capital to a new city named Hardwicke, on the Ogeechee some fourteen miles inland near the modern town of Richmond Hill. The idea eventually died—probably for good reason—but nearby Fort McAllister played an important part in the coastal defenses of Georgia during the War Between the States. Louisville, Georgia’s third capital with its tree-shaded streets and magnificent old homes is a hidden treasure on the river’s north bank in Jefferson County.
Although the Ogeechee may have been a witness to many important events in Georgia’s history, to me and those who know the river, our fondest memories are not those etched in print or carved on stone monuments, but rather quiet times spent with family and friends around a folding picnic table eating cold fried chicken and waiting for the fish to bite.
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