IF YOU GO
Broxton Rocks
The one-mile trail to the falls is open to the public June-August. The Rocks are accessible only for scheduled events and guided tours offered by The Nature Conservancy in the spring and fall. The next tours are Oct. 10, 17 and 24.
Hikers must be in good physical shape, and shoes with good tread are recommended. The Broxton Rocks are not ADA-accessible and there are no facilities. Bring sunscreen, insect repellant and water.
Broxton Rocks is about 190 miles south of Atlanta off U.S. 441 east of Fitzgerald. For directions, information and tour schedules, go to www.nature.org, call 404-873-6946 or email tncgeorgia@tnc.org.
Driving down Old River Road near Broxton on a brilliant spring day, our caravan passes rolling farmlands, lone chimneys of homes long since burned or fallen down, and fields of cattle and horses.
Soon the road hopscotches from asphalt to gravel before the dozen or so vehicles snakes off onto a dusty red clay road. Here plump palmettos curiously juxtapose against the tallest of pines, and the tangled vines of wild muscadines, blackberry and gallberries form a natural fortress that separates woods from road.
Almost two dozen of us, a mishmash of nature aficionados from places like Hazlehurst, Cordele and Fitzgerald in Georgia and Orlando and High Springs in Florida, are here on a back road in Coffee County about to trounce off into the woods in search of The Nature Conservancy’s Broxton Rocks. Three TNC-trained guides, Caleb Barrett and father and son Stanley and Tyler Lott, all of nearby Douglas, accompany us on our sojourn.
The best way to describe the Broxton Rocks — locals call it simply the Rocks — is like this: The land below Macon and the fall line (the former shoreline of a prehistoric ocean) is generally flat and unrelenting until it reaches the coast. That is, except for the Rocks, quite the anomaly with its series of caves, outcroppings, cliffs and stair-step waterfalls that seem more suited to the Blue Ridge than the piney woods of South Georgia.
In ancient times the Rocks were nudged from beneath the earth’s surface by shifting tectonic plates and now rests on a portion of the Altamaha Grit, a layer of subsurface sandstone crisscrossing 15,000 square miles of coastal plains.
The Rocks meander for about four miles, formed from what probably began eons ago as a single trickle from Rocky Creek, a tributary of the Ocmulgee River. Thousands of years of natural erosion from wind, rain, heat, humidity and occasional snowstorms complement the shifting process and produce a rugged, almost surreal landscape that just doesn’t fit in with the South Georgia topography.
One of its myriad highlights is a tumbling waterfall, the highest south of Macon and perhaps the only one anywhere below the Piedmont Plateau. In rainy seasons, thousands of gallons of water pass over the rocks every minute, its sound raw yet tranquil, and continuously polish the rocks until they glint like diamonds in the sun.
The preserve is about 1,650 acres, but it is also a part of the larger Broxton Rocks Conservation Area, which totals about 13,000 acres.
But it hasn’t always been protected.
“It was the place to be 30, 40, 50 years ago,” says Caleb. “For some, it still is.”
Before TNC took control, it was simply a place that transported those of us who grew up nearby from the flat countryside of South Georgia to the mountains without having to drive for hours on end.
While it was our secret treasure, it was also horrifically abused as party central for teenagers who came here to drink, make out and generally raise all sorts of Cain. Left behind were tons of beer bottles, debris and furniture and the near ruination of a fragile ecosystem.
Originally the happy hunting grounds for the Cherokee and Creek, the now quiet sanctuary was in serious danger of being destroyed.
In the late 1980s, Frankie Snow, a noted naturalist from Douglas and longtime professor at South Georgia State College, sought to protect the site from further human disturbance. With his encouragement, TNC bought the first tract of several hundred acres in 1992, and from that point forward the Rocks, the playground of teenagers gone wild, became Broxton Rocks, the playground of nature reverting to wild.
One recent spring day our group walks the mile-long approach trail to the falls and caves. Along the way, our guides show us fern species such as a bracken, cinnamon and royal.
As they talk, the coolest of spring breezes whisper through the pines. The wind tames the heat as we walk farther along the trail where the longleaf pine is slowly being reintroduced into the ecosystem after it was, to quote American botanist B.W. Wells, “rooted out by hogs, mutilated by turpentining, cut down in lumbering or burned up through negligence.”
Except for the faintest rumble of the waterfalls and the quiet words of our guides, it is mostly silent here in this tiny sliver of Southern wild.
We watch for rare species, including the iridescent indigo snake and slow-as-sorghum gopher tortoise. On this day, though, the most famous residents of the preserve are nowhere to be found, just their burrows.
But that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding close by.
“So far this year we’ve seen 14 species of snakes and have counted 130,” states Tyler. “We’ve seen three of the six that are venomous, the pygmy rattler, the cottonmouth and the coral snake.”
Finally we reach the plateau over the falls. It doesn’t seem real to stumble upon such mountain-like beauty among the pines, but still it is mesmerizing and peaceful.
Watching our step lest a diamondback is lurking nearby, we climb farther down a path by the falls and underneath the rock outcroppings. The temperature drops probably 10, then 15 degrees from the high 80s at the waterfall.
As we tramp farther down the path in the coolness, we marvel at veins of lichen the color of bubble gum, copper and ebony. More than 525 species of plants grow here, including 15 varieties of orchid. Tyler points to a green fly orchid growing on the rock-face, explaining that it usually grows on trees but the sandstone is moist and shady, providing the ideal environment for growth.
Among other plants is a succulent herb known as grit portulaca with fuchsia-colored flowers. Found in only three Georgia counties, it originates from Cuba and the guess is its seed probably hitched a ride on a tropical storm dredged from the tropics.
We finally emerge from the cave paths back into woods strung with wild azaleas, Carolina jasmine, goldenrod and foxglove where the sun is bright.
For fans of unusual nature, it’s worth sidestepping a few snakes and briars to come here.
“Every animal and plant has a role in an ecosystem,” Tyler says of this uncommon place now preserved for future generations. “It’s good to have things that don’t go extinct.”
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