Diving deep: The hidden history beneath our Upstate lakes

There are three sun-dappled jewels in the Upstate that draw tens of thousands of visitors every year: lakes Hartwell, Keowee and Jocassee.

But, while people enjoy boating, fishing and other leisure activities on the surface, resting in the depths is a hidden world of lost history ranging from phantom structures and largely-unexplored Cherokee settlements to at least one submerged cemetery.

Frozen in place

According to Pickens County historian and naturalist Dennis Chastain (also a Greenville Journal columnist), the river valleys that became three of South Carolina’s most beloved lakes were home to generations of families going back 300 years and of several Native American settlements that date back even further.

He says the water that so many enjoy now has forever covered that history and effectively has frozen it in time.

“It is kind of remarkable,” Chastain says. “It’s like Vesuvius — everything was frozen in place.”

Starting in the early 1960s with the construction of Lake Hartwell followed by lakes Keowee and Jocassee completed in the early 1970s, the families in those remote, rural communities were uprooted and displaced to make way for hydroelectric projects designed to meet the growing demands for power across the Southeast.

Chastain says while people are right to appreciate the natural beauty of the lakes and the abundant, clean power they help generate, they should also remember it came at a price.

“There’s a ton of artifacts down there,” he says. “It’s important to remember and recognize that people lived there … I tell people this is the history you never learned in high school.”

Besides the homes and farms, bridges and cemeteries buried under the lakes, plants and animals were displaced. Chastain says the creation of lakes Jocassee and Keowee erased roughly 60% of the habitat of the rare Oconee Bells, shortia galicifolia, that exist only in this portion of the southern Appalachians.

“[The submerged area] was just a treasure trove of natural and cultural resources,” he says. “Now all of that and the archaeological record is just gone.”

Scale model of Fort Prince George. Photo provided

Racing the flood

Before the lakes came, some research and archeology was completed in the area. As the Lake Hartwell project took shape in the late ’50s, archeologists from the University of Georgia excavated a few Cherokee sites and recovered thousands of artifacts.

But perhaps the most historically significant site was a colonial-era British fort built on the Keowee River in the 1750s to help secure an alliance with the Cherokee. Fort Prince George was built across the river from a Cherokee village, and even though it was only manned for a few years, Chastain says the alliance it helped secure probably kept the French from gaining control of vast tracts of colonial America.

Portion of the map of Williamson’s March in 1776 against the Cherokee that wrested control of all remaining native lands in northwestern South Carolina.

The remains of the fort now rest more than 150 feet beneath Lake Keowee near Mile Creek County Park. A team from the University of South Carolina led by Marshall Williams excavated the site as Keowee was being built.

Daniel James, preparator for the Pickens County Museum for Art and History where some of the artifacts from the fort are now housed, says the excavations at the fort were done under intense time pressure.

He adds that accounts of the dig from Williams’ son indicate the project was still underway when water began to rise and covered the site.

Williams built a scale model of Fort Prince George using materials from the site, and that model is on display at the museum.

Cherokee Country during Colonial Times with current day Cherokee Indian Reservation.

Diving the depths

While the history buried beneath the lakes is now inaccessible to traditional archeology, much of it can still be explored by people who have the skill and equipment to dive that deep.

Jocassee Dive Shop owner and expert scuba instructor Bill Routh has been exploring the underwater worlds of Keowee, Jocassee and Hartwell for more than 30 years, making several important discoveries along the way.

By talking to family members and area residents who lived in the valleys before the lakes were filled, Routh zeroed in on the locations of the Jocassee Camp for girls, the nearby Whitewater River bridge and, in 2004, the intact structure of the Attakulla Lodge.

Reaching the top of the lodge, a 270-foot dive, is something few divers can manage, Routh says.

That’s because it’s shrouded in complete darkness in water that averages about 46 degrees and, because of the pressure, leaves only about 15 minutes for exploration before divers must spend two hours resurfacing, pausing every 10 feet to decompress.

“You have to be very, very careful,” Routh says. “It can be a challenge just going around the outside [of the lodge]. The sheer depth is a challenge.”

As a result, it took several years for Routh and other divers to realize the building had been flipped on its side by the force of the waters as the lake flooded.

Not far away from the lodge and camp at about 130 feet lay the remains of the Mount Carmel Baptist Church Cemetery. While the church was moved during construction of Jocassee and families were given the option of moving the remains of their loved ones from the cemetery, many chose to leave family members’ graves undisturbed.

Routh says that process was captured on film during the making of the 1972 movie “Deliverance,” much of which was shot on location during the lake’s construction. Because the cemetery is the final resting place of people who called the area home, Routh says dives on the cemetery are always respectful.

“We give a different perspective on perpetual care,” Routh says. “We keep the dust off the headstones … We always treat it with reverence.”

Like Chastain, Routh says it is important for people to remember the people who were there before and who sacrificed their history to the waters.

“People who enjoy those lakes need to know people sacrificed their heritage for that,” Routh says. “You have to have compassion for those individuals.”