Chasing Waterfalls

It was with grim determination that I set out from the hotel to find the waterfall. I had forgotten my map in my rush out of the room - we finished lunch later than I had planned, and so I threw on jeans and a casual shirt, tied my shoes, and headed out the door. All I took with me? A camera with dying batteries, a couple tissues (my nose runs in the cold) and lip gloss. No map - I'd left it on my bed and decided I certainly wouldn't need it since I was in a hurry anyway.

I returned - triumphant but tired - two hours later.

Apart from the time that passed between 1 and 3PM, today looked much like yesterday. I skipped breakfast to sleep a bit later. I was disturbed by the tapping that I hear even now - I finally turned the TV on at a low volume to drown it out - and didn't sleep that well. I enjoyed the conference, though there were some talks that could have been shorter. I decided to make half a sandwich today because I didn't finish the whole one yesterday at lunch - that's one difference. And I did change clothes completely before setting off on my hike. Oh, and I got lost while wandering around.

It turns out that a map would have been helpful. When planning a 3 mile hike, it's not overly efficient to add another couple miles to your route by missing the first major turn. I tried to remember enough of the map to decide if there was some alternate route, but finally turned around, shaking my camera to convince it to find the energy to take more pictures, and headed up the blacktopped road that I had earlier decided must be a driveway. It wasn't.

But the weather was cool and cloudy - a good day for walking - so I continued pretty happily once I found the right path. And I decided that getting lost had made me late - why else would everyone I saw be heading the opposite direction?

I finally reached a turn that lead to a gravel road from the pleasantly paved one I had been using. Then I saw two friendly Europeans and smiled easily at them while offering a hello.

"Are you going to the waterfall?" Asked the beautiful man.

"I am! Did you see it?" I asked, glancing between him and his beautiful companion.

"No - we turned around." He said as she shook her head. "I have to be back soon, so we saw the stream, but we didn't take the right path to get to the waterfall."

"Where do you think the right path is?" I asked, freely admitting to myself that I wasn't likely to get there on my own.

"We took the first turn, but you can't get there from that one. The bridge is out. So keep going straight - you go around the no trespassing fence, then curve around the gravel road, then follow the dirt path. Then ignore the first route to the left - that goes to the stream - and keep going toward the shooting. The map says there's another path that leads to the waterfall, but we didn't make it that far." Then he held out his map. "We don't need this anymore - we'll find our way back without it."

So I thanked him, took his map gratefully, and paused only briefly to read the "No Trespassing. All violaters will be prosectued!" sign before skirting around the edge of the gate and continuing down the gravel road. I also ignored about 10 bright yellow signs. They said "Do Not Enter! Shooting Range." But I shrugged philosophically, consulted my map, and headed further down the path. I was pleased when the gravel turned to dirt, and started looking for the path to the stream. Before I reached it, I watched a line of horses and riders climb the hill to my left, and I paused to let them continue their ride. There were 6 horses, and 4 of them were deep brown. The other 2 were not brown, though I don't recall their colors. But the riders offered smiles, so I decided the "Keep out!" signs must not apply to me. I was similarly encouraged when a man drove past on a ATV. If nobody told me to leave, it must be OK to stay.

So, admist the noise of increasingly heavy gunfire, I pushed forward, stopping several times to consult the map and peer carefully into the woods, wondering if I had missed the second path and would soon end up in the center of the shooting range. But when the shooting paused momentarily, I could hear water from the stream. Looking down at my map, I read the directions and noticed the "You'll be able to hear the falls." note for my current location. So I narrowed my eyes, checked my surroundings for recreational shooters, and continued around the curve.

It was with no small amount of excitement that I came across a small path - just wide enough for one person - covered in pine needles and leaves. It was incredibly steep and I carefully picked my way down toward the water I could hear, wanting desperately to see it. After my initial decent, I could make out the top of the waterfall, and could hear the water as it rushed over the edge, but my map said there was a bridge a bit further. If I could cross it, I'd be able to reach the level ground on the other side, then take a picture of the waterfall! So I painstakingly made my way around low limbs, over fallen trees and stepped over some of the large rocks that were loose. I smiled when I saw the bridge, ignoring the noise from the stupid guns that were above and all around one edge of my little valley to focus on the water that flowed easily under the sturdy bridge. I quickly reached the other side.

Backtracking, I walked easily now that I was away from the steep incline toward the stream. I had to duck under a large fallen limb, climb down some rocks near the waterfall, then I scampered quickly so I could turn and behold the my destination. I sighed for a mere moment before taking out my camera.

It would turn on, but refused to capture the photo. I took out the batteries and had them trade places. I jiggled and cajoled and demanded. I waited a moment. Traded battery positions again. Increasingly upset - I'd made it all this way and wanted a photo! - I struggled for several minutes before accepting that the camera wasn't going to cooperate. So I sighed and stood there - trying to remember. There were three major ledges that the water tumbled over - probably 6 feet high all together. There was a thin rope - white with a thin green stripe that circled it like a candy cane - hanging off the left above the rocks. I wondered what it might be used for. There was also a piece of pink plastic tied around one of the trees on the other side of the stream to the right. I was going to frame the picture to avoid those 2 features. I admired the water - how it was clear in some places, then frothed white in others. There wasn't much color down here - no bright yellows or vivid reds. Just soft browns - the dirt, pine needles and fallen leaves, deep greens in the shaded valley on a cloudy day, and gentle grays of the rocks on the ground. It was soothing, I decided, and spent a few minutes - just looking and listening and resting - before heading back the way I'd come.

Once I climbed out of the waterfall valley, it was an easy hike. Just moderate hills to climb, then gentle grades to descend. It was mostly a flat walk back to the hotel - though it did take some time - and I moved quickly while I considered myself and this obsession I have with recording everything. Making moments matter. Trying to take notes and write posts and frame pictures so that this day is somehow important. Worthwhile.

Some moments aren't, I finally decided. I saw a waterfall today. It doesn't - and shouldn't - matter to anyone but me. I don't need the picture to prove anything. I was there and enjoyed the experience (after the camera battle, of course. That part was freaking annoying!). I don't need to learn the meaning of research from this meeting - I'm picking up little pieces of information that may someday be useful. Then again, they may not. I'm talking to people who may eventually be valuable contacts. Or I'll forget I ever met them. I'm writing things down - notes and references and topics to think about later. I'll only use some of those pages - probably very few. And that's OK. It doesn't have to be profound and breathtaking. It just has to be. I have trouble with that, but sometimes, I really do think it just has to be.

So - for this moment - I've released the grasping desperation to make everything mean something - signify some profound personal growth or create some story behind every experience. I'm sure it will return - I'm intense like that - but it was a good lesson for today. So good, in fact, that I had to write it down.

So I'd remember.

Because it seemed pretty important.

Bright side? At least I can laugh at myself. And I did coax the camera into downloading some pretty nice pictures I took before I reached the other side of the waterfall. I had forgotten I'd taken one before I climbed all the way down the hill. So it turns out I can share a glimpse of the waterfall after all.