Water Falling

Shortly after we moved to FairyLand, I met a woman who was visiting and reminiscing fondly about her time here as a youngster. Then she suddenly stopped, looked me in the eye and told me that if anyone suggests I take a nice hike down to a famed local waterfall , don't go. They will tell you it's a short hike down to a lovely spot, but it's more like twelve miles of sheer hell. Now, I logged her comment into my head, along with the fact that they take large groups of kids to this waterfall on a regular basis. I also logged into my brain the day they had to pack out one of those kids for stitches. And then, my husband took the plunge. He came back red-faced, panting, and telling me that I might not want to hike it. I continued to log all these things into my head. You see, going was not really an option currently anyway. I have a toddler that I wouldn't dare pack down there anyway.

Then a friend offered to take my 4-year-old. This friend, mind you, is built like an ox--he packed out the girl with the split knee. He also works for my husband and swore he wouldn't let anything happen to our child. I figured if anyone could be trusted to get my child down and back safely, it was him. So they went. They apparently had a lovely time. Now I'm thinking that if my 4-year-old can manage, perhaps it isn't really twelve miles of hell.

Then, the Ox offers again to take my son and have a picnic. He also offers to pack down my toddler and bring me along too. This was not in the plan. I was safely excused by virtue of my toddler. Don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of a challenge, just pain. I'm afraid of falling, of breaking and maiming my person. I'm also a good 75 pounds overweight. But, I like to tell myself, for a fat person, I'm in pretty good shape. So, the part of me that likes a challenge began to tempt me.

What the heck. The Ox could more than likely see me down and back safely. I wasn't prepared to have him pack in the toddler yet. So, I found a sitter and the three of us hiked ourselves on down to picnic at the falls.

The first leg wasn't bad at all. Then, suddenly, the trail disappeared. I mean literally, you're hiking along and then you come to a cliff. "Where's the trail?" I asked. Pointing downward the Ox said "Right there." Now, if this had been just me, I would have chalked this one up to self-preservation and turned right back around. But, my child was there, and our friend who'd made us lunch and they were already halfway down the rock-face. So, I followed. As we descended farther and farther down--scaling rock face and scrambling down tree roots clinging to the cliff-side, I tried not to think about the hike back up.

Then, it happened. Gravity got the best of me, and somehow, I ended up flat on my back on a sharp rock. I heard a crack. Fortunately, it was just my camera. I sat up, took note of a scrape on my elbow and a bit of a throbbing on my back and then stood up. Again, had it just been me, I very well may have called it good and went home. But, something called me forward. We'd been hiking on this 30 minute hike for a good 45 at this point and I thought I could smell the falls. So, I went on.

Ten minutes later, we emerged under the falls. It was breathtaking, really. Then, suddenly I realized we weren't stopping. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked. I was informed that we still had to climb up to a large rock at the bottom of the falls.

There are many waterfalls here in FairyLand. I've visited a few of the public ones and there are always large signs telling you just how many people died last year at waterfalls. These numbers began to run through my head. But, I scrambled up the rock after my child.

Ethan and the Ox took their shoes off and traipsed through the pools at the foot of the falls. I jockeyed the zoom of my camera back into place and took a couple of pictures before the battery died (aren't I glad I brought it). We scrambled back down to another large rock for our picnic and watched our friend climb down the stream-bed rocks barefooted to join us. All the time I was thinking of just what we should do if he managed to fall and break or maim something. Did I mention I have a heightened sense of self-preservation?

We had a lovely little picnic. Then, as I laid on the rock, Ethan and the Ox climbed back up and tossed rocks down the stream. I couldn't watch. Every toss made me wince as I imagined Ethan going over the edge and the number of mortally wounded on the posters rise. I was very glad I'd decided to leave Elliot home.

Then, we packed up and headed out. Ethan chattered the whole way. Fortunately he also had to stop every few feet to check out a hole in the rock, take a drink or have a break. So, with all the resting, I felt positively capable most of the way back up. Then, the climb and the heat and humidity began to set in. By the time we reached the top, I was red-faced and panting.

But, I did it. It really wasn't terribly difficult. It was absolutely lovely. And nobody died.