You know a few things at the beginning of a challenge.You learn a few more as you immerse yourself in the day-to-day. Like when Brian Boyd in his Waterfalls Book says, “turn at the Days Inn from Clayton,” you better hope the Days Inn is still there, but he’s serious about his landmarks ;o)
The problem with working from a 20-year-old guide book is that some things just are where they used to be. Luckily, the North Georgia Mountains is still enough of a tourist destination certain times of the year, I found my right-hand turn onto “Warwoman” Rd (you better believe I double-checked that name to make sure I wasn’t misreading it), because without the Inn to show me my way I’d have been a bird dog without a scent to track–there’s NO STREET SIGN at the intersection, because it’s a funky little fork off HWY 441 (that perhaps they added FOR the Days Inn), and you don’t really hook up with Warwoman until a few hundred yards further.
Good, I thought, as I and Warwoman got better acquainted, the first challenge was behind me on my way to Becky Branch falls. I’m now on the lookout for the Warwoman Dell Recreation Area, 2.4 miles down the road. 2.4, mind you. And I was tracking that mileage carefully, given that the directions were so exact. Turns out mileage is something Mr. Boyd played a bit more fast and loose with. That .4 can come sooner in some directions, take you further in others. At some point, you have to throw the guide book onto the passenger seat, slow your speed to a crawl and scan the farmland outside your window, often for several passes, until you find the obscure entrance into a local park that everyone who lives there can locate blindfolded.
Once you do pull through the overgrown entrance at the WDRA, you’re supposed to part HERE. Keep in mind, there’s a trail where you can drive further into the park, two parking areas by a stream (a good sign, since I’m hunting a falls), and numerous more natural places to park all over the place. So, finding HERE is an adventure all its own. But I’m good with sticking to the intent if not the letter of Boyd’s directions and park near the one building I find–an outlook with a vista over the stream. Near it (after wandering in circles for a while) I find a sign that says “this way” and points across the rustic road, sending me to another overgrown path that’s a continuation of Bartram Trail.
Excellent, Bartram Trail is a landmark in my water search. Actually, according to the hiking trail guide I also bring with me on each walk, it’s a meandering trail that begins near the North Carolina border and roughly follows the boundary of the 14k acre Warwoman Wildlife Management Area. I make a note to hike more of this beautiful area with my husband and move on (there’s actually another falls I’ll later decide to visit along this same path I’m following, once I actually do find Becky Branch). But I digress–which is easy for me (and clearly Mr. Boys at times) once I’m out of the car and into nature and loving the feel and smell and silent sounds and textures of this world I need in my life more every day.
Remember that some directions are the same year-in and year-out, and some have to be tossed aside for the new. I’m told to follow Bartram Trail north. I reason that that’s a pretty solid indicator, so I figure out which way’s north and follow. I’ll pass back over the road I came in on. Interesting, I didn’t see a path marker as I drove through. Well, THAT’s because where you pass back over the state road (heavily travelled with speeding commercial trucks, it seems) is at the hairpin portion of a corkscrew turn–you know, where the driver’s more interested in not running off the road than observing his or her surroundings–or whomever might be hiking across the road to find water. Excellent.I wave politely at the trucker who almost makes road kill out of me and blows his horn in frustration, then continue into the woods on the other side.
At which point I’m told I’ll find a “steep” several hundred yard walk. But how steep could it be, if the waterfall’s only .25 miles from where I began, and at least .2 of those miles are behind me? That is, if you can go by Mr. Boyd’s .2 indication here any better than you can while you’re driving. Turns out, when you’re hiking, the man’s notations are right on. When he says steep, he means steep. When the descriptor for the walk lists “moderate” he means “not for beginner hikers.”
My knees are in great shape. I’m running/biking 4-5 miles a day so my legs are plenty fresh, even though this is my third waterfall of the day. But my ankles… They gave out on me back in high school basketball. I’d worn my stabilizers, thankfully, to keep my wheels on as I step over things in the woods. If I hadn’t, the VERY steep climb to the hill ahead wouldn’t have been possible. Mostly because I know coming back down is my problem, more than going up. My ankles tend to turn on a steep downhill. And I’m hiking alone today. I wouldn’t have been able to keep going if I hadn’t been prepared by Mr. Boyd’s excellent description of the trail. For others who follow me, I recommend sturdy shoes and a stick if you’re prone to losing your balance.
I finally find the bridge he mentions. I finally find the breeze that always accompanies falling water. I CAN actually reach out and touch the water of this tiny little falls, while my calves un-cramp themselves.
There’s not much water here, and I didn’t expect much. Boyd’s ever dependable at describing the water, if nothing else at times. It’s a lovely place, regardless.
And what I thought, while I contemplated the ankle-cracking hike back to the death-pin turn in the road and my car beyond, is that when you’re hunting water, much like when you’re hunting your next book contract, the old roadsigns and landmarks aren’t always your friends. You have to pay close attention to your both them and your surroundings to find your way. You have to be prepared, but also be ready to find your own way if need be.
Some landmarks and road signs stay the same. Others don’t. Creativity is in order when tradition stops working and hiking ahead on your own is your only course of action. You have to be willing to double back and start over sometimes, and you have to watch those oncoming obstacles trying to run you down, always keeping your eye on which direction the water (or your industry, to continue the analogy) is flowing so you don’t get lost as you react to the crisis at hand.
Beyond Becky Branch falls, and beyond this place in my writing career, is a hike of wonderful adventure I’m ready to take, dated directions and unforeseen hazards and all. Whenever there’s water, and writing, involved, especially when it’s a challenging climb, that’s where you’ll find me.
Tags: anna's world, Becky Branch Falls, creativity & inspiration, travels and memories, waterfall
I enjoyed the analogies.
Beautiful pictures, Anna!
I very much enjoyed this post; both for the narrative on your hike and the analogies to your writing ‘journey’!