Stonewall Falls is a shy, flickering interior cascade I almost didn’t achieve. Almost… Some miracles take their time unfolding. They hide. They challenge the determined heart. Everything that could stop you bars your path, while magic lies just beyond your grasp.
“…a very easy cascade for waterfall watchers to visit while in Clayton…” says Boyd of Stonewall Falls (p. 107).
Difficulty of hike?
Easy.
Stream flow?
Medium.
Rating?
Good.
“Why not tack it onto the end of my hiking day,” I say to myself as I read.
Then again, the printed guide I’m using is a decade old, and even then it was a reprint.
If you’re local to the area and have a four wheel drive truck, I’m sure you could persuade yourself that this is an easy-to-get-to destination. Actually, this day I’m not sure at all. The park service has let things go a bit. Mostly, I suspect, because, as Boyd says, the area is a mecca for “campers and mountain bikers…” Not the pickiest lot, when it comes to the upkeep of their outdoor pleasures.
You get the idea. The dirt path I’m driving comes equipped with pot holes the size of the front of my car. Steep uphills and drops greet me, where rain and run off have made things steeper and more nerve-wracking. Nifty, not-so-little turns lead to near-blind hazards. Maybe this destination and I aren’t meant to be?
Except, it’s water. And I need to see it. One thing I’ve relearned about myself this last year: I crave the sight and sound and feeling of water, flowing around me, calling me, renewing me. And it’s there, just ahead, as I’m trying to decide whether to keep going or turn back. It’s late and hot (this was last fall) and I’m tired. But there’s water waiting…
The next rut I encounter, really more of a ravine, finally stops me. The falls won’t be mine this day. My journey’s “very easy” ending has become another trip’s destination. So I make some notes in my guide and find a place to turn back.
Turning back for now, but not giving up.
Giving up on water isn’t possible.
Months later I’m back, this time with my family and my husband’s truck. I’ve scouted the best place to park going in (because it’s one of the places I turned off too soon and was almost lost before). It’s a cooler day. Still warm, but breeze is promising a winter that will refresh and revive. And it’s all new, this journey. It’s finally the right time, for this water and me.
My husband and son beside me, I strike out on the hike I was too tired to take before. Dappled light dots our quiet way. Sights and sounds of nature surround us. No wonder campers love it, this well-loved place. And mountain bikers–you can see the deep grooves where they’ve cut in and out of their favorite paths, excitement and abandon and risk their guide.
It’s peaceful and invigorating. A journey I wouldn’t have enjoyed alone. We’re following the dirt road that thwarted my car. I prefer woods for my solo adventures. But with my family this is a perfect match. Even my teen is excited about returning and camping in one of the rustic sites we pass–the same kid who didn’t want to come at all.
Then we reach the magic beneath our falls. A natural swimming pool we didn’t expect.
It’s perfect. Enchanting. Devious. Home. We long to dive in, though we have no extra clothes for the hike back.
“Next time,” we say, because there are many more visits to come.We’ll be back to is awakening that kept itself hidden from me. This shy, flickering, reflecting place that was to be ours, more than it could have been mine.
It’s the great miracle of my life, discovering water magic.
Where do you discover yours?
Tags: anna's world, creativity & inspiration, travels and memories, waterfall
Stunning images. The parks around here are magnificent. Truly a joy to walk through & literally stop to smell the roses.