My Spiritual Journey: Waterfalls and the mountain of God

This is similar to what the falls looked like. Free photo from pixels.com

A small opening in the bushes beside the road was what I always looked for. Some other wide spots along that gravel covered road looked the same, and you could easily head off the road from the wrong spot, but that one opening was enough to cue the initiated.

The trail was not marked. A waterfall was hidden back in those hills. But it was pretty much a secret, known only to locals and many locals didn't know exactly where it was. It was also a pretty hard hike, or climb might be a better word.

Because it was sort of a secret, it was fairly easy to go there at any time and not run into anyone. I lied more than once, telling people I didn't know how to get there.

It was maybe half of a mile from the gravel road that wound for miles through and around the mountain. That gravel road turned off a paved highway about 10 miles from the small community where I lived.

This was a special place, and there were a few others in those hills. Places where I could go and feel like I was one with the earth, one with the universe, and while I was there at least life was good.

There was the opening of the trail you could see, and it seemed to me like a doorway to an enchanted land. On the trail, there would be footprints, both human and animal. I liked looking for animal tracks and trying to guess what they were.

From the opening in the laurel bushes, there was a small path, a small indention in the dirt that went for about a hundred yards. The path faded away from there and was completely gone by the time you reached the first creek. That was easy to cross, and the second one was a little harder. You had to jump across from one rock to another.

After the second creek, it got interesting. If you kept going you could come to a place above the falls, and there were very high and steep rocks there. The view was not very good and it was dangerous. Not many people went there.

If you took your time and watched your step it was pretty safe. Some places were treacherous. Steep banks, boulders covered with moss making them slick. Going there in the snow was a real adventure and probably dangerous. I never heard of anyone getting seriously hurt, but a fall there could have been fatal because it would have been hours before help could arrive if it arrived at all.

No improvements were ever made to the falls or the small path. It was kind of an unspoken thing that this was an unspoiled area and locals wanted to keep it that way. Even to redneck hillbillies in Appalachia, this was something special that needed protecting.

Summers on Sunday afternoon there might be some tourists or a family wandering around, but other than that, not many people went the falls. When I went I hoped to not run into anyone, and usually, I didn't.

After the second creek, after just a few steps, you could hear the waterfall and from there you just went towards the sound. This was easier said than done and was more climbing than hiking. You had to down a very steep area from an area at the same level as the falls, to the bottom, which was about 100 feet. It was not straight down, but it was close. You had to hold on to tree branches, and at times just slide down to the next rock.

After some climbing down, the trail reappeared and again there was the sound of rushing water.

Black dirt and roots sticking up out of the ground. A thick growth of Laurels blocked the view, but they looked nice against the rest of the forest. In Spring when in bloom, it could be breathtaking.

Just one more steep hill to go up, and then around the edge to the other side.

From this angle, you would come out facing the falls, at the bottom but on the other side of the pool, the falls had created.

There was usually one column of water about two feet wide, and it dropped about 100 feet or maybe even more. About halfway down the water hit some other rocks and by the time it reached the pool, it was much wider.

The water had created a nice pool that some people were brave enough to swim in. The water was very cold even on the hottest day. The water was clear and pure. Occasionally you could see a small fish or even a rare mountain trout.

The rocks made it possible to walk around the edges, but beyond the pool, there was a very steep drop. The flowing water made the rocks slick. One bad step there and you would be falling down on rocks for a few hundred feet. No one ever did as far as I know, but they probably would have died if they had. Some people would climb the cliff on the sides of the fall. That was pretty scary, but later on, someone did install chains that made it easier.

This was really a series of falls, but it was the biggest and main one I went to see. Sometimes I would go up or down and see smaller falls. But the pool from the biggest fall was the main attraction.

Some people went there to do daredevil stunts like climb up the edges of the falls, or to dive from the high rocks into the freezing water. I don't know how deep that pool was, but people dived in from 30 feet or so and never had a problem. It was about 30 feet across and about the same from where the falls hit the rocks to where the water came out of the pool and continued down the mountain. There was about a four-foot wide area behind the falls that was fun to go to and sit. It was hard to get to and you had to swim a few feet in the very gold water, but it was worth it.

I went there for the solitude. I'd go for the quiet, which is ironic because often the sound of the pounding and rushing water made it hard to hear anything else.

But it was there my spirit would communicate with God. It was there I felt the peace that passes understanding. Often I'd just sit. And leave after an hour or so with my spirit and mind filled with good things.

One time I wrote a poem about the climb to the falls and back. I showed it to my pastor who liked it so much he put it in the church bulletin. I guess that was the first time I ever had anything published. It was the first time more than one person read something I had written. Several people commented and it felt very good.

That was one thing that led me to become a writer.