Let me just start by telling you in my best Earth mama hippy chick voice that, ‘this place has some amaaaazing spiritual energy!’ But seriously, it’s humming with cool juju.
Such a strange and beautiful setting.
The sheer faces of the creek bed mean that there’s no where to put a trail to the Lower Oneonta Falls, which are only about a half mile from the road. This means the creek is the trail. Which means that if you want to see the falls, you are going to get wet.
I knew this going into this approach, but as I scaled the slippery, sketchy log jam, I was thinking something along the lines of wading up to my shorts and getting my trail shoes soaked. And then I watched the person in front of me slowly wade forward, holding his camera high overhead, as the water crept up to his mid-section. He was pretty tall.
I stood at the start of this deeper pool section pondering to myself the merits of wading chest deep through puckeringly cold water just to see a waterfall, in an area of the world where there were literally waterfalls around every corner right off the road.
And of course I went for it. Because that’s what this weekend was about. Going for it! Living! Facing life as it is, uncomfortable and insanely beautiful.
So grateful! There was just something magical about this one. The way the sun was pouring over the cliff with the water, making everything glow. Just an otherwordly feeling.
Which doesn’t mean I didn’t hesitate on the way back before plunging into that pool. Brrrr!