I do love a good hike. . . when I am secure the trail is well-marked, the path not dangerous, the view rewarding and worth the effort . . . . Okay, I am no great outdoorswoman, but I like to be on the edge of adventure. Better yet, I like to pretend to be adventurous, to look like a hiker, one with lipstick and a cute hat.
Near our camp in the Adirondacks is a little walk in the woods that fits my requirements perfectly. I lace up my hiking boots and take my guests to trek the 1.5 mile out and back classified as a moderate hike on a well-marked trail in the Titusville Mountain State Forest. I explain to our dear friends, Bill and Debbie, that it isn’t the technical and challenging Rocky Mountain type hike they’re used to, but they’ll be rewarded with a lovely waterfall at our destination. The only part of the hike that poses a little risk is a series of steep steps, precariously joining the rocky descent to the plunge pool at the base.
The hike starts out rather sedately; we traverse a mostly flat wooded area, using bridges two boards wide to cross swampy spots and little swales. After a while we play peekaboo with the Salmon River as the trail flirts with following it. I listen for the fluty notes of a Wood Thrush and point out the sleek olive sided Cedar Waxwings flitting near the river’s edge pursuing insects. We laugh and talk while I wonder if my idea of an adventure will be too pedestrian for my guests.
Just when it appears we’ve parted with the water, the sound of a babble turns into a low roar, and I know we are getting close to the start of the cascade that descends over the first series of rock steps.
As we approach the waterfall, I reminisce about my trip to Niagara Falls as a child. The indelible impression of worrying about swimming in the river and getting too close to the warning ropes without realizing it, sends a seven-year-old imagination thrilling with fright of losing a battle with the current, and being swept over the cataract. I can see my long brown hair flowing behind me in the chunk of Jello-green-water that descends with me. (I suppose this is inspired by hearing about the little boy who survived such an ordeal after his fishing boat capsized. Dreadful thought, now that I am grown!)
Our foursome nears a group of tents, and some drowsy campers in various states of sobriety wince at our laughter, so we quieten as we pass their make-shift firepit and veer left on a loop of trail closer to the river. The water is full-blown rapids now and I explain, “We’re getting close. I think we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
The safety-nerd in me shrinks back when Debbie ventures onto an outcropping to peer down at river rapids sweeping beneath her. Dan and Bill are right behind her, on the edge of the granite protrusion. She leans over to see around the bend. I tent my hands under my chin and warn, “Please be careful!” She grins while swiveling toward me with a little hop; I swear she hops to scare me.
What looks like a flat, dry shelf is actually slightly slippery from yesterday’s rain, and Debbie’s feet fly backward toward the rapids below. I’m too shocked to scream or react as her feet slip over the rock and arms fly forward, grasping for a hold. I wonder if she survives the fall into the river, would it be possible to miss the protruding rocks and make it to the plunge pool conscious? I need to scream and get those campers to come help, but my throat is frozen.
Before these thoughts fully form, her upper body slams down, Dan and Bill are grabbing each arm and dragging her onto her knees, off the ledge. We are all shaking, hearts racing. We hug, wide eyed. I examine my friend from head to toe. Debbie is scraped and bruised, but alive.
“All I could imagine was running down the rest of the trail and trying to find your body before you floated down the river.” I relive my fearful thoughts a million more times while gripping my friend by the arm or around the waist for the rest of the hike. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” We review the facts, actions, and potential consequences of such a fall another million. Bill thanks Dan for saving his wife, but Dan reassures Bill he was the first to get a grip on her.
Later, I read a post from those clever folks at the National Park Service: “Don’t go chasing waterfalls…cautiously approach and be careful of slippery conditions. In fact, you may just want to stick to the rivers and lakes that you’re used to.”
Now they tell me? Well, with friends like ours, a simple little walk in the woods can become an epic adventure, no matter the precautions!
Your turn: When did a simple little excursion result in a cascade of unexpected events for you?
Comments