Fall is special, there is no doubt about it. There is something in humanity that makes us flock to it so we can revel in its myriad of colors. How is it that the colors of death provide such a breath of life? Maybe it’s because the death of the leaves occur but the tree still lives on, ready to endure the cold and then emerge in a burst of green as spring and summer warmth returns. The air itself paradoxically provides a feeling of warmth with its chill, much welcome after the assault of summer heat waves. All in all, there is a romantic quality to the season, and when you find a special place illuminated in fall color, it feels like you’re walking in a dream.
Maybe I wax so poetically about fall because it is such a rarity for a Floridian like myself to really be able to fully immerse in the seasonal bliss. But I certainly find that I am not alone in my reverence for the season. In fact, locals anticipate and celebrate the approach of fall far more than a seasonal tourist does (I grew quite frustrated over the summer when I returned from mountain trips bearing shots of spectacular green, only to have everyone distracted by the allure of fall approaching). I’ve never had to experience fall knowing that it was soon going to yield to cold winter, where almost all the trees lay barren in the months before spring returns color to the woods, so I know not how a local would feel in this situation.
Fall is just…special. I can remember the select few times I’ve been in an area that was really and truly fully overtaken with fall color, with cloudy weather to bring out every varied shade of the woods. One was visiting Jones Gap State Park in South Carolina, where a small pocket of impressive fall color held out till very late into November of last year. The other was at Anna Ruby Falls on this November day in 2019.
So far during my trip the fall color was mixed, but I had seen nice patches near Brasstown Bald, along the Ocoee River, and at High Shoals Falls just that morning. All of that paled in comparison to the vibrant world I entered as I navigated the road which lead to Anna Ruby Falls in Unicoi State Park, or not in Unicoi State Park, or in the Chattahoochee National Forest, I’m not sure. There were so many signs advising what pass for what lands was accepted at each individual parking area that I just decided not to park for a while. It wasn’t just confusion at the overlapping fee system that kept me venturing onward. The layers and layers of colorful woods surrounding me as the road traced along the path of a serene creek below was a virtual wonderland, and how does one start to explore a wonderland? I thought the easiest thing to do was not to start at all until I got to the end of the road, which was at the visitor’s center for the namesake fall. From here a relatively short, paved trail traces the creek uphill towards the massive double cascade that is one of north Georgia’s iconic locations.
I felt a sense of immense pressure as I grabbed my gear from Garth, with beauty surrounding me from all sides and knowing that I had to find some way of communicating and sharing that with others. The whole scene had a romantic aire, but a lot of good that did me being on a solo journey, hence even more need to create something from this visit. My biggest challenge that day wasn’t an unwelcome sun, though it did pop out a few times to provide unhelpful light as I was setting up shots. The problem was…well…Anna Ruby Falls. It’s a busy place. It’s a “tourist fall”. It’s a place that is impeccably manicured and manufactured to allow as many people as possible to enjoy it, regardless of physical ability or whether or not they think that the pass interference in the 2003 Fiesta was one of the most egregious bullshit calls in sports history (Miami was robbed!). And that’s fine. It’s great that these places exist for all ages to get out and experience nature’s wonder. I myself have had to plan a few trips around limited mobility concerns. But understanding wasn’t going to help me get people free shots.
I normally solve the people problem at these busy places by visiting at first light, before most sane people begin stirring on off days. That doesn’t always guarantee you’ll find your spot uninhabited, but at least it gives you a fighting chance. I would have shown at first thing at Anna Ruby Falls if it had been possible, but it wasn’t. It had more gates than Bill, more security checkpoints than the airport. Outside of hiking like 8 miles one way, you weren’t going to see Anna Ruby Falls before 9AM, which is right when the mostly elderly park goers hit their full stride, having just enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the local country kitchen.
I started my trek by peering behind the visitor center for my first view of Smith Creek. And what a tantalizing view it was! Snowy white patches of moving water underneath a canopy of red and gold got my mouth watering for what might lay ahead. The angle was quite a bit sharp for me to capture an optimal angle, so I ignored doing a shot in that moment, but I would do so on the return trip. There were similar scenes of beauty as I worked along the early sections of trail. Smith Creek was closed to being my ideal type of mountain creek. It had a significant white water flow, enough to make pictures really pop. Rocks, with colorful leaves strewn about their surfaces, provided the right type of shape to make for compelling frames. And of course, the fall color which adorned this creekbed far better than most others I had come across. But there was one key trait that kept it from being perfect. And that was accessibility.
Smith Creek was so tantalizingly close, yet so far away as the path traversed some 5-10 yards from its banks. Close enough to be able to see all its splendor, far enough away to rule out getting a real creek shot. Now, I could have “cheated”. I often do, straying from defined pathways and platforms to get optimal angles, and I’m not alone. I used to not do this much until I saw numerous well respected photographers and natural stewards getting lauded for shots that required crossing a barrier. That’s when I figured out that you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying, as the saying goes. I’m comfortable doing that in many places, but Anna Ruby is not one of them. The path is so well defined, being paved and often fenced. There are so many signs directing you to stay on the path that it’s almost impossible to not have one in your field of vision. This place was crawling with park rangers who may not have taken kindly had I strayed off path, but more important it was also packed with families. I didn’t want to set that kind of bad example for the younger generation (I find more creative ways to set bad examples), especially with it already being hard enough to find a waterfall bereft of what I call jackassery.
It would be unfair to act as if the trail is devoid of great creek views. On the contrary, there are a few absolutely fantastic views, one in particular being the first of two times the trail bridges the creek. The caveat is that this beautiful view is also obvious and thus almost as frequently photographed as the falls themselves. I saw the incomparable wonder of Smith Creek on this fall day and I wanted it all, not just a couple select views that the trail provided.
It would be wrong for me to focus solely on what wasn’t at Anna Ruby, when in fact there was beauty around every corner. Every bend in the trail seemed to provide another welcome opportunity to capture the pleasing curves of the pathway as it weaved between the fall forest. It was like an idealistic painting having come to life. For me, this wondrous walk was worthwhile regardless of whether there was a waterfall at the end.
For its part, the waterfall also delivered its own magic. Anna Ruby Falls is actually two separate waterfalls, as the waters of Curtis Creek and York Creek join together just beyond their respective plunges to form Smith Creek. I was well familiar with its contours as its easy access (as long as its not before 9AM) makes it one of Georgia’s most photographed locations. Still, for the second time this day (and not the last) I was taken aback by just how tall a waterfall was in person. Curtis Creek falls an impressive 153 feet, making it tower over you like a skyscraper in the distance. It is so tall that the upper reaches are almost imperceptible.
Amicalola Falls, which I had visited two days prior, is technically a larger fall, but it lacked the sheer majesty of this double tiered fall. Several viewing platforms and a bridge over the creek offer visitors a chance to get safe, unobstructed views. On this fall Monday, several dozen people lumbered about, taking selfies and snapshots to commemorate the moment.
I was satisfied with views from the bridge and close observation platform that I almost ignored the viewing platform to the right of the falls. I thought better of it, and I was rewarded with a pleasing view of the falls perfectly in line with the creek.
I had now reached the turnaround point of my hike, but I certainly wasn’t finished attempting to capture the impressive sights around me. Walking the trail in reverse provided all new angles worth capturing. I attempted a few more long exposures on the way back, but for the most part the angles I could actually capture from the trail were somewhat awkward.
To avoid being repetitive extolling the virtues of Anna Ruby Falls in this moment in time I’ll simply let a few more pictures tell the story.
I wrapped up my walk back at the visitor’s center and had a decision to make regarding what to do next. I had wanted to hike part of the Smith Creek Trail, just to get a feel for it, though I had word it didn’t really follow the creek as the name implied. The problem was that I had no idea where the hell the Smith Creek Trail was. Nor would I ever. In my attempts to find it I stumbled upon a short nature trail along the bank of the creek, so I figured what the heck. Unfortunately, when I say short, I really mean short, as it could not have been 100 yards in length, and I didn’t stop for shots because they had paled in comparison to what I had seen of the creek above the visitor’s center. The end of the trail could not have been separated from the parking area by more than ten feet, but two fences meant I had to retrace the entire path of the nature trail.
I felt like I had only been teased by the beauty of Anna Ruby. It was something I could see but could not own forever. I’m a photographer. I specialize in owning the best of things I see. I didn’t feel like I had found a way to own Anna Ruby even though it had tantalized me from the moment I first laid eyes on its parking permit signs surrounded by its luscious color. In vain I searched a bit more for around the parking area, finding an attached picnic area which the creek flowed through. Somehow Smith Creek didn’t seem to possess the magic it had upstream, or so I thought. The picnic area was far larger than I could have imagined, but I left after having taking a single solitary shot from a bridge across the creek.
The drive up had been fantastic, I thought surely some of the other picnic areas would be more promising. I pulled into a couple, risking my parking permit being improper for that particular area, but none seemed to really offer a shot worth stopping for, or at least promising enough to risk taking time away from another stop that I was sure would deliver similar spectacle. So with that, I made a decision that was to guarantee I would never tap Anna Ruby to its fullest potential.
I left.
I took the most beautiful fall color spot I had seen and I left feeling like I hadn’t gotten it to its maximum potential. My reasoning was solid in my ignorant brain. I thought that the entire area would be basking in the same glorious peak fall color, so I headed out for other trails in the vicinity of Helen which I was very excited to do before nightfall. And good trails they were to be, but a showcase of fall color they were not. Had I stayed and explored more nooks and crannies at Anna Ruby, I’m sure I would have found more stunning scenes to bring home. But I had 7 miles of trail left to explore that day, and it’s hard for me to poke around picnic areas when I can explore entire trails. So off I went to finish the day at Raven Cliff Falls and Dukes Creek Falls, leaving the special place that was Anna Ruby Falls behind me.
J. Parker Nature Stories 