I was nervous. Scared. We were in our distinctly non-four wheel drive Toyota Corolla (though I scarcely think I would have felt comfortable in any vehicle). We were on a narrow, gravel, one-lane road heading up a mountainside to God know’s where. And we were in completely over our heads.
I knew where we wanted to go. I had good directions to multiple waterfalls located on short trails at four different parking areas along this road. We had already found one, though I had a sneaking suspicious than I had passed the second without positively identifying it, despite being on the lookout The young man on the four-wheeler who had been zooming repeatedly through the area had passed us and we asked him if there was a turnaround point up ahead. He said something along the lines of not really. I said something along the lines of shit.
A decision was made. We were going to back down the roadway, back to the most recent place where we knew we could turn around. Difficult as it is, backing down a fairly steep one lane gravel road in the mountains, I had nearly successfully attained my goal when we were thwarted by the appearance of another vehicle. No problem. We were almost there, they should see what we’re doing and back up the short distance so we can turnaround. The Florida license plate on the back should clue them in that we were struggling on this mountain road. If that was too small to read, the Toyota Corolla that had no business being on this type of road surely wasn’t. But he kept coming, slowly but surely. If I continued on my path, we were going to collide. I made a quick choice.
I hit the brakes and quickly switched the car from reverse to drive, but this process was accomplished much easier than getting the car to actually go forward on the steep, unstable surface. The wheels merely spun in place as the air took on a slight burning smell. Warning lights blared on the dash, most of which I couldn’t identify and haven’t seen since. It felt for a moment as if the car were going to slide of the road, and while it wasn’t a super steep, deadly drop off the road, it was farther than I was interested in plunging our Toyota Corolla at that particular point in the trip (I usually try to save the vehicle plunging into the woods moments for later days of a trip, after I’ve already accomplished a bit). Finally the car lurched forward, and we were again heading back uphill, under control but practically shaking from the stress of the moment.
I can’t tell you how we got off that damn mountain road. Perhaps I blocked it from my memory due to traumatic stress. All I know is that eventually we emerged from the woods, shaken but otherwise ok, with the trusty Corolla showing less long-term ill effects than we did.
The road was Forest Road 150 in the Chattahoochee National Forest. The creek was Darnell Creek. The drink was Mountain Dew. After visiting the fascinating Tallulah Gorge and enjoying some boiled peanuts from a roadside stand (I can’t tell you what excites me more, nature spots or good homemade boiled peanuts) we had some time to kill as we worked our way towards Highlands, NC., where we would visit Glen Falls, and I put my months of research into use.
There was a good trip report and guide written by my friend Mark Oleg of Hiking the Appalachians and Beyond (https://www.hikingtheappalachians.com, a resource I consulted frequently in my research for the thorough informative guides, despite the fact that the author’s comfort and experience level with both mountain hikes and driving far exceeds my own) for a place called Darnell Creek, which seemed to offer great bang for your buck (free) by allowing access to four waterfalls with negligible walking and in a quiet, secluded setting to boot, far different from nearly every other packed waterfall we had or would see over this week+ in the mountains. I looked forward to stretching my legs photographing mountain waters. Though the four falls were an allure, I was more focused on enjoying one or two to the fullest before leaving with enough time to enjoy Glen Falls, which was our real goal for that afternoon, before dark.
We first turned off the highway onto a paved road, before navigating a series of intersections that lead us to the small dirt road that would be our launching point for all four falls. I didn’t have undue concern at the narrow roadway as the way to the first pull-off for Darnell Creek was rather tame and level, and we didn’t encounter any other vehicles on the remote roadway. Only some 100 yards of easy pathway separated us from the creek and the first fall, actually called Darnell Creek Falls, and we could hear the flow of water as we exited the vehicle and made our way to the water. The way was framed by the bright green foliage typical of southern Appalachian creekbeds, and our feet touched softly on a carpet of fallen leaves as we walked. The day continued to be delightfully partly cloudy, which prevented harsh dapple light from causing contrast in the understory but whose subdued rays illuminated the golden hues that were beginning to fill the treetops. There was a divine feeling to this pleasant afternoon at this secluded spot.
Our first view of the creek was not of the fall, but instead a small set of rapids 50-70 yards downstream of them. This was actually the first small mountain creek I came across with my full complement of camera gear and able to fully photograph, and this started an enduring love affair with mountain creeks and their water features that has continued on every subsequent mountain visit. I had been using neutral density filters and working on long exposures when the opportunity presented itself for almost two years. Unfortunately, the opportunity doesn’t present itself very often in Florida, so despite moving water becoming my favorite photographic subject, I was still rather a novice. Being at that quiet spot in good light with nobody else around but me and my wife allowed me to experiment with the craft in a situation truly befitting it. I had several different filters of varying strength, with the most powerful ones being somewhat of a pain in the butt to use, as the camera can’t focus with them on. This requires the delicate balancing act of focusing the camera and then screwing the filter on without knocking it out of focus or moving the tripod, which can be quite a challenge as filters rarely snugly fit in the threads on a lens upon first attempt, which can and has resulted in many a broken filter as dropping them during this process is frequent (more on that in a future post). Sometimes putting on the filter is, quite literally, a balancing act, as oftentimes the best area to photograph a waterfall or waterway is on a treacherous slope or rock, as nature didn’t always design itself for easy access.
After some experimentation I found that, much to my chagrin, the longer exposures from the most powerful filter just gave a “wow” to the pictures that wasn’t present in the shorter (but still technically “long”) exposures I got with other, easier to use ones. Bummer. From then on, I knew that getting the most of a long exposure involved the tedious act described earlier, plus having to let the camera sit for a long time taking the shot. On numerous occasions I’ve tried to cut corners and get away with using less the less powerful filters and easier method, but I’ve been unsatisfied with the results. I could take four lesser long exposures compared to the time it takes for my standard, but that’s usually the difference between getting one great shot or no great shots (merely good ones end up forgotten). Ironically, in addition to being lighter and easier to maneuver and setup, my lower resolution mirrorless camera, brought along on the trip only to be a backup camera, got used a lot for its ability to get exposure times into that “wow” range while still being able to focus without having to screw on a filter, owing to its newer, less light sensitive sensor.
We spent a really long time just enjoying this stretch of rapids, the sights and sounds of the place as well as the thrill of being able to unleash my camera and filters. I gave little care to the fact that us spending so much time here would likely prevent us from getting to all four falls before having to leave; what mattered in this particular moment was that we were two Floridians getting to enjoy a mountain creek in fall for the first time. I did have some care about something that happened while we were there. The lens cap for my 18-105mm lens, which had been with me since receiving my first DSLR in 2011 and whose strengths I was beginning to appreciate more after getting a complementary super wide angle, fell in the creek and disappeared. Not down the creek, as one might anticipate, but instead getting sucked upstream and under the rock at the top left due to some current. We tried our best but could not located the filter under the rock. This seemingly minor inconvenience lead to big consequences; for while I also kept filters on my lenses for extra protection at all times (filters are more easily replaced than lenses), by the end of the trip the turbulence endured by my camera bag on mountain hikes caused the filter to pop off, which then left the lens surface exposed in my bag, resulting in something causing significant scratches on the lens surface. It was effectively done for. We pass the entrance turnoff to Darnell Creek regularly, as US23 is the gateway to just about everything in that part of Appalachia, and I always joke that I have to go back and retrieve my lost lens cap from Darnell Creek.
We slowly inched our way upstream towards the fall. There were several places where sets of rapids made a pleasing sight with the fall in the background, but I wasn’t able to capture this in person. The fall itself was of course, pleasant to see, more interesting in person than it was in pictures. It contained a narrow but surprisingly powerful flow, plunging maybe some 20 feet into a wide pool below. A wide but uneven rock sat opposite the fall and almost as tall, effectively preventing access to the plunge pool below. I again experimented with filters and exposure times, but this time I never really came across a satisfying “wow” setting for a waterfall. And I’ve never actually really been able to find that on subsequent visits to waterfalls either. I just liquefy them and hope for the best.
I wasn’t very good at composing this waterfall, and I’m honestly usually not the greatest at them. I found a much more pleasing look could be found looking downstream from that flat rock.
We spent the requisite time enjoying the fall before deciding there was enough time to venture on to the next fall up the road before advancing to Highlands to visit Glen Falls, still a bit of a drive away. I gave far more thought to reading the description of how to find the next pull-off than I did to the way the road curved at a pretty steady uphill pace. Not really having experienced many Appalachian mountain dirt roads, I hadn’t really given much thought to them and how terrifying they could be before now (they seemed more reliable than our Florida sugar sand backwoods roads). That was when our unfortunate episode listed at the beginning of this blog happened. And let me tell you, after that, I am a changed man. I will never haphazardly hop on a mountain dirt road again without having conducted research and assuring myself that it will meet me quality standards by not offering ample opportunity for near death experiences. If I can’t verify it, I don’t drive it. But we did make it, and soon, after assuring ourselves that the car was ok despite the burning smell emanating from it, we were on the curvy path to cap off our day at Glen Falls.
The trip from north Georgia to Highlands involved our first ascent to Sky Valley on Georgia 246. Before rising in elevation there are quiet expansive views of the valley around you, but the road then begins a serpentine path that dazzles by briefly entering North Carolina, then re-entering Georgia. Cool trick bro. A waterfall towered about the scene off in the distance, and while I’ve seen tall waterfalls plunge off the side of a mountainside many times, I’ve rarely seen a normal size waterfall start and end on the mountainside well above you. I wasn’t sure what fall that was, and I later found it was likely Estatoah Falls, which is fairly close to the roadway but on private land. After the not another state fake out there’s a large, obvious pull-off for a scenic overview to the right. We stopped here and took in views of the valley now well below us, but unfortunately the sky was beginning to be overtaken with storm clouds, some of which could be seen dropping rain in the distance. Suddenly we were concerned that our visit to Glen Falls might be marred by rain, and we doubled our efforts to reach Glen Falls quickly.
A slight drizzle was in the air as we made the turnoff from US 64 to the road which lead to the Glen Falls parking area. Seeing the brown national forest sign excited me, for not only did it remind me of summers in my youth spent in the Nicolet National Forest of northern Wisconsin, but I was also truly excited to see Glen Falls itself. Highlands and the surrounding area offers a wealth of great natural locations, but the opportunity to see the stunning triple features of Glen Falls won out over all the others. The road was rather pleasant heading to the parking area, but I had little time to dwell on that on the way in.
Fear of missing out on this stop caused us to pile out of the vehicle rather quickly. I grabbed my camera bag, an umbrella, and my tripod, hoping for the best but fearing that rain would overtake me before reaching the fall. It was scarcely over a mile to reach the three overlooks of Glen Falls, a distance which feels further when one knows there is weather in the area but can’t see the sky through the forest. I headed out ahead of Jess, knowing she would catch up with me at the falls themselves. On this fall Sunday there were many people heading up the trail, but few were heading down like we were. I had to keep my camera in the bag to keep it protected from the occasional raindrops, and in my haste of making my way down the trail, I can scarcely recall much of what it was like, save for a gradual descent with a continual mix of slopes and stairs.
Perhaps it was because my nerves gave me speed, but I reached the first view rather quickly. Unfortunately, the viewing area was itself more photogenic than its actual view. The foliage was nice here, and a wooden fence kept the trail and viewing area separate from the think but swift creek flowing by. With seemingly no time to waste, we (Jess had caught up rather quickly) advanced to the next viewpoint.
We were somewhat further north here than where we had started the morning at Tallulah Gorge, and though the woods were as yet approaching peak, they were distinctly more full and yellow than what we had seen before. We made our passage through a short patch of woods to the next overlook, and this is where Glen Falls began to reveal itself. Where the first view delivered little, this overlook had views in multiple directions. To the right, one could see the absolutely gorgeous wide middle tier of Glen Falls, while to the left, one could see the top of another tier dropping over the precipice, with slight visions of the valley behind. It was a remarkable view, especially with the fall color, but if anything the threat of rain seemed to be getting worse. Without time to think, I found a window between the fall, hastily plopped by tripod down, and took the best long exposure I could without time to use filters to enhance the shot. The shot I got was fantastic, everything I could have hoped for, leaving me to wonder if I would have taken a worse shot had I tried to think it through. Regardless, the light flow of water framed by a mix of green and light fall color was more than satisfying.
I had no time to rest and savor the good fortune, for there was still more to be seen of Glen Falls, if only I could get there before the rain, and I was not sure whether the next tier of the fall would be ever more impressive. As it happened, I did prefer to middle tier to the as yet to be seen lower tier. But that is not to say that the lower tier was unimpressive. It too offered its own scenic splendor, with a better, more frontal view to be had as well. While it wasn’t quite as pleasing of a view, it made up for it by offering more framing options. Now that I knew I was pretty much at the penultimate view, I felt less rushed and was able to spend more time trying out different viewpoints, both for the camera and for my own in-person enjoyment.
While I was playing around with the various views of Glen Falls’ lower tier, a funny thing happened.
The sun came out. And not in one of those little rays peaking out, providing a slight golden glimmer to an otherwise even scene. No, this was full-on super dappling, soul-crushing, scene-stealing light, the kind that causes real camera folks to put their camera away and say “that’s a wrap.” In a matter of moments we had gone from practically running downhill to beat an incoming rainstorm to sun that was too legit to quit. But I was very happy. Glen Falls met expectations, Tallulah Falls had exceeded lofty expectations, and we didn’t lose our vehicle on Darnell Creek. I had now done a strenuous stair-filled journey and then a moderate hike on top of it and I hadn’t even had to think much about my injured hip all day. It was a spectacular feeling and the best of all possible outcomes.
There was one last additional moment that capped off our day. Exiting Highlands, we were taken about by a stunning roadside pulloff on US 64 that gave a staggering view of a valley below, with a very unique, jagged peak framing it on the right. This peak was Whiteside Mountain, which offers a short hike that I had put on my shortlist of options for the trip, but one I had chosen Glen Falls over. I was happy with my choice of Glen Falls, but Whiteside looked cool enough that I knew I would have to take the opportunity to hike up its distinct rock face to savor the views at the top (and we would on our next trip to the mountains 9 months later). We pulled off to enjoy the roadside view, something that Florida rarely offers, and it really hit home that just some 30 hours ago we were in flat Florida, and now we were in a land of wild peaks. What made this moment most amusing however, is that another couple joined us with the same idea. Lo and behold, they were from Florida as well, and they were roughly doing the same type of itinerary we were, just in reverse.
And, save for a sometimes harrowing drive along a dark curvy road to our lodging in Brevard, that was finally a wrap for the first full day of our Honeymoon 2017.
J. Parker Nature Stories 