It was nearly dark as I made my way along a footpath I could barely see. I resisted the urge to use my cell phone as a flashlight, though it wasn’t because I was worried about the power consumption. Rather, I wanted to spend a moment disconnected from everything, instead in tune with the woods around me for one last moment, even if I could barely see them. Besides, the family of nearly a dozen not far behind me on the trail was providing enough occasional illumination to give me everything I needed to get back to my car. This day, my last in the mountains of North Carolina, had ended almost the exact way it started; hiking in the dark since I was squeezing every last moment of daylight I could.
The place was not South Mountains State Park but instead Catawba Falls. I had rushed here from Shortoff Mountain to try to squeeze in one last good sojourn and one last chance to nail some shots of moving water in late day light. Aside from the chance to photograph, Catawba Falls is one of a small handful of falls within driving range of Asheville that I still had yet to see, only the immensely sunny days I had encountered throughout my trip just didn’t lend themselves to visiting a ton of waterfalls. Catawba was nice in that it had a trail that was short enough to walk quickly, a necessity if you wanted to photograph till the edge of darkness, while it was long enough to have a lot of possibility of encountering nice scenes. It’s trail ran in close proximity to the river, which was really much more of a creek here. If you follow my work, you’ll know that I enjoy much more the act of photographing tumbling creeks than actual waterfalls.
The parking area was teeming with people as I pulled in late in the afternoon. Though it wasn’t unexpected, being a popular waterfall at the height of fall, it was a little bit of a shock to my system. For a few days in a row I’d actually felt relatively isolated on the trails, culminating in my 11.5 mile journey through the Flat Laurel Creek area which was largely abandoned, save for search and rescue personnel, due to the active search for a missing hiker. To be honest with myself, I had expected nearly every place I went to be buzzing as Catawba Falls was – that’s how it was every day at every stop when my wife and I had been in North Carolina almost exactly three years prior. For much of the trail it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, for the trail was plenty wide to allow for distance and most people typically completely overlooked the creek scenes I like so much. Getting a good long exposure of a waterfall with this type of crowd…that might be a unicorn.
As I started out on the trail I could tell right away that this was going to be a really beautiful place. The path started out winding through a stack of rhododendron that was still lush even late in the year. The path was so smooth here it may as well have been paved. At least in this section I didn’t think I’d have any trouble at all walking in the dark if I stayed late. Soon the path straightened out and widened. It was also heading right towards the sun which was low enough in the sky to be peeking through the trees. I took advantage to try and utilize the trees for some sun flares. The sun provided some golden shades to the trees, but by and large there was still a lot more green than one might expect at this juncture in fall – especially considering how many places I had been this trip that were essentially barren.
This is the second year I’ve taken a trip up north in the fall, and I’ve definitely more swings and misses in terms of fall color as I have hits. There is no doubt that you can encounter a certain magic and romanticism when you stumble upon the right fall scene – probably the most beautiful thing you can encounter. But there’s also a lot of times when you’ll encounter barren or mismatched woods. As somebody who didn’t really experience how lush the rainforests of southern Appalachia can be until well into my adult life, I found there’s not much less magic in mountain summer, and the consistency and predictability of what you’ll see makes the season more enjoyable to me. It just took me a couple fall trips to really figure that out.
Ahead I got the first views of the small river just to the right of the trail. It was pleasant enough, but there wasn’t much to photograph here, and thus I didn’t have time to linger. As I moved further up the trail the river ran in close proximity to it, providing a nice feel to the walk. Ahead, I encountered the trail bridge over the river. This scene was nice enough, with the sun shining through a patch of rhododendron to the left, and quite a bit of golden foliage in the canopy, that I did something I rarely do and got the tripod out for a non-moving water shot. And amazingly, despite the busy trail, I was able to hone in the shot to my liking without interruption.
After the trail crossed the bridge it ventured a ways from the river but still in view. The trial then oriented itself in line with the sun once again. This gave the opportunity for some nice views framing the trail, but it didn’t necessarily bode well for my chances at capturing the river. With the sun being directly in line with both trail and river, this meant that the surrounding ridgelines weren’t really blocking the sun, which is part of what I was counting on to be able to get shots of the river even on a sunny day.
I spent a long stretch on the trail making my way to the waterfall not quite as fast as I could have because by now I realized that I was going to have to hold out till around or after sunset to photograph the way I would like. As I ventured ahead the trail gradually climbed in elevation, to the point where eventually the trail was at the top of a tall but very gradual slope working down towards the river. As I looked at the waterway down below I felt a twinge of sadness. It had a near constant series of small rapids that I would have found sheer heaven to be able to photograph. If I had really wanted, I could have made my way through the light brush to reach the river, but it wasn’t worth the effort with their not being the necessary light. As it was, I was looking down on a missed connection that, being my last day in the mountains, I’d have no chance of making right for a long time. And it wasn’t just the beautiful Catawba River down below that I was or had picked off; rather, it was all the waterways that I’d missed out on photographing, only having about two hours of cloudy weather in nearly 5 full days.
Eventually there was a rather define trail that took a diagonal course down the slope towards the river, and I took the chance to get an up close view again. After 100 yards or so through some woods I reached the river and it was every bit as beautiful as it appeared it would be from above. There were constant small rapids traveling between rocks that were sometimes completely covered in fallen leaves. Maybe sixty yards upstream a small waterfall made for a nice background. The light wasn’t ideal but the scene was nice enough that I went ahead and setup to take a shot. When I saw the results it was probably worse than I expected, for backlight creates a massive fog when using a neutral density filter, at least one that isn’t graduated, which I didn’t have.
Back on the trail again I came across an unbridged creek crossing . By now many families were going to and from the falls, all of them opting to rock hop over the very shallow creek. I had long since dispensed with such efforts at comfort, for my feet had been wet since walking in the water to photograph the Jacob Fork River at South Mountains just after sunrise. While walking across the creek I noted the small waterfall coming in. Just for the satisfaction of photographing something that wasn’t spoiled by the sun I tried a shot here, but my heart wasn’t in the shot, and the constant gaggle of people going just behind my back eroded my concentration even further.
There was a more satisfying tributary creek crossing ahead. This one had a bridge, and the terrain was getting that telltale ruggedness that lets you know you’re getting close to a waterfall. Most people were simply walking right past this spot on the way the fall. I had no reason to rush, for I knew the later I got to the fall, the less chance I’d waste time waiting for the sun to get out of the way of my shot. On top of that, I found this lightly tumbling creek a very pleasant sight anyway. It wasn’t necessarily a full waterfall here, but at any rate the creek was cascading with regularity.
Once I had gotten my frame hammered down of the creek I packed up and headed towards the waterfall in earnest. I reached the fall and noted the shallow pool in front of it. I had expected this, since I had seen pictures of some of my friends standing in this pool when they had visited over the summer. When I saw that there was nobody in the pool or otherwise climbing on the waterfall, I didn’t hesitate, and in no time I had my tripod deployed and the fall frame. And just as I had hoped, the sun had finally gone far enough down that it wasn’t going to impact my shot. I took aim and fired.
I didn’t spend an immense amount of time honing my shot beyond a few variations in zoom. For one, I was wanting to get some shots of the river in the short period of good light before dark. But also, I was definitely encouraged to hurry this along when my feet, tired from the assault of 5 straight days of activity and not assisted by my bad hips, nearly lost footing in the water, possibly taking my very expensive camera rig down with it. That was all that was necessary to get me moving again. Catawba Falls, I hardly knew thee.
(there is an upper Catawba Falls that I was aware of. I had never entertained visiting that as I knew the trail was beyond my ability level being injured during this trip)
I wasted absolutely no time getting down to the river however I could. The light was finally good, and I was going to take advantage, but it was ever so close to dark now – I had really hoped I would get more time. The first place I came too looked more exciting in person than it did in the camera once I got setup, but not wanting to leave completely empty handed I did a few cursory shots anyway before moving foward.
I next made my way down on a much more difficult descent to what was essentially a small waterfall, flowing over another set of rocks adorned with leaves, with more nice color in the frame. I thought this was a pretty cool spot, and I felt really good as I was dialing it up for a shot. What I found when I actually got to review the shots sometime later was that it didn’t pop on the screen quite as well as it did in the camera. Still, this was a better representation of the river than I had gotten thus far.
While on the outbound leg of my journey I had noted the location of the old mill, which is essentially another unofficial waterfall located along the trail. What is unofficial about it is that this fall is actually pretty much artificial, being the result of manmade activity years ago. Nevertheless I thought it would make a good picture- at least I did before I went down to see it in person. I had done a really treacherous descent to Upper Dill Falls a few days prior, and in general I had been very aggressive at doing scrambles I normally would have passed up. This little to scramble down to the mill may have been the most challenging I did, and I found that from the bottom it wasn’t exactly the spectacle I was hoping for. A big reason why was that the upper tier was almost entirely obscured from where I could get to. What had made this look potentially worth the challenge in the first place was the two tiers in succession. So again, I took a half-hearted shot, but this was one scramble that was definitely not worth the effort at all.
Daylight, and by extension my time in the mountains, was evaporating quickly. I still didn’t feel like I’d gotten one noteworthy shot of what was a tremendously captivating waterway. I was beginning to feel a little desperate. For me, it wasn’t necessarily for my own vanity that I needed even more shots to add to what by now is a pretty good list examples to show that I can photograph well every now and then. It was more that I had seen something truly beautiful, and I wanted to share with others. And for my own sake, I wanted an image for posterity and to capture my experience that I could view years and years from now. Forward I moved, taking the next chance I could to get down to the river as there were only waning minutes left before all it was too dark to photograph.
The next path I took down to the river was another somewhat challenging scramble that involved clawing through some brush at the end, but I finally emerged at a familiar spot right near the small waterfall I had seen on my very first side trek to the riverbed here. By now, I didn’t have time to overthink, so I dropped the tripod down and did the long exposure version of firing away. I got the most balanced frame I could and as long as it appeared I got things in focus without camera shake I moved on to the next.
I’m not the least bit shy about getting my feet wet in these small creeks and rivers if it’s what’s needed to get a good shot – and usually it is. Doing that in this river was kind of easier said than done though. It had a very rock and uneven course, both above and below water. With it being so close to dark I really couldn’t see what was underwater well at all. It took a lot of effort and concentration to safely move downstream so I could get a different shot. I mostly stayed very low to the ground and used my tripod as an impromptu walking stick whenever possible. I definitely felt rewarded though when I found a nice angled shot of the river that also included the color in the area and the small fall in the background. Here, mere minutes before complete darkness, I was finally getting the shots of the river I had hoped for.
I moved back even farther, ever so carefully working my way past another set of small rapids in the process, and I absolutely loved what I saw. The rapids made such a beautiful subject. Not that it was a surprise that they did – this was the second time I had visited them today. They are the same ones I had been at earlier, only now the sun wasn’t casting uneven light along the river. In fact, the sun wasn’t casting any light at all. It was clear that this was it – this was the last spot I could photograph at Catawba Falls. This is the last spot I could photograph before leaving the mountains. This is the last spot I could photograph before having hip surgery and losing the ability to hike for possibly a very long time.
Knowing that, I couldn’t stop trying to hone in on the shot, I couldn’t stop trying to perfect it. I made minor variations, stuff so small that when viewing the pictures later I might not even be able to tell what I was trying to do. Though it was only a few minutes, I photographed until the camera couldn’t focus anymore in the dark. I felt my feet grow numb in the cold water of the fall creek, but I didn’t mind. The fact that I could feel discomfort holding my feet in a cold mountain creek at dusk made me feel alive. I didn’t want to let go on the trip, one that had started with me legitimately afraid that I wouldn’t be able to walk more than half a mile before my bad hip would get too inflamed to continue, and ended up seeing me do some of the longest, most challenging, and adventurous hiking I’d ever done despite two bad hips. I didn’t want to confront the reality that was waiting for me at home – having to return for another stressful week of work prior to surgery, then having to deal with whatever pain and other trials the surgery left me with. I wish I could have never left the Catawba River, but it WAS dark, and I wanted dinner too.
I solemnly headed back uptrail, with the trickle of families that had been at the falls late also making the trek. I had no possibility of photographing anything, and could scarcely see the trees lining the trail, but just the sense that I was in the forest for a few more minutes gave me a bit of joy. AS I reached the car and began stowing my gear, the fun of my pre-surgery mini trip had ended. From here on it was all going to be business – the journey back to Florida, back to the real world, and back to significant challenges.
I found Catawba Falls just as beautiful of a place as South Mountains State Park, but even though I had ever so limited time to photograph either place in the absence of overwhelming sunlight, I seemed to have much better luck at South Mountains. Nearly every place I was able to reach to setup there was a good shot easily found. At Catawba Falls, I just didn’t have the same luck in finding great frames under duress. Likewise, I hadn’t been able to do but a fraction of what was at South Mountains State Park – only doing the journey to High Shoals Falls and back – but what I did get to do, I feel like I saw the best it had to offer. With Catawba Falls, there was just enough degree of separation between you and the river to make it take a bit of effort to get an up close view of the river in all but a few places. Thus I ended up feeling like there was a lot of stuff left unseen, even though the course of the trail was only a mile and a half.
I was right to feel concerned about the effects of the surgery on my ability to hike. Even having to spent a few months not hiking back home in Florida is hard for me to swallow. Following the surgery, I was able to hike in gradually increasing doses 3-4 months following the surgery, but it’s now more than 6 months after the surgery and I am still having significant pain and trouble every day. I’ve made it to nearly 8 miles since the surgery, with some discomfort of course, but have done that in Florida, where even our most hilly trails are barely more than speed bumps compared t the mountains. I have serious doubts about whether or not I’ll make it hiking in the mountains. I have serious doubts about whether I’ll ever resume a normal life where pain and dysfunction isn’t limiting me. So this trip I took, working my way through on bad hips – it was a worthwhile endeavour. I may not have been able to photograph places like Catawba Falls the way I would have wanted to, but I did get out and get to explore and enjoy, and I will never take that for granted with what I have been through. If you have that ability, neither should you.
J. Parker Nature Stories 