The hike up to the twin falls is a journey into another dimension. Towering evergreens and thick brush surround the entrance to the trail. Civilization is soon a million miles away. No cars, no ringing cell phones. The only sound is the occasional bird alerting others of approaching humans.
Moss-covered trees lean out into the path, their mossy fingers stretching, guiding passing hikers deeper into the woods.
The trails wind around, through, and over streams as clear as polished glass. The smell of wet stones and cool mud punctuates crisp morning air.
Soon, the earth begins to gently tremble beneath the hiker’s feet. The air fills with moisture as they near the falls.
Foamy, whitewater explodes at the head of the stream.
The falls send milky tendrils of water crashing to pools 100 feet below.
The watery fingers sway and dance with the ever-changing mountain breezes.
Standing, listening to the symphony of rushing waters, a bald eagle is heard screeching from above, a signal that it’s time to begin the long walk out, plunging back into the sea of green.