Day 180: That Time I Fell Down a Waterfall
- ZJC
- Apr 17, 2020
- 8 min read
Author’s Note #1: You can skip over this part:
[To preface this story, I must say that the word “fell” is not accurate to what the imagination conjures when someone tells you that they “fell down a waterfall”, mostly because when people hear the word waterfall they imagine the curtain of water cascading over sharp boulders a few hundred feet over a cliff. That was not the case. Conversely, if I were to tell you that I “slid down a waterfall”, one may not know how to visualize it or think that I was just playing on a waterslide. Additionally, the word “slide” or “slid” does not hold the same emotional impact as “fell” in a title. I did not want to mislead any reader in the choosing of the title, nor did I want to confuse anyone. (Albeit, I may currently be fulfilling that irony). The action that occurred was a slide, but I did not careen over the edge of a cliff of water. Hmm, I guess that was easy to explain.]
I was just getting over an illness that was either caused by a stomach bug a fellow hiker contracted and passed on to numerous other hikers or caused by the can of corn that I ate a few nights prior. In the defense of the corn, I did find it sitting next to a tree, sealed, and within the expiration date. [Lay off me, I was starving!]
Whatever the cause, I was especially eager to continue my two thousand mile journey on the Appalachian Trail. I was hiking with a man named Michael. We had just left a rather hospitable hostel with a plush-as-f queen bed, in which I slept in one night, and a homemade breakfast every morning, made by the proprietor, that was straight out of Top Chef. As we journeyed on, Michael, my companion, was a few hundred yards behind me on the trail. It was a bright blue day, and I was eager to put on some miles, enjoy nature, and sleep in a cozy hammock.
I came across a sign that read: Jones Falls. For those of you that are close to my dad’s side of the family, you may pick up on the irony of the name. My last name could have been Jones. I don’t think that I picked up on the irony at the time. My head wasn’t fully in the right place. The comfort of a bed and a full belly at the end the day had taken me out of the hiker mindset. I was more in the mindset of a tourist, giddy with the promise of raw nature. With Michael a little ways behind me, I thought it would be a nice detour to see a waterfall. We hadn’t made many detours on the journey so far because of time constraints. So I walked the short trail to the right.
When I arrived at the waterfall, I was at the base. There was a woman sitting down on the rocks near the edge of the running water, looking up. I stared along at the actual waterfall a couple of tiers of elevation up from us. Compared to the waterfalls that I witnessed so far on the trail, which was about 5, this one was by far the best. It was an actual waterfall: thousands of gallons of water falling off a sharp cliff every second. It was beautiful. And the woman wasn’t so bad looking herself.
I said hi. She said hi. We conversed briefly about typical hiker stuff: “Where are you from? Are you a thru-hiker? Section-hiker? Tourist?” It didn’t take long for her to tell me that she was waiting for her boyfriend. [Damn-it.] He was taking pictures on the second tier of the waterfall. Being a photographer hobbyist, that piqued my interest. I wanted a closer shot of the waterfall. With the phone that I had, the picture looked awful with the zoom. And no camera could do the scene justice. The length of the landscape was too far to give any secondary viewer a proper perspective. My fans on Facebook were counting on me, after all.
The woman showed me the path that the rebels created. I had to climb a pile of rocks before even getting to the path. It was difficult but worth it, I thought. I easily climbed the short hill to the second tier of the geological wonder. At the top, the water streamed down on a giant slab of limestone. A giant boulder stood in the middle of the slab like a sleeping giant. The water quickly slowed in comparison and flowed down the remaining rock slab that led back to the woman. Jones Falls is truly one of nature’s hidden beauties, in its symmetrical form and simplicity. It was Zen.
Yet…
One unfortunate feature of this waterfall ladder was that the boulder was blocking the view of the actual waterfall. The boyfriend was occupying one area of the dry limestone slab of the second tier, clicking pictures like a high school senior on spring break. So I looked around and saw another dry patch of rock just a hop and a skip away. And it was right in the middle of the waterfall: the perfect spot for a picture. Unfortunately, there was a wide stream of water between me and my destination.
Second-guessing myself was my first mistake. My instinct was to just hop over the water and land on the safe side. That would have probably worked, but the water was just a little too wide for my comfort. I thought, “Okay, I can probably make the jump. That’s what I always do in situations like this. I am a small and nimble person, which gives me the advantage in these situations. And hide and seek.” But…
I looked down.
Below was a solid slab of dark jagged rock that led to a pile of debris that led to another waterfall that I couldn’t see. It was a mountain; there was only down. I was sure that I did not want to be at the bottom of those rocks. So, I thought, it is best to take it slow and not jump.
Wrong choice.
I took one, tiny, itsy, bitsy, witsy, ditsy, gitsy, zitsy, little step onto the running water.
Slam!
My ass hit those rocks like a slap in the face. There was no going back. The water took me down those rocks like an eighteen-wheeler hydroplaning at seventy miles per hour. What follows is a list of thoughts and verbal affirmations that ran through my mind and escaped my tight lips as I slid down the rock face toward a collection of boulders and the potential of falling over a second waterfall into the unknown forest abyss:
“Fuck!”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck.”
“Fucking-shit.”
“Holy-fuck.”
“I’m going to die.”
“Fuck.”
“No, I’ll be fine but I’m going to be fucked up though.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m going to be in a wheelchair.”
“Shit.”
“I’m going home. This is it. My journey is done. I wonder what my hospital bill is going to be like. I’ve never broken any bones in my life, so this will be interesting.”
I imagined the hospital bed with my arms and legs pinned up in casts like Howard Hughes. I imagined my parents taking turns pushing me around in a wheelchair. I imagined a life the opposite of my own. I won’t be able to bartend again. I won’t be able to serve tables. I won’t be able to write. I’ll just be a piece of other people’s lives, a burden that should have just read the sign.
“No! Think!”
“I don’t want to go over the other side of that waterfall with a pile of branches clogged up. I need to catch myself.”
“Left foot out to brace for impact.”
“Left hand out to catch myself on the rocks.”
“This is going to hurt."
"Thank god I don't have my backpack."
Bang!
I slam into the rocks with my left side and slide down some more, catching my weight with my right foot. Fight the current! Scrabble to claw onto anything! The rock! The dirt! The plants! I position myself on the rocks and fling myself onto land.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” The woman was on her way up to meet her boyfriend. Apparently, while we were up on the second tier he was trying to get my attention. He called out a couple of times between taking pictures before he realized something was wrong. Both of them scrambled down to see if I was okay. Being able to stand, walk, and move my arms, I thought I was doing pretty damn good.
You know that feeling when you get off of an awesome roller coaster for the first time and want to do it again? If you do, then you understand the amount of adrenaline that was coursing through my body at that time. There was pain but it didn’t matter. My ass hurt, my leg hurt, and my hand throbbed in a way that I never experienced before. None of the pain overcame the amount of joy and euphoria that surged through my body and mind. I wanted to talk to everyone. I wanted to talk to my parents, my sisters, my friends, and especially the stranger at McDonald's. I never felt so exhilarated to be alive. Though, the reality of the scene took over.
I scrambled to find my belongings: my wallet, my pen, my knife, my notebook. Everything was stuck in the nooks of the branches and rocks. I snatched everything up as fast as I could. Without my wallet, my phone, my cash, id, and credit cards, I had no way of getting home. I’d nearly lost everything from my pockets, but I only lost my knife.
It was shortly after I composed myself that Michael strolled up the path. The couple moseyed on their way. I told Michael the story and he just shook his head at me. He pointed at the sign that read, “Waterfalls are dangerous! Do not climb out to any part of falls.” With a stupid smile on my face that I couldn’t wipe away, I took a picture next to the sign. The lighting was bad, but I assure you that the fatty tissue under my left thumb was black and very dark purple. I could only walk with one walking stick for a few days after that. When I got into the next town and had a mirror, I discovered that the blotch on my butt was so black and disfigured that I thought I was in the middle of a sci-fi movie. (Picture not provided.)
I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life…
Yup, that's it. That’s all I got. I do dumb things sometimes.
I don’t regret what I did, but I wouldn’t do it again. Somehow, it may have been a wake-up call for my physical ambition in the wild. I was thirty at the time. It seemed to be the perfect reason to start re-thinking choices in my life as I continued on the path. To consider the alternative of not doing exactly what I wanted. Because. There isn’t always going to be rocks at the bottom to break my fall.
Author’s Note #2: Luckily, I am here, writing this story. Some of the daredevils of the world don’t get that opportunity. I’m not a rock climber or stunt jumper. Those people that dare to dance with the world, I commend you. There is a beauty in taking life to the extreme. But there is also a beauty in balancing the extremes of modern life.
Author's Note #3: The risks are worth the reward until the risk receives no reward. That is not to say Don't Dare in life. Dare, but dare with a sound mind.
Image by Aravind kumar from Pixabay
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