Four Hundred Forty-Two Feet

The trail climbs at an easy grade for a while and gives you nothing, and then you come over a rise and the whole waterfall is there, framed up the trail through a canopy that hangs down over the view. That reveal is the reason I keep going back. I’ve been several times now and I always aim to be there when the park opens, partly because the car park is small and fills fast, and partly because the falls sit in shade early and the light stays workable.

Four hundred and forty-two feet is hard to convey in a photograph, and the only thing that carries it here is how thin the water looks against the wall it’s falling down. Getting that much of the drop in the frame is a fight with the vegetation at the edge of the overlook, which is thick and close and wants to be in every composition. I spent most of my time there working out how little of it I could include.

My first visit was in fog and misting rain and I love that version too — it hangs in our bathroom at home. Wind moved the foreground plants through the exposure, so it never made it onto the site. This one is the better photograph and the foggy one is the better memory.