outdoors: ‘Attacking’ the falls

TRI-LAKES AREA — Growing up in Arkansas, there are certain things I take for granted.

Like the sound of cicadas on a hot summer night, the smell of fog hovering over a pristine lake (yes, I said smell) and the sense of profound peace one feels when walking through an autumn wonderland of color.

While there are countless places across the Natural State where natives and visitors alike can get re-acquainted with the beauty of God’s creation, there’s one place that my family has always returned when we need a good outdoors fix: Petit Jean Mountain.

Growing up, we camped on Petit Jean a number of times and would often go up for a day just to hike and take in the sights of the mountain and the river valley in all their splendor. My three brothers and I especially enjoyed going to Cedar Falls, the large waterfall that cascades nearly 100 feet into a canyon. The moderately challenging hike into the canyon was always filled with tales from my father about when he used to hike the same route with his parents when he was a kid. We always liked hearing about how he once tried to climb one side of the canyon walls, only to discover after about 50 feet of climbing that he could go no higher and had also forgotten how to get down.

We never tried to repeat our father’s feat, though I’m pretty sure it crossed the mind of my brother Will.

Needing a good nature fix, my wife, Beka, and I headed up to Petit Jean with my brother Jacob and his wife, Leighann. We stayed in the cabin my parents bought a number of years ago. It’s been a haven of rest for our family and has been used countless times for weekend getaways. We spent the night Friday and awoke Saturday ready to descend into the canyon to see Cedar Falls.

Beka had seen it before from the lookout point that is a mile or so away from the trail, but she had never seen it up close. Plus, with all the rainwe’ve had this fall, I figured the falls would be a more impressive sight than I had seen in any of our previous trips. I remember going once during a summer drought when the falls were a glorified trickle that, if not for the slippery rocks, you could easily stand under without any fear of being moved by the force of the water.

We drove the short distance from our cabin to Mather Lodge, which marks the beginning of the trail. Apparently a lot of other people had the same idea we did: wet weather equals great sights at the falls. The parking lot was packed. I started preparing mentally for a crowded hike, but as we got close to the lodge, the smell of smoked bacon assured me that not everyone was in a rush to climb down into the canyon. Had we not had a hearty breakfast before embarking, that smell would have probably detoured ourhike as well.

On the way down, Jake and I recalled some of our previous visits and grumbled about how the hike was a lot less tiring 10 and 15 years ago.

I noticed the beautiful stream of water that ran alongside the trail on the way to bottom of the canyon. I didn’t remember it being there before, or if it was, it hadn’t left much of an impression. This sign of extraneous H20 only increased my excitement about seeing the falls.

There were several spots where the trail, inundated with water, had to be navigated carefully lest we became a muddy mess from the ankles down, but the sights were spectacular. The stream that runs away from the falls looked like something Jake and I had grown accustomed to seeing during our two-year stay in Colorado in high school.

I couldn’t remember quite how far the falls were once we reached the bottom of the canyon, but I was enjoying the views of the stream and the canyon walls so much that I didn’t mind taking my time.

Then all of a sudden, we were there. And my excitement had not been in vain.

Water gushed off the cliff and violently exploded into thebasin below. A small crowd of people had positioned themselves in various places at the back of the pool to best take in the view. We all stood there for a few minutes, 20 to 30 strangers, almost completely quiet (except the massive roar of the falls, of course).

After snapping back to reality about 10 minutes later, Beka and Leighann found a good rock to sit on, and they chatted as they took in the spectacle. Jake and I, on the other hand, instantly turned into 10-year-olds again.

“Hey, if I go around to the other side, could you get my picture next to the falls?” Jake asked.

Getting near the falls beyond the marked trail is doable, but the closer you get, the more slick the rocks are and the more risk there is of either falling and breaking something or falling and swimming your way back to the trail.

So of course I said, “Sure.”

I crept around to the left of the falls while Jake went to the right. Got some great pictures I couldn’t have gotten from the trail, and Jake proceeded to pretend to attack the waterfall with a large stick he’d found.

Our wives just shook their heads and mumbled something that sounded like the words “men” and “immaturity,” but I wasn’t really listening. Silly girls, they just don’t get it. And I was pretty sure at the time that they had cooties.

After Jake and I had satisfied our childhood instincts to experience the falls in ever y relatively safe way we could, we burned off the rest of our juvenile energy by hopping from rock to rock in the stream that leads away from the falls.

Sounds innocent enough, but some of these rocks extend 8 feet above the water, and some of the jumps we made were about 6 feet or more (horizontally). Not the smartest thing we’ve ever done, but it’ll make for a great story the next time we go back. And shoot, it’s a lot smarter than trying to climb up the canyonwall. Perhaps our sense of adventure is waning with each generation. I’ll have to ask my grandfather if he ever tried to dive into the pool from the top of the falls.

We made it out of the canyon and back to the car before it sunk in that making that climb and hopping around on rocks like mountain goats is much easier to do when you’re 10 instead of when you’re in your late 20s.

But the soreness was worth it.

Looking at Petit Jean State Park’s Web site (www.petitjeanstatepark.com) after our trip, I realized just how full the waterfall was that day. Each photo of the falls on the site shows it at normal force. Seems like there was at least three times that much water pouring over the falls on Oct. 17.

I’m glad that Beka and I now have our own memories of Cedar Falls that we can share with our kids some day. We have girls, so maybe we won’t have to worry about them trying to climb the canyon walls or attacking the waterfall with large sticks.

- jlemaster@arkansasonline.com

Tri-Lakes, Pages 145 on 11/01/2009

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