Cloudland Canyon Waterfalls

I’d half expected the falls to be dry. It’s hardly rained in northwest Georgia this autumn. But nature always delights as she often reminds me. The tiered unnamed falls cascade in a soft veil to join the creek and meander among the fallen leaves. The low water level made for easy scrambling across narrow streams, allowing me to fully explore this beautiful gorge in solitude.

I’d parked at the north end of Sitton’s Gulch Trail in a quiet residential neighborhood instead of the busy Cloudland Canyon State Park lot. It’s a rolling uphill hike from here to the steps above the falls and an easy hike back. It turns out that was a blessing, as I’d lingered at the falls and dusk was quickly approaching as I tried to ignore scores of puffball mushrooms and striking leaves along my way to get to the car before the last of the light, which disappears earlier in the canyon bottoms.

It’s mid-November, and most of the leaves have fallen. Those still in the treetops twirl in the breeze, mimicking the gentle patter of a spring rain. I’m a half-mile from the parking lot when the full aroma of decaying leaves envelopes me and stops me in my tracks. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, savoring the nostalgia and peace of an eastern hardwood forest. My shoulders fall, and I’m instantly relaxed. It brings me back to barefoot summers full of exploration.

A couple of weeks ago, the falls were reportedly dry. Since then, there’s been some rain. And the snow flurries two days ago. I glimpsed a pool of water as I rounded a bend in the trail. What I’d thought was the sounds of rustling leaves was actually the gentle sound of water splashing down the boulder-strewn gulch! I’m elated!

I had an image in my head of the red maples in full color with the motion-blurred water falling behind them. It’s an image I missed on my last trip here, because I didn’t have my tripod. I had to hand-hold a long exposure, and all of the images turned out blurry.

I wanted a do-over, even though I know we can never visit the same river twice. Today, most of the red leaves are on the ground, leaving the ochres and golds aloft to sing the song of the season.

The creek widens as I move up the path; small cascades roll over rocks in miniature torrents. Just before the unnamed falls, the Sitton’s Gulch Creek is only a few feet wide, carrying leaves, eddying in pools, and spilling down the canyon.

I lingered at the base of these falls for an hour, enthralled with the way the water moves and all of the leaf mosaics plastered on the rocks.

Climbing the wooden steps, I crossed the creek on a boardwalk at the lip of the falls. I took the short spur to Hemlock Falls. A viewing platform overlooks the ninety-foot waterfall.

Social trails descend steeply to the base of the falls, an area that would be pooled with water when the creek runs full. Today, it would be a safe scamper down. But. I’m three miles from my car and one-and-a-half hours from sunset. Next time. This canyon keeps calling me.

If you’re interested in purchasing or licensing any images you see here, please email me at SNewenham at exploringnaturephotos.com, and I’ll make it happen.

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