Grouse Creek Falls

My thigh muscles are sore. It wasn’t the hiking or climbing, but the confrontation of fears,  and a persistent gripping, using my leg muscles to anchor me as I moved through my fear of falling on loose footing and high places.I tried to come here two weeks ago (April Fool’s Day ironically). After driving up the potholed, washboarded, winding mountain road, I encountered deep, soft, slushy, slippery snow on the road just one mile from the trailhead. I stopped and got out. I could see bare ground thirty feet downhill as the road curved out of sight. If this were all the snow there was, I could probably make it. But if the road goes up again, there will be more snow. Except. I’m not sure I could make it back up this slippery, slushy section of snow. Driving forward a few yards into the snow, I stopped and reconsidered. I am far from help if I get stuck. It was best to try another day, so I backed up easily and returned the way I came. 

Today, I am at the Grouse Creek Falls trailhead, and all the snow on the road is gone. The parking lot is empty except for swarms of California Tortoiseshell butterflies.

A large patch of snow next to the trail on this sunny 65° day is everything that is spring in the mountains. I pass a marshy patch of bright skunk cabbage before the trail starts to rise. At a fork, I’m not sure which is the official trail. The path to my right looks like an unapproved overlook, so I proceed straight up through the woods on a narrow footpath that drops off steeply to the river below.

I’m tense. The trail drops sharply to a rock outcropping, providing a view above the waterfall. I clambered down, scooting over the steeper sections. I won’t go all the way to the end where the ledge is narrow and exposed on three sides. I sat down, reached my camera out above the overlook to grab a photo, and bravely retraced my steps to that fork.

I turn toward the river. There are root “steps” where sturdy pines have held the earth in place. They also provide some nice handholds as I once again scramble and scoot down the trail. This is the view!

I walk out on a wide, flat, earthen platform and gawk at the beauty of the turquoise and white rushing river before me. The comfort, ease, and awe buoy my courage. I climb down the trail a little further to the rocks along the water’s edge. 

Every individual drop of water seems to take a different path, uniquely spilling over rocks and swirling through eddies. Yet, together, they all take the same path.

After sitting for a while, noticing all of the small falls tumbling down the mountain on the far side of the river, and appreciating this solitary setting, I began the trek back. Climbing up is psychologically easier. If I fall going up, I just fall. If I fall going down, I slide.

There’s a sidetrail to the left halfway back up to the fork. Feeling my confidence build, I turn left and hug the mossy wall as I shuffle down the narrow trail to another viewpoint. The falls are partially obscured from here. No matter, the landscape is stunning.Back at the fork, I encounter two hikers with a dog pondering which is the main trail. I’m glowing with enthusiasm as I direct them to the viewpoint and head back to my car. At a relatively flat one and a third miles, it’s a short, dramatic hike. It was just what I needed today. Nature is good that way.

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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