By Guest Blogger Larry Smith, friend of the Fund
My grandfather and I first spotted this waterfall system, looking up through the forest with binoculars from the main valley floor. That was in 1958, and ever since, I would always tell myself, “Go see what’s up there! It’s what Gramps would do.” So, on a sunny day in June, I finally fulfilled the desire and curiosity I had in my head all those years.
This cliff system falls off the Quaternary sliced-out benchland glacial cuts, about 300 feet off the river bottom. This image is taken about 2/3 of the way down from the top of the glacial cliff band from a good ledge.
My objective was to get to the top and rappel down – with jumars for ascending the rope if needed – until I found the ledge.
So, I started about 1/4 mile away from this cliff band and then took a diagonal shot up the steep hillside to approach the top. I saw the ledge below, and it was a clear shot, so I felt good about it. I don’t really like to rappel, as I don’t like the chance of equipment failure; the key is to always triple-check, and then check again, your harness and rope system, giving a good, long stare to the bends in the rope and the overall system. At that point it’s as safe as anything else. In my case here, I even ‘practiced’ off to the side a couple of times, just making sure.
This handy ledge, about 70 feet from the lip of the falls, was the only possible place to set up the cameras safely in this star-struck misty environment.
I brought my old Yashica Mat camera, along with a larger bellows camera setup, and I also brought kipper snacks, crackers, coffee, stove and book. I intended to stay a while.
The sound from this ledge was surprising. I expected a roar but it was really only a strong hissing sound punctuated by random splashes of larger gobs of water. The overall crisp sound of the water, the sun starting to burn through the fog, and the cool wind generated by the falling water, combined to give a sparkle to this enchanted vertical piece of almost tropical looking scenery.
I was startled by a mature Water Ouzel [American Dipper] and her two babies performing high speed dives – everyone’s wings tucked and dropping head first vertically into the void, twice – during the six hours I hung around on the ledge. And if that wasn’t enough entertainment, they seemed to rise up out of the valley just as quickly as their descent – chattering all the way.
Larry Smith is an outdoor photographer living in Washington State. All photos included in this post are his. You can view more of his photos online. Check back in tomorrow to hear more from Larry as he shares some of his favorite adventures hiking in the Olympics.