Honestly, there's something about your first time hiking that sticks with you; it's different from hunting or camping. I really got to just sit there and take it all in. I've always been more of a city person to some extent, a shut-in, not to say I grew up in a huge city, but where I’m from, jaw-dropping nature isn’t just a short drive away. And maybe I'm being dramatic, but I'd argue this hike was more than just a walk in the woods; it was a way to make up for what I had felt I had missed out on this whole time.
The thought of trekking through the wilderness—carefully watching my step to avoid plummeting 300 feet into a river—all while being far from the conveniences of modern life felt downright terrifying. I'll be the first to admit I'm about the most uncoordinated guy you'll ever meet; my balance is awful, and I space out staring at the most uninteresting of things. That being said, I swallowed my presumptions about hiking when a group of my friends decided to make an impromptu day trip to Raven Cliff Falls some three hours away that Saturday morning. The time came when I woke up at 6am, put on my shoes, and hopped in my friend's Kia sedan, ready to go. That morning for breakfast I had a peach Red Bull and a can of Vienna sausages I bought from the gas station.
The drive there was honestly more nerve-wracking than anything I had feared about the hike. Turns out, both of my friends are speed demons—one taking tight turns with relative control in his Outback, while the other pushed his brakes to the limit, going around curves 20 miles over the limit, NASCAR style. It felt like the kind of reckless thrill that should have a Lynyrd Skynyrd or Van Halen album playing in the background. Looking over the huge cliffside of the road was gorgeous, trees for miles and miles, plus it was a high enough elevation for ice to form along the rocks.
We arrive at Raven Cliff at almost exactly 3pm; we had some pit stops along the way, cool gas stations with motorcycle memorabilia, and other sightseeing spots. As soon as I got there, I hunted for the biggest stick I could find, my plan being to brave the hike as wizardlike as possible. We trekked along pretty easily for about the first 10 minutes until we reached a stream with nothing but a medium-sized log to balance across like acrobats. Everyone went along pretty easily, but I knew for a fact I'd fall on my butt carrying my stick, so I chucked it and scooted on my butt to ensure maximum safety. I didn't realize how high up the water was when I sat down, so my shoes instantly flooded. The first of many times from that point on.
I'd say things remained relatively uneventful for maybe 30 minutes or so afterwards, at least until it slowly dawned on me that this wasn't just some casual itty-bitty stroll; this was a ruthless climb up a waterfall that only got worse, and guess who came unprepared? Me. The crunch of the leaves under my shoes, tripping over stumps and rolling my ankle countless times on hidden rocks. It got so bad that the people behind us audibly went "OOF!" when I face-planted into the dirt and landed on my arm.
As we approached the final stretch of the hike, about six miles round trip, the scenery became almost surreal. Streams rushed beneath us, keeping me keenly aware of when to cautiously peek around a corner. But at a certain point, you just have to stop and take it all in. The colors were so vivid, it felt like they could only have been crafted by the hands of a master artisan. When we finally reached the waterfall, I abandoned any attempt at gracefully hopping from rock to rock. Instead, I resorted to scrambling on all fours, gripping ledge to ledge. Evolution be damned.
Was it worth it in the end? I think so; with bruised knees and clay-covered pants aside, I really did feel a sense of accomplishment in the end. Standing on the ledge of the cliffside felt meditative to some degree. And as I stood there looking down on everything, I took my nice little commemorative photos and waited for my friends to get theirs before we began our trek down. I think all in all it was an experience I'd go through again. In fact, I think everyone should go on a hike at least once. To go out and spend the day in nature would probably do all of us some good.
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