In an attempt to beat the heat this summer, several of my recent hiking trips have been geared for an eventual dip in the water once reaching the destination. In the last few years alone it seems that the popularity of hiking has exploded. Personally, I blame the internet and more specifically social media. This summer I've seen it with my own eyes, from the Snapchatters to the Instagrammers, they're out in full force.

A warning or invitation, all a matter of interpretation.

With the added company on the trails have come an increased body count as well, including a several weekend streak of news of rescue crews fishing a carcass out of a pool for someone that either got to close to the edge of the falls or underestimated the power of currents. Tragic nonetheless but very preventable, and again I feel social media is to blame. The accepted norms and maintained trails have fell into the category of not enough risk or everyone has been there already.

If I remember correctly, there are around 80 steps that lead to the observation deck for Whitewater Falls.

My trail behavior has somewhat evolved in recent years and now that once in a lifetime shot doesn't have as much meaning after seeing the last in the lifetime attempts at those shots. I like living and adventuring as much as the next person but I like to come home that evening even more. With all this being said, I suspect you will think I'll launch into a "but let me tell you about this one time" story..well, yes and no.

Somewhere below the tree line would be our destination. The 411ft high Whitewater Falls is a sight to behold!

Not only have I tried to beat the heat but also maintain the best of the outdoors experience as I can with the least amount of company. The challenge of these type of hikes has been taxing to say the least but occasionally I get lucky.

Chicken of the Woods. This was so orange we spotted it from a few switchbacks away.

Difficulty alone will exclude the masses and nestled on the North Carolina and South Carolina border is a 14 mile river named the Whitewater. I can't think of a more appropriately named body of water since it barrels through slot canyons and over waterfalls on its way to meet Lake Jocassee in South Carolina. By far, the most popular destination on the river is Upper Whitewater Falls, a 411ft behemoth that is typically viewed from a observation deck on the side of the gorge.  The view from there is a good one and many people shell out the parking fee for a glimpse of the highly photogenic falls, including me, on several occasions, with each time a wandering eye to the point the waterfall is obscured by trees near it's base. An unwavering desire to make the hike to the base has lingered and a few weeks ago, I scratched it from the list....this is that story.

I think she was excited. Beyond the observation deck narrow stairs continue to lower you into the gorge.

I'm not kidding around when I say these steps were narrow.

On a 95 degree day and a late start by my normal departure standards I loaded up and met my friend Jessica for the trip down to North Carolina and the Whitewater base expedition. I first met Jessica back in March on a chilly day on Little Stony and since then she has proved her obsession with the outdoors may outweigh my own. Group hikes for JDRF and adventures in the Northeast Tennessee mountains led me to believe she was ready for some true adventure in the North Carolina Mountains. The drive down is a long one at over two hours but conversations about hiking can pass any amount of time or distance. A short stop at the gas station on 281 for some snacks and a bathroom break it was only a few minutes before we were arriving at the packed trail head for Whitewater Falls.

A metal bridge spanning the whitewater river is an excellent place to rest before taking on the off trail portion of the hike. This was actually taken after we hiked back from the base but for story telling purposes, it works here.

Knowing that we would succeed I had stuck a float in my pack taking the majority of the room and after some readjusting we were able to sneak the pump for it into Jessica's pack. The Instagram crowd was there in full force with flip flops on and cell phones at their ready, included in the mix was a gang of around 20 motorcycle riders that were intent on a group photo on the observation deck. Jessica and I received some strange looks as we both worked with our full packs and fetched our hiking sticks from the truck, but we didn't care, we were there for adventure. We only made it a few feet from the truck when the first crack of thunder startled the crowds but we continued on determined to see the base.

Beautifully carved rock on the river. The rain began to fall making for some fun scrambling.

Small waterfall below the main attraction.

And another nice waterfall. I really wish you could tell how large these boulders were!

At the edge of the gorge there stands a warning sign, and again at the observation deck stating that there are no waterfall views beyond the deck. Jessica was excited to see the falls for the first time and crowded her way over to the railing in silent awe, finally I had to nudge her, "you ready to go to the base?" The sign alone perhaps deters a few people but Jessica and I would encounter several other hikers on our way below the deck via the Foothills Trail where it crosses the river downstream from the falls. Along the way we stopped to photograph mushrooms, narrow staircases, and blooming mountain laurel. Thunder continued to threaten us increasing in intensity until a light rain began to fall as we were within earshot of the river.

Jessica along a nice slab of rock next to the river.

More rocks along the river. There was a tricky passage near this spot. Thankful for long legs here for sure.

Hiking sticks do no good on the Whitewater River.

We arrived at the river as a steady rain quickly soaked the rocks and made my rock hopping plan a river wading option. It was obvious that many people had made the trek upstream by the scramble paths that lined both sides of the river but Jessica and I started upstream by wading around a wide variety of shaped and sized boulders. In only a few feet in saw another pair of hikers marching upstream on the bank. We continued to stay in the water until we were cut off by a rock wall and a waterfall around 15ft or so. I made my way over to a small island the river and thankfully noticed a Yellow Jackets nest before suffering the consequences. Seeking shelter from the rain, the other hikers were having snacks under a cliff and I stopped to talk to them for a minute. They both were friendly and said they planned on getting to the base as well. Jessica and I lost sight of them after some technical rock scrambling and one narrow ledge we used to escape another waterfall we would struggle to get around. I was impressed with Jessica's determination and she led us upstream on a pace that was hard for me to match. I knew she was excited to get there but she didn't have to run!

But there are some serious rewards on the horizon.

Getting close now. The mighty Whitewater Falls is surreal from the base.

This picture is pretty neat. There is one of the largest waterfalls I've ever seen in my life right in front of me but she stops to take a picture of a wildflower.

The first glimpse of the base of Whitewater Falls came as I popped onto the top of a boulder where Jessica exclaimed, "would you look at that!" The entirity of the 411ft falls could not be seen but the bulk of it was in view and we were still about 100 yards downstream. Both of us stood in a trance before reaching for our cameras for a few shots until we were in a race to reach the swimming hole on the far right side of the falls. I honestly don't remember which of us reached the pool first but I know that I was quick to unpack my float and demand Jessica fetch my pump. I went to work pumping up the float while she unpacked our snacks. Our privacy was short lived when the young couple from South Carolina finally caught up just as I was finishing with the float. They were quite a bit younger than us but were very friendly and the four of us shared the joy of being at the base of such a huge waterfall. They had traveled about the same distance as us to be there and I waited for them to take their pictures before I decided it was time to launch my float. One problem though, my float was now missing.

A wonderful swimming hole. Time to get busy!

There goes my float!

Finally afloat!

Paddling across the deep pool was Jessica atop the missing float and she explored every corner of the area knowing I was waiting for my turn. She finally returned with a sneaky grin saying, "oh, were you wanting this?" When I finally got in the pool the water was cool but refreshing and I paddled across to the brink of the falls. Sometimes we let specific moments fade from our memories but riding a float at the base of Whitewater Falls will last with me for a long time. I lost track of time and the rain had faded as the sun popped out making our swimming hole even more inviting. I rejoined Jessica long enough to enjoy some summer sausage and cheese and saying goodbye to the South Carolina kids as they packed up and headed out. Jessica went into full explorer mode and crossed the river climbing high on a boulder above a long cascade while I continued to play on the float before crossing over myself to see the falls from even more angles. Jessica seemed tiny up on the rock face and I settled for working my way downstream to include as much of the waterfall as I could in the picture. It took some convincing but I finally got her to come back down so we could pack up for the hike out.

I was like a kid in a candy store. Floating here was definitely worth the effort to pack my float up that river bed.

Whitewater Falls Base Selfie.

I was feeling the pinch while trying to enjoy my float.

Downstream from the base.

Being there was incredible but I knew that getting back out would be a challenge. Luckily the sun had gave us the ultimate assist in drying many of the rocks for our return trip and when we made excellent timing taking a slightly different route. At one of the trickier rocks I used Jessica as an anchor and I hoisted up on the rock belly first thanks to her help, I'm sure she won't let me live it down. We exited the river to hike along an impressive cliff before bushwhacking back out near the water's edge at the bridge across the river.

From my float trip across the pool.

Here's some perspective. Jessica on the side of the waterfall.

AND her view back to me by the swimming hole. Whitewater Falls is fantastic!

Napping on the river.

We both were tired and climbed up on the bridge for a short break before climbing out of the gorge. The climb up was easier than I had thought it would be and we arrived back at the observation deck with tired legs and soaked clothes with sweat. We took a few pictures before climbing the remaining steps to finally reached the paved downhill path to the parking area. Thankfully Jessica had thought to bring some wet wipes and we cleaned up on the tailgate as onlookers wondered where we had been to get so dirty. Just as we finished cleaning up enough to get in the truck another storm blew into the gorge with a torrential downpour sending everyone scrambling for shelter while we laughed it up from the safety of the truck.

Hiking back was no picnic.

Infinity pool on the Whitewater River.

UP and UP. Heading home just ahead of another storm.

It's hard to put a finish on such a nice hike, even now, weeks later. Whitewater Falls is such an impressive place but given a fresh perspective it seems otherworldly. On a daily basis I'm asked how tall I am, but to stand at the base of that waterfall, I'm merely an ant, and man, that's a great feeling. Until next time, happy trails.

Each summer Amber takes her only vacation and since I take several throughout the year, I let her take care of the planning and destination for the week. In the past few years, we have joined other couples on vacation and the last two have been with our friends, Kip and Misty. Kip and I have shared some memorable hikes including a day lost in the Thompson River Gorge while Misty joins me only sparingly in the outdoors, much like Amber.

Early on the trip, you can see the limbs hang out over the river a long way in places. We would meet several of these limbs the hard way.

So it came as quite the surprise when through the initial planning phase of this year's trip mention was made of a canoe trip on the Edisto River and further concern was felt when I found out it would be 23 miles with an overnight stay in a tree house. Nonetheless, I felt comfortable enough in my outdoor prowess to just nod my head in agreement when Amber would levy questions as days clicked away toward our date with the river. As fate and Facebook would have it, not even a week away from the trip I found a link shared by a friend detailing a young girls plight after contracting the deadly brain eating amoeba, in the Edisto River. The price tag alone on a chance at treating the amoeba was listed at a staggering  $48,000 for one dose. I decided to do a little further research on the river and the next article was two hunters snagging a 12ft gator along with the next few articles being that of trophy gators pulled from the longest black water river in America. Amber freaks out if a ladybug gets in the house so I started thinking about what misery I was truly signing up for.

Despite crashing into a bridge a few feet into the trip, I felt confident enough to take this selfie.

The first day of vacation was spent traveling and coincided with Amber and I's five year wedding anniversary. Misty had booked the hotel for the evening and we arrived to find it sandwiched between the interstate and a bar attached to a Waffle House named Skynyrd's. Although named Comfort Inn, it did little to comfort me with what lied ahead and an AC unit that kept our room around 80 degrees for the evening.  The town of St. George had limited dining choices and we decided to live large after stopping by Bi-Lo to get the food needed for the trip, and try out Skynyrd's. It's one of the few bars left in America that you can still openly smoke in and the place was completely packed with the exception of two tables located in front of the stage. We settled into one of the empty booths and I watched as an elderly man worked frantically running wire and cable for what appeared to be karaoke. Surprisingly, the service and food was great and after a few beverages I started to enjoy the place. Some brave locals took turns belting out different songs with not a single bust before we finally retreated back to the room for the night.

The night before the canoe trip was just as treacherous. Hanging out at Skynyrd's.

The next morning we awoke to clear skies and warm temperatures early on. We ate at the hotel breakfast bar and snuck a few snacks for our dry bags for the trip down river. Leaving the city, we drove through the South Carolina country side for thirty minutes or so before pulling off an overgrown dirt road at Heritage Outfitters just across the highway 21 bridge over the Edisto River. The dirt road doubled back approaching the rivers edge and some wooden shacks, trailers, and a camper. The parking area on either side of the road was lined with cars and tall weeds between them. The place had the feel of somewhere that had been abandoned or the beginning of 80% of every scary movie. Amber and Misty managed to alert someone to our presence and an elderly woman greeted us quickly stating her and her husband were filling in for the owners who were away for the weekend, yet another red flag.

The USS Kern takes the lead. Look at the speed coming from that canoe!

The husband emerged from behind the shed greeting us saying the canoes were already loaded up and to go ahead and sign the waivers and pick out our life jackets. I kept staring at the canoes and asked if they would float me and the old man reassured me by saying sometimes they hold three people and gear "so they probably should." My life jacket was large sized but fit like a sports bra and smelled like it had been left in a litter box. I would soon discover the pleasant smell was the river itself. The older man had us gather before loading into the van for some final instructions. He took a stick and drew a curvy line in the sand and said, "Alright, the river is curvy so keep the canoes to the inside of the curve so you won't get hung up on the junk that hangs in the outer edges of curves. Now let's cover a list of everything that can kill you."

Over the next few minutes I discovered my concern for the brain eating amoeba and alligators were just the highlights of a long list of predators including water moccasins, copperheads, rattlesnakes, and something known as a red wasp that has an aggressive nature, "but if you hold your breath for about 10 minutes under water they will fly away," the older man said with a laugh. He gave us some pointers on basic canoe control before loading us all in the van for the nearly hour commute to the drop off point further up river. To pass the time, they decided to tell rescue stories of canoers past and how one girl had to walk to a road flag down a car and borrow dry clothes after losing her and her fiances possessions to the river in December. I tried to relax as much as possible knowing the air conditioning would be the last luxury I would have until Monday, but on the inside I was a ball of nerves.

Arriving at the drop off point near the highway 15 bridge the facilities weren't much better. A run down picnic shed was our staging area and the older man went to work unloading the canoes while we carried our gear to the river. We had packed two totes loaded with dry clothes and other needs for the stay. A smaller cooler contained all of our food for the nights meal to be cooked at the tree house and a larger cooler contained all of our drinks for the trip. Once we finished Kip and I brought the two canoes to the water's edge to await our final instruction. The old man looked at us somewhat perplexed and pointed downstream and said, "it's 13 miles that way," as he walked back up the bank to leave.

The most nerve wracking part for me was if I could even get in the canoe without turning it over. A tiny black butt shaped plastic seat with no back would be my perch for the journey and I positioned the canoe with the front ready for the launch at the water. We decided that we needed the majority of the weight so we took the food cooler, the heaviest tote, and Amber loading them in the front to offset my weight at the rear of the canoe. I carefully shoved Amber in before wading into the water and settling into my seat at the rear. A final push from Kip and we were afloat. It wasn't a beautiful thing with the canoe still tipping high on the front and my end low to the water, but we weren't going to sink! Kip and Misty were quick to the water with their canoe and joined us on the first of our thirteen miles for the day.

Only a few strokes in we had to go under the highway 15 bridge and Amber and I promptly steered straight into the concrete pillar bouncing off and rocking wildly heading downstream. Kip and Misty got a good laugh out of it and passed us up and would remain in the lead most of the day. The river opened up and was calm and wide and Amber and I worked together with our paddling techniques to see what worked best. Having never been in any kind of self propelled boat, it was a challenge and riding in the rear, I was responsible for steering. We practiced very briefly because the river soon narrowed and the first of many obstacles began to show up downstream. At times, we avoided the fallen trees and sometimes we bounced off of them but we were able to maintain our balance well enough to stay upright. The heat was the biggest factor and the sun beat down on us without a cloud in the sky. I had just applied my first round of sunscreen when I heard Misty grumbling up ahead, she had forgot their sunscreen so we were left with one spray bottle to last the entire trip! Amber tans very easily and purchased SPF30 so I was having to apply more frequently and could tell the bottle would be hard pressed to make it 13 miles.

Misty and Kip kept a healthy lead as we weaved around and under obstacles. I was just getting comfortable with maintaining my balance when Misty and Kip slowed approaching a low hanging limb. Misty was in the front of their canoe and broke one of the only rules the old man had told us about trying to push off an obstacle as she reached up grabbing the branch and promptly back-flipping into the river. The balance of the canoe was off so Kip was launched into the river as well and Amber and I looked on helplessly as their canoe completely overturned sending all the supplies into the water. Amber kind of went into shock paddling wildly and I managed to back us into the shore near an eroded boat ramp. Kip joined us and I told him to take my spot in the canoe with Amber and head off the overturned canoe floating down river. I jumped into the water and found that it was over my head but my life jacket allowed me to float and I made my way over to retrieve paddles and Misty before snagging the overturned canoe. I swam over to the old boat ramp and pushed the canoe as far up on the shore as I could before attempting to turn it over. The weight of the water in it made it a challenge but we got it turned over but not before sending some more of our supplies floating into the river. Amber and Kip retrieved them and we found that their dry bag had kept their phones and keys safe. Misty was injured early on bashing her leg on a slab of broken concrete under the water but other than that we were ok. I think all of us were a little rattled but we reloaded and started back down the river, only losing about twenty minutes. Looking back on it now, it seemed like we only went maybe half a mile before our next disaster awaited us.

Taking some back medicine after crash two on the Edisto River. This may be my favorite picture from the trip. The river looks so peaceful but it thrashed us.

As I mentioned earlier, The Edisto River is a black water river and anything below the surface more than a few inches is practically invisible. With sandy banks, erosion is a huge problem and any trees along the banks often end up in the river. Amber and I were cruising along when suddenly the back of our canoe caught one of the trees below the surface launching me headfirst into the water. When I resurfaced I saw Amber bobbing alongside me and our canoe had thankfully stayed upright but had took on some water. The stretch of river wasn't very deep and I was quick to my feet and grabbed the canoe unleashing a string of obscenitities. Misty, Kip, and Amber were on the opposite shore laughing at me as I slugged across to join them feeling defeated. Kip was beaming as he said, "there's the face from 605 I remember!" I told them that if I crashed that canoe one more time that I was calling someone to come get me. My back was already hurting and I smelled awful from my two swims so far. We took a few minutes to regroup and drain the water from the canoe before heading back into the river. I had kept an eye open for mile markers painted on bird houses along the route but had yet to spot the first one. When we took a break about an hour later on a sandy spot along the shore, Kip said he had seen mile marker 100 just a bit earlier. We had only made it a few miles into the trip and still had nine miles of river to travel before the tree house. Back on the river, Amber and I worked out an agreement that she would paddle the straight stretches to give us speed and I would steer the curves while she rested so we were less likely to hit anything at full tilt. Our plan actually worked pretty well and despite losing sight of Misty and Kip for long stretches I was starting to unwind a bit. In the distance however, I could hear random gun shots and wondered what or maybe even who they were shooting at. A long metal dock protruded over the river high above us and Amber said she wouldn't want to walk on it about the time I spotted a teenager sitting on it. He and his buddy proceeded to taunt us saying, "you better paddle, and what are you looking at?" and began to shoot into the water after we rounded the next turn. If I had not been so concerned with keeping up with Misty and Kip, I would have loved to have had a word with them. When we caught up to Misty and Kip she told us they were dumping buckets of what looked like fish guts and we thought they could have been luring in gators to shoot at. All it did for me was encourage me to stay in my boat for the rest of the trip.

Thank God! Dry land at last!

Several uneventful hours passed on the water aside from the occasional scrape along a tree branch or jumping a log submerged below the surface but Amber and I stayed dry. I could tell my legs were already burning despite my liberal application of sunscreen and my back continued to ache. The river narrowed in spots and speed was easily found in small rapids and we even spotted a few mile markers along the way. Turtles were on nearly every log and Amber and I looked forward to seeing them trying to get close before they would slide into the water. Things were looking up for us and some of the debris that clogged the early going was now nowhere to be found and we both rested at times letting the water carry us downstream. It had been about an hour since we had seen Kip or Misty but we hadn't found any sign of a crash either so we weren't overly concerned. I had an over the shoulder sling 1.5 liter bottle of water and realized I was running low and hadn't been drinking as often as I should in the heat and suddenly my hand cramped up so bad I couldn't hold the paddle. I told Amber something had happened to me and she said it was from dehydration and I drank one of the bottle waters laying in the bottom of the canoe. I used my opposite hand to take my disfigured left hand and wrap it back around the paddle after a few minutes the cramping stopped and I spotted the yellow paddle nailed to the tree signifying we were entering the wildlife refuge. In only a few minutes we passed a small side stream that cut the tree house island off from the mainland and passed the first small tree house. I slowed my paddling as Amber and I looked carefully where to come ashore at the next tree house. I could hear Misty guiding us in and our landing area was kind of deep but we steered the canoe as close to the shore as we could before I bailed out to drag us up on the island.

The 13 miles took it out of me and Amber.

I was so exhausted I shed my life jacket and collapsed on top of a picnic table underneath the tree house on a small deck. Amber joined me and after a few minutes we all started to explore the area we would call home for the night. The tree house was nice with a small grill for cooking and a stove for heating water, there was a loft with mattresses, a futon, and table and chairs. There was no electricity however and it was so hot I decided I would sleep in my hammock in some trees nearby. I unpacked my hammock and strung it up between two sturdy trees and sat there soaking up the breeze from my swinging. Kip and Amber tied off their hammocks close by and we all relaxed for a bit while Misty used the rope hammock tied near the tree house to cool off. I almost drifted off to sleep when I heard a commotion thinking Misty had fell out but instead a large piece of tree limb had broke off from above her and almost smashed her where she laid. I was beginning to wonder how much more would happen before our luck would run out completely.

Kip blends in his new Hangar hammock...locally made in Johnson City, TN.

Right before Misty was almost crushed by a falling tree limb.

Amber napping before dinner.

Luckily we had managed to keep our food dry and Kip settled in to preparing our dinner for the evening while Misty, Amber, and I explorer the island. The other tree houses weren't booked for the night so we were able to go in and check them out as well. The little island was neat with bridges and nice walking paths connecting the three houses. When we arrived back at our camp, dinner was in full swing and smelling delicious. I retreated to my hammock while everyone else hung on the deck. Again I had almost fell asleep when Misty said she saw a panther through the woods. I flopped around in my hammock trying to get to my feet and found her panther to be a mangy black cat with a missing piece of ear. The poor thing was a bag of bones and meowed every other breath, I couldn't believe it was even alive on an island so far from civilization. We named the cat Ed in honor of the Edisto River and he stayed with us for the evening maybe anticipating dinner even more than me. Despite all our blunders and mishaps, dinner was stellar. Kip prepared us chicken with asparagus, potatoes, and corn on the cob. The food was so good we had very little conversation as we ate and Ed happily munched on chicken beneath our picnic table. After dinner we eagerly awaited sunset hoping it would cool us off as temperatures still hovered around 94 degrees. As the last light of the day faded, we gathered to play UNO by lamp light and enjoyed several rounds before heading to the hammocks for the night. Somehow Kip managed to take his hammock down and join Misty in the tree house leaving Amber and I alone in ours for the night. To her credit, Amber was going to tough it out because she knew I always wanted to hammock camp. I could tell she was scared but we talked to each other until I had an idea. It was still 90 degrees at 10pm and I pretty much knew sleep would be impossible no matter where I was at so I asked if she would like to walk up to the next tree house and sleep for the night. She agreed and we grabbed our gear and moved into the tallest of the tree houses. Once inside I stripped down completely only wearing a head lamp and helped Amber adjust the futon into a bed. We laid there in the dark talking about what a crazy day it has been as my feet hung off one end of the futon and my head off the other. The first day of year six of marriage would definitely be an unforgettable one!

Exploring the island before dinner.

Our tree house along the river.

Surprisingly, I actually slept a few hours and when I did wake seeing Amber there sleeping peacefully made me feel better as well. By 7am we both were up and made our way back over to the main camp to get an early start on the heat and the 10 miles we had ahead of us that morning. My legs were burned pretty good but I had already decided I would cover them with towels on the ride down river and would wear a long sleeve shirt to protect my arms. I laughed as we packed up our totes at the pair of wool knee socks I had brought in case I got cold!

Kip prepares dinner.

Ed the river cat. We will never forget him.

Ed the cat lounged on the deck and watched us as we loaded the canoes. Each of us took turns using the outhouse with Amber being the unlucky last to go. Again Amber and I were first in the water and we steered our canoe with ease..straight across the river and into the opposite bank! Kip and Misty were right behind us as Ed meowed to us from the shore. Once we recovered from our steering mishap it was smooth sailing on day two and frankly, I found myself enjoying canoeing. Amber and I had mastered turning and we negotiated some tricky downfall without incident. As we continued down river the sound of Interstate 95 grew louder and I knew that we would only have around an hour left once we passed under it. When it came into sight, I'll admit I was more than a little excited.

Dinner time! The potatoes were cooked in grilling bags and soaked in Italian dressing.

Inside the tree house.

Just past the bridge we took our last break on the Edisto River at a sand bar allowing for bathroom breaks and stretching. The ease in which I docked the canoe brought a certain level of pride and everyone seemed to be in great spirits. The final hour of trip we spent side by side with Misty and Kip telling stories and laughing about our vacation planning. We arrived back at the Outfitters to find no one there and I took the liberty of showering off with a water hose by the shed. We tossed our totes in the cars and cranked the air conditioners wide open as we set off for fast food and a beach house.

Sunset over the river.

Amber toughing it out.

Looking back on my first (and perhaps last) canoe trip has been a blast. Although I was nervous, uncomfortable, in pain, and downright scared at times, it was a great life experience. Having my friends along for the trip made it even better and seeing Amber step out of her comfort zone because she thought it would be something I would enjoy makes me realize how much she loves me or maybe she just knows that my insurance policy information is up to date. Regardless, until next time, happy trails.

The morning after. I was tired but happy.

After a relaxing week of vacation, I wanted to end it with a quality hike before the dread of returning to work fully settled in. My last day of vacation also happened to be Father's Day and since my own dad is still on the mend from knee replacement, I chose to hike with the next best dad I know, Steve.

The kiosk at the trail head entering the Green River Game Lands.

Steve and I have shared many great trail memories and with the recent release of Kevin Adam's updated North Carolina Waterfalls book, I had plenty of ideas of where to go. As much as I tried to get Steve to chose the days direction he left the final decision to me and my heart settled on the tiny town of Saluda, North Carolina.

A deer enjoying the morning sunshine.

Saluda is home to many great waterfalls from the pay-to-play Pearson Falls, the mighty Big Bradley Falls, and the more obscure Pacolet Falls...that's right, I know about it too...anyway, our course would almost certainly guarantee we would be the only people on the trail that day.

After a mile, we reached the old barn and our left turn toward Little Cove Creek.

Facebook is a great tool if you know how to tune out the bad and pay attention to the good, and one good thing to come my way lately is the friendship of Andy Kunkle. Andy shares my passion for waterfalling and has the distinct honor of discovering some waterfalls with one even bearing his nickname, Fungi Falls. He also happened to notice on topographic maps Little Cove Creek followed a similar course to the creek that is home to Big Bradley Falls. In other words, thar's waterfalls in them thar hills.

Stinging weed dominated the creek banks. 

Indian Pipes  popping out of the forest floor.

Steve picked me up early that morning and even gave me a break from driving duty allowing me to enjoy the scenery and settle into story telling. Our laughter and stories made the hour and a half trip a short one. Before we knew it, we approached the Saluda exit and the "curviest paved road in North Carolina" to reach the Green River Game Lands for the start of our hike. It was a hot morning and crowds of people were gathering at the tube rental places along the river. Once Steve was parked at the trail head we were alone for the rest of the day. I stuffed a few beers in my pack for a toast and we were off for some bushwhacking and creek wading.

Life is everywhere if you pay attention.

This would be our trail for the day.

The trail starts as a level road through open fields that quickly had Steve mumbling about how it would be so much better if they just would let us drive but after finding some fresh blackberries and a deer walking right out in front of us, his mood improved. We eventually reached the familiar old barn and cabin from our hike a few years back to the base of Big Bradley but instead of taking the right we took a hard left in search of the waterfalls on Little Cove Creek.

Steve was excited to see Milton Bradley Falls.

He was more excited to see this snake though!

The trail continues to be an open road and the heat was really beating down on Steve and I as we were already a mile into the hike. There was still plenty to see with many wildflowers blooming and our first creek crossing of the day. I made no attempt to keep my feet dry and the cold water felt good as it soaked into my tennis shoes. After the creek crossing the directions said to take an angled approach to the far right corner of the field and enter the woods. The trail is non existent at this point and we waded in the weeds working toward the woods and an obvious creek coming down the mountain. Once at the woods, there isn't any obvious path but a short distance away I could hear the creek. I told Steve our best bet would be to just wade and rock hop and when we entered the creek I made note of a pile of dead logs to know where to get out on the way back.

The top of Milton Bradley Falls. You can see the design in the rock here.

There's something nice about just being in the woods with no clear trail. Kevin had mentioned easy open woods walking on the left side of the creek and we found an overgrown but old logging road to follow next to the creek. At a tangle of dead trees, we met with the only trouble of the day. I crossed over the brush watching for snakes but somehow alerted some hornets to our presence. Steve got the worst of it being stung twice and dropping our guidebook in their nest while he retreated! We gave them a few minutes to calm down before retrieving the book without further issue.

Our faint logging road eventually swung away from the creek and we went back to our creek wading moving upstream. Lining both banks were tall and potent stinging weed. Steve and i already were itching from brushing some and rinsed our legs off as best we could in the water. It didn't seem like it was very far but creek wading is slow going sometimes but through the trees I could see the first waterfall of the day, Milton Bradley Falls.

Steve beside one of the numerous cascades on Little Cove Creek.

We climbed this cascade using the natural water soaked stairs.

I'm always amazed how much better these waterfalls are in person than I've seen in pictures, and Milton Bradley Falls was no exception. At around 35ft high it would be the tallest waterfall we would see that day and it cascaded eloquently down to a small pool at its base. I couldn't think of a better time to share a beer with Steve and we lightened my pack by emptying  two sweetwater blues before spying the steep scramble path we would take next to the falls to continue upstream. Steve took the lead and he was climbing along the rocky cliff when he told me to hold up. The tone in his voice made it clear he had spotted a snake. A few minutes of thrashing around and he had captured his prize, a baby water snake that was unusually friendly. We took a few pictures before turning him loose and searching for the rope that was supposedly there to assist us over the rock face at the brink of the falls. Steve dug it out of the weeds and was quick to scale the rock face and vanish from sight. I took a more cautious approach and slowly inched up the rock before leveling off at the top to discover the rope tied to a dead log! I looked back over the ledge knowing I would have to go back the same way later. The rocks at the top of the falls has some neat swirls and we rested for a few minutes before continuing the wade upstream.

Beautiful lichen along the creek.

Bradley Cooper Falls.

I can't stress enough that this hike isn't for everyone. There isn't a trail to be seen and the only sane option is to stay in the water unless you just enjoy the burn of stinging weed. We made good timing for the most part but there are quite a few trees laid over the creek that gave us some up and over workouts and we were constantly on the lookout for bees or snakes. Aside from the named falls, there are many beautiful cascades on the stream and I was constantly stopping to take pictures. After some rock hopping and more downfall, Bradley Cooper Falls came into view. I was impressed with this waterfall as well and found it photogenic despite a few dead logs at it's base. Steve ran over to the base and filled his water bottle saying he would make women jealous by drinking from Bradley Cooper! The name of this falls came from a movie he was in called the Hangover. The day the falls was discovered the man who found it had a hangover.

Steve drinking from Bradley Cooper.

High above Bradley Cooper Falls. Heading upstream.

It wouldn't be a true Strickler/Horton outing if there wasn't some misinterpretation of the directions and instead of turning onto the side stream we were supposed to follow to the next two falls, we instead spotted a rope running above the top of the falls and continuing upstream. We followed the razor thin path using the rope to get around the cliff and found a more defined trail appearing out of nowhere....someone was coming in from upstream. Whoever this someone was, had money and rope, and Steve and i followed the ropes up and around countless obstacles. We both were having the time of our lives. We finally came to a monster boulder that blocked the entirety of the creek with a small spout of water squeezing underneath it making a nice little rock shelter and waterfall. The trail past this area levelled off and it was soon clear that we had made a wrong turn. I fetched the book from my pack and realized my mistake before having to confess to Steve. He took the news in stride and we headed back to to find the right creek.

The upper reaches of Little Cove Creek.

Sat down to have a look at my directions and found a photo op.

At the top of Bradley Cooper Falls we hugged the narrow ledge trail and swung onto a side stream. Literally a few feet in we crossed over the third named waterfall of our hike, Mary Lou Bradley Falls. The trail really gets close to the brink of the falls and caution was exercised continuing on by us both. I told Steve we would check it out from the base by more conventional methods on the hike back but we had one more waterfall to see, the unique Cavern Falls. The next half a mile of creek wading was the toughest of the day but I was determined to see Cavern Falls and visit the small cave behind it. A seemingly endless stretch of fallen trees and narrow rock chutes and boulders guard the final approach but when I lumbered into sight of the falls, I was in awe.

Steve climbing around some of the more scenic obstacles.

We found a beach.

More creek climbing.

Cavern Falls is one of the most interesting waterfalls I've seen and there is a killer swimming hole at its base. To enter the cave behind the falls, I had to wade the swimming hole that was waist deep on me so poor Steve was in to his chest. We both tool turns exploring the narrow chasm and finally settled on a rock in front of the falls to dry off and reflect on an incredible day. Four quality waterfalls and he had finally got to see a snake on a hike, I felt like he had a pretty good Father's Day even with a few bee stings.

Cavern Falls.

Steve celebrates arriving at Cavern Falls.

The narrow entrance to the cavern. Passing through here guarantees a soaking.

The author at Cavern Falls.

Our hike back seemed to take less time and we made a quick stop at the base of Mary Lou Bradley Falls for a few pictures and made the mini rappel at Milton Bradley Falls without incident. The area where we met the hornets was avoided by wading to the far side of the stream to bypass the area completely and we were rewarded with the best raspberries I've ever put in my mouth growing in abundance on the bank. Reaching the car, we brushed off as best as we could before searching for some lunch. Steve spied a Jack in the Box and was perhaps the happiest  I had seen him all day. While in the drive-thru I discovered six ticks crawling on me and I'm sure onlookers got a laugh at us both inspecting each other for more in the middle of the busy parking lot. In closing, many thanks to the pioneers such as Andy Kunkle and his band of bandits that not only continue to make new discoveries but are willing to share that information with the rest of us. Until next time, happy trails.