Feature

The best thing to me about Sacramento, California has always been how easy it to leave. Something I have never been quite able to get out of my head was the motto for the regional girl scout chapter, “Girl Scouts Heart of Central California”. As a kid it seemed to be the center of the universe, everywhere you could possibly want to go you could go from there.

I spent my childhood summers leaving with my family. Sometimes, we would go north to the snow-capped domes of the southern Cascades, and dewy, green stream fed meadows crisscrossed with fallen trees in various stages of decay. Other times we would go west to rocky beaches, and foggy redwood forests, or else south to valleys and deserts and forests, or east to rocky wilderness and the crystal-clear waters of lakes barely visible one end to the other. In the winter, we would visit winter wonderlands of steep slopes and bright blue skies, or sunny SoCal beaches. But always, at the end of our adventures we would return to Sacramento, a tree filled city in the middle of an agricultural desert, a small jagged skyline rising out of dust. We would drive home across flooded fields, on bridges over sluggish, murky waters. Off fast speeding, crowded freeways onto slow, tree lines streets, houses with bright paint, white trim, and tall stairways, or chipped paint and a dusty leaning porch.

So, in my youthful world view, Sacramento became the heart. Not the best thing, not the only thing, but the point from whence everything came, and everything went.

Though the rivers that had once swept down the gold that Sacramento had sprung up around are now good for only the transportation of boats, and the endless sediment and pollution that the Sacramento and the American rivers pick up before they converge near downtown; it sometimes seems like they create one massive swirling eddy, a strong low pressure system, right in the center of the Central Valley where everything settles. There is no place in Sacramento where this seems truer than the delta.

12:30 am on a Christmas eve somewhere, myself and an old friend find ourselves in a car, driving nowhere in particular. We were talking about love and friendship, and sex and drugs and everything else, and how much we had changed since we last had seen each other. We took a right turn on a levee road heading west, into the delta, where every waterway in Central California converges and splits apart and merges until everything empties out into the San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. We thought no more of it than anyone else would think of a right turn, but after driving straight for some time we found ourselves passing the same road we had turned off. Somehow, we had gone in a circle.

And, at the intersection of hope and despair, I like to think that everyone chooses hope, so instead of turning back the way we had come, and going home, and going to bed, as all good children should on Christmas eve, we kept driving- determined to escape. Escape what, I don’t know, but we kept driving, headlights in the fog, the river on the left, the river on the left, blasting The Doors, river on the left, until we were back again at our favorite intersection. Spirits determined, we traveled onward. On and on, down sideroads that led immediately back onto the main road, swerving potholes and rabbits that dashed in front of the car, and then back again at the place where it all began.

Eventually, we determined that the only way we would ever escape was to cross the river on a ferry. So, after entertaining the late-night ferry man with our sleep deprived lack of critical thinking skills, we were off into the deep black something of 3am highways, through foggy farmland warped and distorted by the occasional streetlight.
After driving for some time, we drove onto the old western main street of Dixon, California, strung up with Christmas lights, and a two-story evergreen tree lit up and decorated in a park. We parked, got out of the car, and went to take very cryptic pictures of ourselves standing in the branches.

There’s this quote by Joan Didion, “Anybody who talks about California hedonism has never spent a Christmas in Sacramento.” Having split many of my childhood Christmases between Sacramento and Los Angeles, I have no idea what she is talking about. What I will say, is that Joan Didion clearly did not spend any Christmases with the two of us.

After our photo shoot with the giant Christmas tree, with a sense of misdirection I can only attribute to being high on life and a sky full of stars, we found ourselves climbing the fence of an under construction high school, peering through boarded up windows and jumping over muddy trenches. We ice skated on frozen bleachers and sprinted across empty fields in the dark till we tripped over shadows. Eventually we meandered back in the direction we came, and found a swing set and swung until the ground no longer seemed to lie flat underneath us. As a final hurrah, we hopped the fence to a public swimming pool and dove in naked for just a moment, until the icy water chilled the blood, and we ran back to my car.

As the sunrise painted the sky a rainbow, we drove back on the interstate over bridges and rivers towards Sacramento, two blood cells returning to the chest, blue and shivering. I have found over and over again, that in a city built on the rushing currents of rivers, and highways, and the deposits of everything that comes to rest along their banks, that the delta always seems to abridge that- sweeping everything and anything out to sea, filled with aimless meandering channels where there were once fast straight currents and four lanes of traffic.

How To


Anyone who has ever been tent camping knows that while there is much to be gained from spending time in the great outdoors, setting up a campsite can be a bit of a hassle. We all know the relief of turning off a windy mountain road onto a narrow gravel loop, looking for an ideal site, and then getting out of the car for the first time in several hours and taking the first breath of fresh mountain air. But, the journey isn’t over yet. You’ve got no place to sleep, no way to cook, and no place to relax. Now, the tent needs to be assembled, sleeping pads and sleeping bags need to be unrolled, inflated, and arranged, and duffel bags need to be situated at the appropriate heads and feet.

However, road trips and other similar long-distance drives may require driving to a new campsite every, or near every night, which means the set up and take down process has to become a part of the everyday routine. One solution to this is simply to own an R.V., camper van, or even a car that can be converted into a comfortable sleeping arrangement which can eliminate some or all of your daily set up requirements. However, if you don’t have access to a vehicle of this kind, there are still some things you can do to ease the daily burden.

1. Keep Things Together– put cooking supplies together, cleaning supplies together, and sleeping supplies together. This way you know where everything is, and can minimize the time spent ruffling through the car looking for things. If you are able to, consolidate these supplies for easy carrying. For tents and sleeping bags, I recommend a large Ikea bag that can fit everything you need to sleep, and can be taken directly out of the car to the campsite, and then back again the next day. This also helps with organization. A smaller bag or box is also helpful to keep your kitchen supplies together.

2. Use the car as part of the camp. Only take what you need to sleep and eat that night out of the car. Don’t bring out all the food, or even all of your clothes, especially if you are able to park near enough to the campsite that going to and from the car is easy. If you have space that isn’t used for passengers while driving, use part of your back seat as a pantry of sorts, where you can keep all cooking supplies in some sort of easily accessible order (orderly chaos counts).

3. Don’t bring too much, and rely on your environment. On more stationary camping trips, things like camp chairs, hammocks (not used for sleeping), and any other assorted campsite accessory may be a nice addition. But, I find that if you don’t need it, it isn’t worth setting up, taking down, and packing away every day. Most camp sites have picnic tables, and if not, you should already have a tarp or some sort of sleeping pad/ mat for sleeping, and honestly, sometimes the ground is better than a chair.

4. Get into a routine– Once you set up enough campsites in a short enough time frame, you fall into a very ‘just get it done’ mind set. If one person is better at setting up the tent, it is probably more efficient that they start with that while the person who is best at cooking sets up the stove, and another pays for the site, or does anything else that needs to be done. If one person needs help, everyone helps. Eventually kinks get worked out, and you find yourself setting up in record time.

5. Pack Efficiently, and with set up in mind. It is often tempting to crumple everything up and throw it in the car, but messy packing will only make set up that evening all the more difficult. So, pack with your future self in mind. Put the tent away so that the things you need first when setting up are on top of the bag. Put everything back where you had put it before, try not to just throw things in the car. And for the love of god, do your dishes. You will have to do them eventually, I promise.

Informative

The city of Los Angeles is often seen as one of the quintessential California destinations. After all, isn’t it the capitol? (no). But whether you’ve exhausted your Disneyland, Hollywood, and Universal Studios plans, have come to visit family and are now plum out of things to do, or simply said, “Lets go to Los Angeles”, and are now there, you may eventually find yourself with large swaths of time left unfilled. In this event, here is a list of four things you can do in Los Angeles when you haven’t got anything to do in the Los Angeles area.

1. Go to the beach

There is no shortage of beaches in the Los Angeles area, and going to the beach is a great way to waste at least half a day. For more crowded beaches with lots of local amenities, check out Santa Monica Beach, which is near the Santa Monica Beach Boardwalk, as well as many local shops and restaurants. Another option is Venice Beach, where you can spend time in the waves, and on the Venice Beach Boardwalk, which has no shortage of street performers, artists, and wacky side shops, art galleries, and freak shows.

For a more mellow day in the waves, check out Zuma Beach in Malibu where you can see the Hannah Montana House. This is also a popular destination for surfers, so bring your board, or if you don’t surf you can expect plenty of opportunities to cheer them on. Another option is Seal Beach in Long Beach. This is a pretty mellow option, as the beaches are generally pretty empty, and there isn’t much to do except lay in the sun and spend time in the water. However, if you get hungry there are great lunch options- I recommend El Burrito Jr.

2. Go thrift shopping

A great way to spend time in a new city is to check out the thrift stores. Los Angeles thrift stores often run a little pricier than you might find other places, particularly if they cater to more vintage/ designer styles, but if you look in the right places you can find some great stuff for cheap.

There are several good options in one little corner of Hollywood Boulevard. Out of the Closet- Hollywood has some great stuff for low prices, and the profits go to the AIDs Healthcare Foundation. I have found several fantastic art pieces there. If you are looking for something pricier and more vintage, check out Starday Vintage, which is a little shop that sells many fantastic vintage clothes, scarves, and random accessories and items for reasonable prices. Right next door is Vintage on Hollywood, which has a wide selection of stylish pieces that are fun to peruse. However, this is not what could be considered a ‘thrift’ shop by any extent, as a rather boring white t-shirt costs $150, and jackets and coats cost around $500.
However, what better way is there to waste time in Los Angeles then to walk in circles admiring jackets that you can’t even contemplate affording until the clerk peer pressures you to leave with the sheer force of their suspicious stare.

If you don’t fancy a trip to West Hollywood to do your thrifting, I recommend several places in the San Fernando Valley, particularly Throw Back Junction, which has a wide selection of clothes to look at for reasonable prices, as well as some fun accessories and décor.

3. Go to Griffith Park

Griffith Park has no shortage of hiking trails, with magnificent views of the Los Angeles skyline and the Hollywood sign. However, once you have exhausted those, you can also wander about in the Griffith Park neighborhoods, and look at very fancy houses. Once you have exhausted yourself, and your day, make sure to get something to eat at HomeState, which is a small, tex-mex style eatery, with fantastic tacos and queso. To round of the day, you can’t go wrong with a picnic in Barnsdall Art Park near-by.

4. Go to the Aquarium

The Aquarium of the Pacific is a fantastic way to spend your time in Los Angeles. The price of admission is only $17, and then you have free reign to watch sea lions and seals, various types of fish, jelly fish, otters, sharks, kelp, and more. There is a lorikeet pavilion, where for a small price you can feed the lorikeets, and tide pools and touch pools where you can touch rays and sea anemones. Overall, there are precious few ways to get bored wandering around aquariums, and if you find yourself bored here it is also a great opportunity to sort out your priorities. This aquarium also has the added benefit of being right next to the ocean, so you have the opportunity to go find yourself a beach and start this lovely list all over again.

Personal

There is a kind of comfort that can be found in places that stay the same as you change. They hold memories better. They are the sort of places that hold you in the palm of their hand, and you visit again and again to trace the constant curves of the lines etched into the skin. San Francisco is one of these places. It may have been a major U.S economic and cultural center for over a century, but everything there is just build on the ruins of something else, and time heals all wounds.

The city is ancient by Californian standards, and set in its ways. If you walk west down Jefferson street through Fisherman’s Wharf with your high school friends, doing the things that people are supposed to do, because that’s what high school friends do, you pass Boudin’s Bakery Café, which has been there since 1849, but you also pass an In-n-Out. Most likely, unless you want to wait in a line and spend too much money- you won’t eat at either. If you keep walking you can visit Ghirardelli’s Chocolate Marketplace, and you can walk out on Municipal Pier and look at the Golden Gate Bridge. You might not see it if it’s foggy, but that’s the true San Francisco experience. If you really like walking and want to hit all the hot spots, you can keep walking, you can see Fort Mason, and remember that San Francisco is really one big colonizer settlement on indigenous (Ramaytush) land, and then you can walk more, and pass a Safeway that does happen to be open at 3 a.m., if that was something you were needing to know. Go further any you will come across the Palace of Fine Arts, which you can wander about in, watch various birds in ponds, and wonder about its purpose. Most likely at this point you will come to no satisfactory conclusion; however you should also note that you can visit here at any day at any time and it will always look pretty much the same, though at night it may be dark.

Now if you want to you could keep walking and go through the Presidio and Golden Gate Park, but quite frankly that’s a lot of walking and I’ve never done that, so I won’t talk about it. You could also walk (again, long), or uber, or drive (if you can park) up to Twin Peaks to see the city from above. It’ll probably be very windy, and it might be too foggy to see far, you may find yourself huddling in a little concave in the side of the mountain, and if it is night it will most likely be dark, but it’s always fun to stand on top of a tall thing and look down. After that, you might be hungry, so you can head down Market Street, or literally any other street, and get something to eat that is most likely fusion something and over-priced but also good.

If you prefer to do a little less sight-seeing and a little more aimless wandering (particularly if you happen to start this journey near the bus station) you can wander around near Oracle Park and Mission Bay in the very early morning when it’s foggy and no one is around. It should be noted that is an unusual state for San Francisco, and it’s far more likely you end up visiting a busy farmers market in the Tenderloin, and then leaving the Tenderloin because there isn’t much else to do except watch people do heroin. For a bit of juxtaposition, you can then visit Lower Nob Hill (or almost any other shopping area), and wander past very wealthy people and through fancy department stores that sell exactly the same thing as every other department store, except these ones happen to be in San Francisco, which makes them Cool.

If it’s getting late in the day, and you are getting kind of tired, you can wander through SF MOMA, and then grab Ben and Jerry’s, carrots, and hummus from a Target nearby and sit on a bench at the top of Yerba Buena Park and watch the reflection of the evening sun on the San Francisco skyline from below. You can do this several times a year all through high school, whenever the dusty goings on of sprawling flat capital cities starts to wear on the soul a little, and a 6 am bus ticket is only 10 dollars. It’s a tame little adventure. The next day, people ask you what you did with your weekend. You tell them you went to San Francisco. They don’t ask what you did- you did San Francisco things. What more is there to say?

There’s nothing quite like San Francisco to remind you that the more things change, the more things stay the same. It’s always different, every time I go, under construction, or renovation, or hazy with the dust kicked up by a million feet that are only passing through, and yours and mine are among them. But it’s always that way. So you can wander the streets aimlessly, when you are younger, and older, and older still, and you can stand in the places where everyone does, and see the same things that everyone sees, but through your own eyes- which maybe makes it special. Then maybe later, you come back, and go to the same places and look at the same things, and they look a little different, but then again so do you, though they don’t look so different that you can’t remember what it was like to look at them back then. These things don’t remember you, and soon they might sink into the sea, or rather the sea will rise to cover them, and it won’t be anything at all but swirling eddies you can see from some new coast, where you look out and remember the harsh ocean wind that scoured sand against your sun burnt skin on Ocean Beach that one day you were much younger than you will be then, and went to San Francisco for the day, and splurged on a clipper card, and took the train to the beach, drank ice coffee in an over-crowded café, and spent too long in the sun.

Travelogue

It was supposed to be an easy day. My friend Noelle and I were driving from a small canyon campsite in western Colorado to a dispersed campsite in Western Utah– about a 6 hour drive, but expected to be relatively peaceful after the last week of lightning storms, wildfires, and flash floods we’d run into driving up from Texas. The plan was to leave early, make a couple quick stops to explore and make the driving easier, and arrive at our camp in the late afternoon.

This plan got derailed before noon. We had been driving for maybe an hour when we drove past Dillon’s Pinnacles– a fantastic geological feature in which cliff walls had been worn away, but the caprock layer at the top protected the layers underneath, resulting in towering spires of volcanic rock that date back to when Colorado was an ocean and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Walking among them gave me an immense feeling of timelessness, as though with each layer we passed we were somehow stepping into something directly reminiscent of those times, and all of human history could pass and these pinnacles would still remain in some form or another.

We got back to the car after noon and continued driving west. About an hour into Utah, we realized we would be driving by Moab, and quickly amended our plans to spend the remainder of the day exploring the park. By the time we arrived, it was around 4 PM, the weather was hot, and the haze from the Colorado fires tinted the sky red as the sun sunk to the skyline.

This was the first and only time I have been to Moab, so I don’t know how crowded it usually is, but during the pandemic the park was nearly not quite empty. Perhaps it was for this reason- or perhaps it is simply the nature of places like this- that the contrast between the towering walls and arches, the red dirt and scrub of the desert, and the shiny black asphalt and clean yellow lines of the road that cut obtusely though the landscape seemed to converge in such a way that it all seemed surreal. It seemed like such a symbol of our age that I could come to this place, without any real strain, and look at these magnificent structures that are the result of 75 million years of time and nature, and say “wow, that’s cool” and leave. Where the pinnacles made me feel eternity, this landscape felt something akin to waving mortality in your face and imbuing you with the knowledge that appreciation really means nothing.

This feeling gave me a distinct sense of *something* that lasted the rest of the night. We stayed in Moab long enough to watch a vibrant pink sun set over the jagged outline of the Utah skyline, and then got back on the road, determined to make our planned destination that night.

In retrospect, it may have been wise to find a closer place to camp, even if it meant digging into funds we didn’t want to spend, but instead we decided to drive the four remaining hours to Fish Lake National Forest. By the time we got back on the road, the sun had set completely, and we were winding through land we had never seen, pushing the 80 mile an hour speed limit, blasting music and asking deep questions to keep out the dark. Along the way we stopped briefly at a pull off on the side of the highway to stretch our legs and wake up a little, a little on edge because the only other occupant appeared to be an abandoned semi-truck.

On one edge of the parking lot was an information sign that informed us that we were parked on a cliff, and that below the cliff was a massive canyon. All we could see in front of us was darkness, until the land fell away and the sky continued, so full of stars that if you starred at it long enough every black empty space would fill with light. The truck at the other end of the lot kept us alert to our surroundings, and not wanting to linger too long, we got back in the car and drove onward, westward into the abyss.

The dark continued on like this, until what may have been flat land as far as the eye could see, or rolling hills, or tall rocky cliffs, or deep canyons cracking the earth gave way to forest, and we began to see little movements on the road, tiny creatures scurrying across it, and along it. The further we drove into the forest the more we saw of what we believed to be mice scurrying through our headlights.

Around midnight the map indicated we turn off onto a road that led us further into the forest. We drove upward into the dark, the extent of our world what the headlights could touch. Eventually the mice disappeared, and the trees on the side of the road turned into bushes, which turned into grasses, which turned back into trees. We continued to wind upwards, until the paved road turned to gravel, and a sign warning road erosion for the next 50 feet let onto a narrow one lane that consisted of all that was left of the road. The gravel continued until we reached a sign for a dispersed camping area. It wasn’t the one we had planned to stay at, so for no reason other than we were very clearly invested in sticking to this plan, we continued up further to the camping area we had planned to stay at. We drove around the whole thing, trying to be as quiet as possible, looking for a good place to pitch our tent but most of the obvious sites were already filled. Since we couldn’t really see anything, we just ended up parking next to a patch of trees, and pitching the tent very close to the car.

We cleaned up a little, and stared up at the brilliant lights of the night sky, before settling down in the tent. The night was quiet, except for a light breeze rustling the trees above us. Not five minutes after I had begun to drift off, I heard what sounded like footsteps circling the tent. They stopped for a few minutes, and then returned. I nudged Noelle; she had heard the footsteps too. We sat up, and called out hello a few times. The footsteps stopped. We tried to go back to sleep. A few minutes later they started up again, circling. They were short and light, and sounded almost like a person- albeit a very nimble one. We called out hello again. My friend announced that we had mace. I decided to look outside the tent- mace in hand. I fumbled with the zippers and poked my head out. Nothing. I shone my light into the trees, and the clearing next to the car. Nothing. We tried to settle back to sleep, but the footsteps came back again, circling, and we decided we needed to get out of there. We left the tent, took our sleeping bags, hoped in the car, and drove away as quickly as possible. On the intersection with the main road the headlights shone on cows grazing in a meadow. One looked right at us. I have a ranking system for ideal locations to be a cow. I would say that haunted forest cow is probably 5th on the list.

We drove around for a bit, deciding what to do. Noelle was in favor of spending the night in the car and going back in the morning to get the tent, but I thought that since we would have to go back in the morning anyways to get the tent, we might as well get it now. Retrospectively, I don’t really know why we thought that was the better option, but that is what we did. We sped back into the campsite- it appeared as empty and quiet as it had been when we left- and packed up the tent as quickly as possible by disassembling the poles without separating them from the tent, and shoving the structureless tent and everything in it into the trunk. We jumped in the car and sped off again.

By this point it was probably 1:30 in the morning, and we decided we would just drive to the first campsite we passed and sleep in the car. We parked in what looked to be a field where we could see a few R.V’s, and covered all of the windows with blankets and towels, put my still inflated sleeping pad in the front window and tried to fall back asleep. The backseats were full of stuff, so Noelle slept in the passenger’s seat and I slept in the driver’s seat. She fell asleep almost immediately, but I was still on edge, and not particularly comfortable. The slightest rustle outside shook me wide wake, and I kept thinking about the footsteps, and how we hadn’t heard any breathing, and imagining that there was someone standing outside the car. Nevertheless, I could see the night sky through the glass of the sunroof, and eventually drifted off into some semblance of sleep.

We awoke early in the morning to the sounds of birds chirping, and sunlight streaming in through the spaces that weren’t covered up. Outside was a beautiful meadow, green and yellow with early morning light, a few aspen trees swaying gently in the light breeze. Without getting out of the car, we drove back down the road a little to an empty parking lot with a bathroom. On the way we saw small groups of cows and calf’s grazing on the sunny hillside, and on the edges of pale aspen forests. As we made our way back across the eroded bit of road, one of them looked at us in the way cows do, and stood in the rubble, just grazing.

Listicle

Top 4 places to stargaze in Northern California.
The Northern California outdoors is known for its beautiful coastline and expansive mountain ranges that have plenty of opportunities for day hikes, camping, and other outdoor activities. However, Northern California is also known for its heavy light pollution and smog, which can obscure skies at night and make all but the brightest stars invisible. As a result, city dwelling Californians may have to adventure into other parts of the state to stargaze. Here is a list of my top four places in California that boast both beautiful days, clear nights, and give you a chance to get outside and really see the world. Of course, all of this is dependent on local weather conditions and air quality, so make sure to check weather sources before you head out!
1.Salt Point State Park

Salt Point State Park is located around 2 hours north of San Francisco up highway 1 and is far enough from major cities that its night skies are not affected by light pollution or smog. During the day there are several beaches and trails that wind along the cliffs of the rocky coast. The nights aren’t great for hiking, but if you are careful on a clear night there are several coastal campsites where you can lie on the cliffs over the ocean, stare up at the stars, and listen to the pounding of the waves.

2.Lassen Volcanic National Park

Lassen Volcanic National Park is about four hours north of Sacramento, on the very southern end of the Cascade mountain range. During the day there are many opportunities hiking various volcanoes and volcanic remnants, but at night the sandy expanse around Cinder Cone or the open sky over forested lakes is a perfect opportunity to sit and watch the stars behind the jagged outlines of Chaos Crags or Lassen Peak.

3.Yosemite National Park

Yosemite National Park, while contestably “Northern”, is one of the best places to see the milky way, particularly from the top of the valley. Backpacking up either side and spending the night in the high Sierras will give you a spectacular view of the sky without light pollution or smog, but if you aren’t able to do that, the night sky is still vibrant from the valley floor. However, during most of the year, Yosemite is very crowded, and you may have to reserve a backpacking permit or campsite months ahead of time.

4.Desolation Wilderness

Desolation Wilderness encompasses miles and miles of back country south of Lake Tahoe in the Sierra Nevada’s. There are numerous trailheads and opportunities for overnight trips into the glacier carved wilderness. Tree coverage is sparse and whether you find yourself on a lake or mountain side there is plenty of opportunity to see the stars from such a high elevation. These trails can be rough, and poorly marked, so make sure you have a map, and plenty of water.

Review

Zapata Falls is the sort of place you can’t find unless you look for it. Despite this, I stumbled upon it largely by accident as it happened to be the only open campsite in all southwestern Colorado because it is first come, first serve. It’s a bit of an adventure to find, miles and miles through the wide open expanse of the San Luis Valley, and the a sharp right turn onto the roughest three mile dirt road my ford fusion has ever seen that seems to be going nowhere the entire 25 minutes it takes to wind up the side of the valley without popping a tire.
The campsites sit on the west facing slopes of the Sangre de Cristo mountains, from which you can see the tallest sand dunes in North America and a spectacular view of the sunset over the valley. It is great for car camping, for $11 a night the sites are decently spaced, there is good tree coverage and clean bathrooms. The weather is unpredictable, so be prepared for short bursts of strong winds and heavy rains, especially in late summer.
The hike to the falls from the campsite is short and sweet, uphill but not too steep, though if you’d like to see the waterfall be prepared to wade upstream for 20 feet or so. The water is cold, but it’s worth it to wade into a chasm carved out by the force of a little creek over a millennium. The falls themselves aren’t large, but it’s the sort of place where time ceases to exist, or maybe is a little more present, just for a moment until someone else comes in and they aren’t wearing a mask and damn its 2020 isn’t it?