The waterfall, the mud and the machete. Part II.
I felt my foot start to slide through the goo once--just once--but I flung my arm out and managed to cling to a rock and stop my fall. Finally, the terrain flattened out. I felt triumphant--I'd made it all the way to the bottom without breaking my neck. We waded through a creek before arriving at the big rocks next to the waterfall where we spread out our picnic lunch.
Eric and Meg picnicking on the edge of the falls.
Seven Sisters is a series of--you guessed it--seven waterfalls. We lunched at the pool in between the bottom two. If you want to pay extra, you can hire a guide to show you how to jump off the waterfalls, leaping from pool to pool. I was 100% convinced that jumping off not one but seven waterfalls would result in my untimely death. Eric was intrigued by the idea, but decided against it. With all the rain, the water was unusually high and rapid--not a serene mountain stream, but rushing and chocolate-colored from all the mud that had washed into the water.
The rushing, brownish falls.
Still, while we weren't brave enough to leap off the falls, we didn't let the murky water deter us from swimming in them.
No, we're not skinny-dipping...there are swimsuits under there.
The delightful thing about Grenada is that even when it's cloudy and rainy, it's still 84 degrees. And the mountain water was only slightly cooler than that. It was a little chilly and tingly to step into at first, but after that it was just pleasantly refreshing.
And fighting against the current added just a twinge of excitement to the swimming; you always knew that if you somehow got into the wrong spot, you just might get caught up in the current and swept right over the edge. Fun times!
Eric and Meg contemplate the drop.
We swam, we laughed, we took pictures. And then we packed up our lunch stuff, grabbed our walking sticks, and headed back to the trail...just in time for the rain to start. But the canopy of the rainforest overhead actually kept much of the rain from splashing down too hard, and, as I've said before, hiking in the rain is nothing new to Oregonians.
The river. No idea what it's called.
"It's a lot easier on the way back," I commented to Meg and Eric as we sloshed our way back up the goopy hillside trail we'd descended earlier. "Now that I'm going uphill I'm not nearly as worried about slipping in the mud and killing myself."
Of course, as soon as I said those words my feet slipped straight out from under me, and there was no recovering from it this time. I was on the ground and covered in mud.
To be continued....
Eric and Meg picnicking on the edge of the falls.
Seven Sisters is a series of--you guessed it--seven waterfalls. We lunched at the pool in between the bottom two. If you want to pay extra, you can hire a guide to show you how to jump off the waterfalls, leaping from pool to pool. I was 100% convinced that jumping off not one but seven waterfalls would result in my untimely death. Eric was intrigued by the idea, but decided against it. With all the rain, the water was unusually high and rapid--not a serene mountain stream, but rushing and chocolate-colored from all the mud that had washed into the water.
The rushing, brownish falls.
Still, while we weren't brave enough to leap off the falls, we didn't let the murky water deter us from swimming in them.
No, we're not skinny-dipping...there are swimsuits under there.
The delightful thing about Grenada is that even when it's cloudy and rainy, it's still 84 degrees. And the mountain water was only slightly cooler than that. It was a little chilly and tingly to step into at first, but after that it was just pleasantly refreshing.
Doesn't she look pleasantly refreshed? And like she's enjoying the water? Really, she is.
And fighting against the current added just a twinge of excitement to the swimming; you always knew that if you somehow got into the wrong spot, you just might get caught up in the current and swept right over the edge. Fun times!
Eric and Meg contemplate the drop.
We swam, we laughed, we took pictures. And then we packed up our lunch stuff, grabbed our walking sticks, and headed back to the trail...just in time for the rain to start. But the canopy of the rainforest overhead actually kept much of the rain from splashing down too hard, and, as I've said before, hiking in the rain is nothing new to Oregonians.
The river. No idea what it's called.
"It's a lot easier on the way back," I commented to Meg and Eric as we sloshed our way back up the goopy hillside trail we'd descended earlier. "Now that I'm going uphill I'm not nearly as worried about slipping in the mud and killing myself."
Of course, as soon as I said those words my feet slipped straight out from under me, and there was no recovering from it this time. I was on the ground and covered in mud.
To be continued....
2 comments:
That would be the Balthazar River my dear. As you noticed, the areas of Grenada are named after Saints or biblical characters. I am envisioning the photo that will be in Part III...after the fall...and I'm certain it will be hilarious!
Or, perhaps, named after a size of champagne?
http://www.democratherald.com/dhblogs/jennifer_moody/?p=405
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