528 - The Waterfall Spot
At a certain point, the only way to be original is to be so unoriginal that you’re truly original. Such was the case of today’s adventure, at a waterfall proudly named “The Waterfall Spot.”
As I drove through the tall grove of redwoods and passed a sign that said, “Fairies live here. Please be mindful,” my stomach grumbled rudely. (Clearly it wasn’t in the mood for such lively fantasies. Not until it had its daily banana chocolate bar, at least.)
I’d just woken up about 15 minutes prior. My hair was unkempt. My mind was groggy. My windows were still fogged up. And I certainly wasn’t fit to be driving on this steep, cliff-side road. But, you know, that’s where waterfalls tend to hang out.
Except this wasn’t like every other waterfall in the books. I’ll tell you why in just a second. First, I got to find parking.
According to Google Maps, I was here. But “here” was a one-lane dirt road in the middle of a forest. And since this wasn’t a traditional tourist destination, there weren’t any traditional parking lots lying around.
I kept driving until I eventually found a muddy pull-off that seemed sufficient. So long as a stray landslide didn’t occur, my home would be safe from the cliff about 1.1 meters to the right.
I hopped out of the Prius and listened carefully for the waterfall like some kind of ancient monster from the 1600s hunting its prey. I looked to the left. I looked to the right. Then I heard a faint “swwiiisshhh” in the trees. My eyes scanned the woods until it landed on what I assumed was water falling vertically.
Target acquired.
I started at the top. Oh yeah, and remember when I said this “Waterfall Spot” wasn’t like any other kind of waterfall? That’s because this was a concrete waterfall. In some circles, that’s called a dam. But since we were in fairy territory, playing pretend felt par for the course.
As I stood on the edge of the dam and looked down, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty of contrast here. Massive redwoods were towering above, rich vegetation was sprouting from every square inch of dirt, and right in the center of it all was a grimy, man-made wall covered in tasteful graffiti.
It was the best of both worlds. The clash of landscape and street photography. The two sides of the photography spectrum that secretly hate each other’s guts. However, despite their polar opposite environments, they’re more similar than any other two genres of photography. Both rely heavily on artistic skill, and are near impossible to make money with.
After taking a few test shots, I decided it was time to head down south. Nothing was quite popping from up here.
I scaled down the steep cliff-side, gripping massive roots and twirly vines like some kind of modern Tarzan. When I finally landed on the bottom, the first thing I noticed was a giant couch face-down in the middle of the stream.
An old-school, maroon red couch. The kind of couch you slept on at a friend's house back in college after a long night of budget beer and vanilla vodka shots. The kind of couch that was just short enough that you couldn’t stretch your legs out fully, but just worn out enough that the cushions felt like a bean-bag so you didn’t care.
The second thing I noticed was rocks surrounding the couch. They were partially underwater, but completely covered in seashells. As in, the seashells were embedded within the rocks… Some kind of fossil trickery was going on here:
“Compliments of the Fossil”
Taken with Sony a7rIII + Zeiss 24-70mm f/4
[ISO 2500 ~ 70mm ~ f/6.3 ~ 1/60s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
Those green/red branches created the perfect pop. Got-damn.
I walked carefully across the mossy stream to the waterfall, praying to the shell gods that I wouldn’t get a chance to meet them up close.
Once I was at the base of the dam, my eyes couldn’t help but get distracted by the colossal redwood tree that had fallen in front of it. In fact, it blocked almost the entire view of the waterfall from below. There was no way to isolate the dam in all its glory.
The landscape photographer in me seized the opportunity like lightning. It looked the street photographer in me dead in the eye and said, as cold as ice, “You’ll never be loved like he loves me.”
And just like that I snagged a photo of the fine fallen redwood, with not a dam in sight:
“Fallen Redwood”
Taken with Sony a7rIII + Tamron 17-28mm f/2.8
[ISO 500 ~ 28mm ~ f/9 ~ 1/5s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
I took that shot at such an angle that the tree blocked out most of the dam, which was behind it. However, I did have to edit part of it out in the bottom left to make it a purist nature shot.
I literally took another shot of a cliff next to me and blended it in where the dam was. Because “fuck dams.” (Not my words, please excuse the rather blunt landscape photographer in me.)
And that’s that. Case closed. One shot in this adventure, and it’s not even of the dam waterfall.
For all you know, there was never a dam to begin with. Or a waterfall for that matter. But hey, that’s what the imagination’s for, right?
I’m on a mission to explore as much as humanely possible.
Want to see my progress? Check out the Adventure Map.
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