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Elrod Falls
Sep. 8th, 2003 01:20 amOkay, I promised myself I was going to bed early; I want to get up early and look for birds. But I just can't resist telling you about our trip to Elrod Falls.
First you need to understand that New Market, and even Jefferson City, where Carson Newman College is, are so small that they don't have their own phone book. Instead there's a phone book for the "Five Rivers Area" composed of the nearest 9 counties. This phone book has a section called "Area Attractions": things like the Crockett Tavern Museum and so on, and one of the attractions is Elrod Falls, "one of the most beautiful waterfalls in East Tennessee."
Kip and I intend to get to know the area, so on Sunday afternoon, armed with nothing but the phone book and an optimistic attitude, we set out to find Elrod Falls. The directions were spare, but adequate--a good thing, since we were working with the area map in the phone book. It was a beautiful drive, through farms and fields and wooded ridges, all green from the unusually rainy summer. At one point I'm pretty sure we went over a mountain--at least, we switchbacked our way up one very steep hill with an amazing view I didn't dare glance at at the top, then switchbacked our way down the other side. This is much more exciting in a car than it is on foot.
We found the falls easily enough--aside from worrying that we were barging down some local's driveway; the last stretch of road is gravel, barely wide enough for one car to creep past another, and kind of lightly marked. I took pictures but can't figure out how to post them or even link to them. Never mind; I'll settle for getting the web form to accept this post. (grump)
You have to walk the last hundred yards or so. The stream threads among mossy rocks and pebbled banks to your right as you go, and in some places the path gets very muddy. Parts of the handrail have fallen down, though the remainder was firm under my hands when I needed it.
The falls are very pretty, cascading over ledges of watersmoothed rock to a deep pool, then burbling down to a shallower pool, home to several fish, some nearly six inches long.
It saddened me, though, to see how little some of the visitors value this beautiful place. It angered me, too. Beer bottles, pop bottles, some whole, some smashed on the rocks of the stream, pill bottles (do people go there to finish out their prescriptions, or what?), decaying T-shirts. Kip and I paid our dues to the wilderness, carrying out several shopping bags worth of trash. Note to self; next time bring actual bags--the litterbugs aren't leaving enough bags to hold the rest of the junk.
We did find some special things too, though; two snail shells, white as porcelain and delicately ribbed, so thin you can see the dark dirt inside, and a blue flower springing up in a patch of sun. Kip picked his way to the top of the falls; I wasn't so brave, but recorded his exploit for posterity.
I'm glad we went. And perhaps the kami of the falls is glad we came.
First you need to understand that New Market, and even Jefferson City, where Carson Newman College is, are so small that they don't have their own phone book. Instead there's a phone book for the "Five Rivers Area" composed of the nearest 9 counties. This phone book has a section called "Area Attractions": things like the Crockett Tavern Museum and so on, and one of the attractions is Elrod Falls, "one of the most beautiful waterfalls in East Tennessee."
Kip and I intend to get to know the area, so on Sunday afternoon, armed with nothing but the phone book and an optimistic attitude, we set out to find Elrod Falls. The directions were spare, but adequate--a good thing, since we were working with the area map in the phone book. It was a beautiful drive, through farms and fields and wooded ridges, all green from the unusually rainy summer. At one point I'm pretty sure we went over a mountain--at least, we switchbacked our way up one very steep hill with an amazing view I didn't dare glance at at the top, then switchbacked our way down the other side. This is much more exciting in a car than it is on foot.
We found the falls easily enough--aside from worrying that we were barging down some local's driveway; the last stretch of road is gravel, barely wide enough for one car to creep past another, and kind of lightly marked. I took pictures but can't figure out how to post them or even link to them. Never mind; I'll settle for getting the web form to accept this post. (grump)
You have to walk the last hundred yards or so. The stream threads among mossy rocks and pebbled banks to your right as you go, and in some places the path gets very muddy. Parts of the handrail have fallen down, though the remainder was firm under my hands when I needed it.
The falls are very pretty, cascading over ledges of watersmoothed rock to a deep pool, then burbling down to a shallower pool, home to several fish, some nearly six inches long.
It saddened me, though, to see how little some of the visitors value this beautiful place. It angered me, too. Beer bottles, pop bottles, some whole, some smashed on the rocks of the stream, pill bottles (do people go there to finish out their prescriptions, or what?), decaying T-shirts. Kip and I paid our dues to the wilderness, carrying out several shopping bags worth of trash. Note to self; next time bring actual bags--the litterbugs aren't leaving enough bags to hold the rest of the junk.
We did find some special things too, though; two snail shells, white as porcelain and delicately ribbed, so thin you can see the dark dirt inside, and a blue flower springing up in a patch of sun. Kip picked his way to the top of the falls; I wasn't so brave, but recorded his exploit for posterity.
I'm glad we went. And perhaps the kami of the falls is glad we came.
