Waterfall Therapy

This is where I sit as I write this.

Every week that passes has made me a firm believer in a concept I have coined ‘Waterfall Therapy’. The last three weekends I have found myself at the foot of three different waterfalls. Closing out the fourth weekend … who was I to break tradition?

The first was Wisconsin bred along Willow River. The gradual grade made a perfect playground. Wading along with the current pushing hard against my skin, almost in an attempt to rid my presence. The second trip was common ground for me. I picked up my favorite Minneapolis made Vietnamese sandwich and decided it would taste better with a side of cascading water. I ate my curried mock duck at Minnihaha Falls. The water particles seemed to shatter in mid-air. The resulting mist cooled my face in the hot summer sun. Last weekend I huffed past the 2000 foot Bridal Veil Falls while hiking the Cascades.

Sitting there. Hearing the powerful sound of water against rock. Smelling the liquid’s sweetness in the air. Feeling the mist or current against your skin. Sensory overload in the best possible way. How could anyone leave these places harboring even an ounce of negativity?

Each of these days I arrived in a good mood and left in an even better one. My deductive reasoning tells me that a bad mood could easily morph towards positivity in the company of a waterfall. I think Waterfall Therapy has made it to my list of mood moderators. Bad day … find a waterfall.

To carry on tradition, today I decided to play a risky game with the waterfalls of the world. Hidden Falls regional park has bested me before. I spent the day circling, seeking out these hidden falls. To no avail. Today I felt I had waterfall magic on my side and hoped my luck had changed. It didn’t. I made the same circle but this time found a dried up creek bed that may or may not house a small fall in wetter weather.

My substitute is sitting in the sand, under this tree watching fisherman reap the benefits of the Mississippi.

You’ve won this round, Hidden Falls. But I’ll be back, I always come back.

I guess I will have to settle for Ford Dam.


WAIT!!! This story ain’t over! I even fooled myself with that one!

A short distance out of the park, I spot this sign nestled along the bike trail. I pull over to investigate the possibility of another footpath to the falls. The steps from the bike trail open to a familiar sound. I know that sound. I love that sound. I came here for that sound. A huge, rock carved staircase brings me down to the Found Falls.

So this is how my story ends – I leave a little happier than I came and think to myself, “That’s one regional park I am all tied up with.”