i, on the other hand, had a plan. well, to be more precise, i had yearning. for getting away, for getting into nature. i was going to the canyon. no, not that canyon. something closer to home. cloudland canyon, in the northwest corner of georgia, bordering alabama and tennessee.

however, i would have to leave soon if i were to make it in time for sunrise — it was just after 2:00 a.m. and i had a three hour drive ahead of me. i racked my brain and gathered everything i thought i may need, shoved them into my car, and got on the road— i would not sleep that night.

my drive was long, quiet, and peaceful  — and then i was there. i got out of the car, took a deep breath of green, and began walking to the first overlook on the edge of a cliff. i had the place mostly to myself. distant waves of fading green and amber. singing birds gliding about. i then realized that the main trail of the canyon was the other way, so off i went.  

sitting at the head of the trail was a set of wooden adirondack chairs set up to take in the view.

the wood was soft, chilled, smooth, and inviting, so i plopped down and gazed at the landscape.  these chairs sure had a good thing going for them. they faced a tree-spotted cliff with a wooden fence to corral guests from going off the edge. beyond it were grassy hills rolling into the nothingness of the horizon.

i sat a long time. i was in no rush. finally, my stomach growled, as i had not eaten all night. so, it was time to head back and find that restaurant i had seen a few miles away.

with some fuel in my stomach, it was time to hike the trails. there was green everywhere — i would have to come back in autumn to see fall colors. as i went on, i noticed how the opposing side of the valley had another tree covered rock outcrop—like a mirror. i  found a large stone ledge i could stand on, unguarded by a fence, that would allow me to witness it all, undisturbed.

i continued, eventually reaching a large natural pool. i waded my legs into the translucent water, flinching at the cold.

i heard a low rumble and looked up to see that the pool was being filled by a small waterfall surging over the cliff. as i grew closer to the fall, the rumble took on specific notes. on some rocks, the water fell in tones of a low rumbling bass, on others, a jolting treble. people were standing on these rocks, using the fall as a makeshift shower of sorts. i joined in, clothes and all. they would dry.

i started back, but when i reached the entrance of the pool, i noticed another trail going in the opposite direction. this trail was littered with debris — rocks and large tree limbs. i ducked under the limbs, most of which were fallen trees that had gotten stuck between the sides of the cliffs. i crawled, climbed, and maneuvered around the rocks, trying not to fall into the pools of water trapped in their floors. finally, i reached the end. it opened up to water flowing off the edge of a rock. it was beautiful. there was a small snake squirming around. i found a dry spot on the rock to sit — it was cool to the touch — and hung my legs over the edge. when i looked down, i saw the same people who were just in the pool with me. i realized i had gone around the back to the source of the waterfall. i sat and took in this view for a while, before deciding it was probably time to head back to my car. back to the suburbs. back home.