If anyone needs me, I’ll be tending to a head wound from Labor Day’s excursion up the actual road to nowhere inside the actual wagon the Donner Party used… except minus the cannibalistic outcome… and minus the wagon… and minus the head wound. But it was almost exactly the same. While scrambling to find something interesting to do on Labor Day amidst me having to work and carry the work phone, we decided we’d venture up Providence Canyon and check out some mysterious waterfalls that everyone and their 3 dogs have been talking about… by everyone I really mean only like 3 people… and there were no dogs involved in any part of this story. I had done some googling prior to going and found that some dude had written up a description about how to get to these waterfalls and what to expect (probably 20 years ago… considering nothing he wrote about was in the same spot he wrote about). Dude said, and I quote, “a well-maintained dirt road.” Now, I know I’m getting senile and crankier by the minute, but last I checked my definition of well-maintained was light years off of his definition. By his definition the Mount Everest hike is a “pleasant jaunt up a hill.” PASS!
He also mentioned that there were places to have a nice picnic… no mention of picnic tables, so I wasn’t expecting to walk into the Four Seasons Mountain Pass Spa and Resort… but like a grassy nook or some sort of thing like that would have done fine.
So, we head out in my dad’s truck. No offense to my dad’s truck but by truck standards it is definitely baby bear from the Goldilocks story. No 4-wheel drive, bald tires, and I have to roll down the windows by actually rolling down the windows… no fancy schmancy electronic buttons up in that vehicle. Beulah the Buick even has electronic buttons. The road was like stuffing yourself in a dryer and turning it on turbo speed. I hit my head against the ceiling of that vehicle so many times it’s a wonder I’m not in a coma. Potholes the size of the Grand Canyon littered the road like an infestation of rabbits during birthing season. The road was also very narrow and seeing as it was Labor Day there were other recreational vehicles trying to wander the pothole roads, so one would have to venture off to the side until the other passed because both wouldn’t fit. The people driving 4-wheelers and RZRs were about 12 times smarter than we were, but still had whiplash. RZR-ing, lashing and whipping since 2010. It took a good hour of rumbling and shaking and spinning out tires to get up to what dude called a rock quarry. He said once you hit that quarry, you’ll be able to find 3 different waterfalls. We found one pretty easily.
I would be lying if I said it wasn’t neat to see water just randomly falling out of a dry old rocky hill. While we were there this family on a RZR came to look at the waterfall, so we went over while they were eating sandwiches to ask if they knew where the other waterfalls were. A 20-something-year-old guy in the back gave us some vague directions. Something to the effect of back over there and around there and ta da… waterfalls! (when we got to talking with them it turns out they’re good friends with Lindsay’s in-laws… small world!)
We got back in the truck and drove up a little more where we stopped to eat dinner on a pile of rocks… that must have been the famous grassy nook dude was describing… and then I got my senior citizen walking stick out of the back of the truck and started walking to the invisible waterfalls because guy on the RZR said there was no way you could drive up to it. We didn’t get very far when the same RZR family passed by us and stopped. The very sweet 20-something-dude got out and started scaling rocking cliffs like he was some sort of magic mountain goat so that he could find the best possible way for us to jaunt up to the waterfalls we couldn’t find. Ten minutes later, he was back (something that would have took me 12 days and 12 nights to accomplish) and was pointing out a better way to walk up… he was basically walking up an avalanche of steep rocks. He kept pointing up the mountain… see the waterfall is there…
Do y’all see it!? Good, because I still can’t find it. It’s somewhere on that rock pile and apparently he could see it. I decided to pass on trying to scale Mount Rock Slide and instead we got back into the bald-tired vehicle and jaunted our way back down the pothole hill… but on the upside (or downside depending on how you look at it) there were fall colors to be seen… ALREADY!
Thank you honorary magical mountain goat for trying to guide is in the right direction. I’ll work on my mountain goating skills and someday I’ll be as crazy as you are!
P.S. My dad found the bald-tired truck had a flat tire the next day.
Congratulations are in order for buddy Corbin who got baptised this past Saturday and also for my pal Avster and her husband on the birth of a bouncing baby girl who is not named Whitney, Jr.! Congrats you all!