A few months later, I returned. This time at high water and with someone who loves water as much as I do. We spent hours and hours that week just staring into the spray, amazed at the power and beauty of the water. We tried to scout lines, looking for even just one route that a raft might be able to run, but we found none. We used our knowledge of river features and attempted to decipher the features hidden deep under the surface that pushed and pulled the water, creating the white piles of water before us. It was really amazing.
Now, 2 years later, I find myself 1,500 miles from The Falls, watching the gauge rise, wishing I was there. I'm there in my mind though, standing below the Monroe Street Bridge in the dark, soaked by the cold spray, and completely content.
I recently got back in touch with a college friend I hadn't spoken to in 5 years. After weeks of me insisting that he take a walk downtown to see The Falls, he finally went one afternoon. My suspicion that he would love it there was confirmed. And along with a text saying something about him naming The Falls a new awesome hangout spot, I received some photos! I posted them as well as some from 2 years ago. They'll help ease my pain until I can see them again. While the photos don't begin to do justice to the awe that they inspire, I hope that you at least think they're neat. :)
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