June 1, 2012
“You have to see the waterfall” they tell us. What they didn’t tell us was how to get there. It must be obvious, right? We headed up the road, saw a likely looking path, came to a dead end (‘cause of the giant cow thing with horns standing in the road, sharp horns). That path didn’t seem to be heading in the right direction anyway.
We continued up the road and saw a sign that said something in French about a hydroelectric plant. That might have a waterfall, right? We walked, and walked, and walked, and after ascending probably 3000 feet, we had a great view but no waterfall, except for a nice view of one way in the distance. Back down.
On a whim, out of gas, legs cramping, we took an unlikely truck trail and came to another dead end at a house with pigs and dogs tied up all around. The dogs barked and the woman came out. We asked as best we could with our very little bit of French and lots of hand gestures, where the waterfall was. She motioned us through what looked like her yard, past the pigs and up the hill. Off we went.
The trail ended in a pile of rocks shortly after the house. We would have given up at this point (and sought treatment for my failing cardio-vascular system) if it weren’t for the fact that we seemed to be near a stream with what might have been waterfall sounds in the background (what I could hear over my throbbing pulse in my ears). Looking around, we saw a stack of small rocks – you know, that universal trail maker kind of thing. Off we went.
The trail petered out at least three more times but thank you, thank you, thank you to the kind rock piler person as there was always another one to lead us on. We finally found it and it was worth it. The pictures show you what we found better than I can describe it. -Rich and Cyndi
