I shared this story before, and I’m not sure why I felt compelled to share it now. Perhaps I just needed to recall a time when I was young and daring and able to climb around and do crazy stuff.
In March of 1993, just thirty-one years ago, my sister Pat and I decided to start photographing all the waterfalls in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I don’t remember how many we got, but I know we didn’t come close.
Our first one was O Kun De Kun Falls. This was the first time we had been there, but it quickly became one of my all-time favorite waterfalls.
Even though the sign at the start of the trail read 1.3 miles, we didn’t think that was very far.
As we tramped through the woods, the cool July morning turned into a warm early afternoon, and before long, we were sweating in our jeans.
Finally, we burst out of the pine trees at the river’s edge, just at the top of the waterfall. A series of several short falls ended in a plummet to the Baltimore River, some 20 feet below.
“Hey, there’s nobody around,” I told Pat as I stripped off my pants.
“Look,” Pat pointed, after she had laid down her freshly-shed jeans. “A ledge goes all the way behind the falls.”
“That would make such a cool picture,” I replied.
“I’ll hand you your camera after you crawl back there.” I had a flashback to a similar conversation many years before. Dad had brought home this huge safe, and Pat bet I could fit in it. Why did I always do the dumb stuff she suggested?
Maybe that’s why I decided to share this story again, along with the picture. I’m getting too old and have been through so much over the last year. There’s nothing left to embarrass me.
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