There is a little town way up north in the state of Michigan called Munising. This quaint town sits right on Lake Superior and is surrounded by a think forest of towering trees. When I was young my family used to spend 2 weeks out of our summer here to visit family and escape our home town, Coronado. Hidden in the forest throughout the town there are waterfalls waiting to be explored. When we use to visit it was my brother and I’s favorite thing do. We knew where every waterfall was located and hiked up and down each one at least 10 times. The wildlife and environment was something we have never experienced before.
As you entered the trail it was as if you stepped into a whole other world. The trees stood tall and lined either side of the path. There were various shades of green; chartreuse, forest, kelly and olive, everywhere you looked. The ground rolled out into a beautiful green carpet beneath our feet. When you looked up the sky consisted of leaves and branches with the occasional patch where the sun seemed to peak through. The paths winded and turned through the trees and bushes. Sometimes we would come across a wood, manmade bridge passing over a small creek that gently ran under it.
Each waterfall we visited was different from the last, which always lead to the excitement of something new. The water would fall down the rocks in different patterns or fall from a ledge that was 20 feet high. Others would plunge into a small pond underneath it while others just trickled off an edge. Each one had a different path to follow with different obstacles in the way whether it was a fallen tree or sometimes even a creature blocking the path, if we were lucky. On occasion you could see deer in the distance coming to the nearby creek. During the spring there was a chance of seeing a baby with its mother which is one of the most memorable sights of all.
Excitement always grew as we came closer and closer to the waterfall. You could hear the water hitting the ponds below, sounding like beating drums. The air always grew moist and leaves became damp as the waterfall neared. The ground below us became slippery from the water in the air and the footprints of previous visitors began to appear.
As soon as we broke into plain view of the fall all other noises were muffled out by the rushing water. Water sprayed off the surface and into our faces numbing our noses. My brother and I would test our limits getting as close to it as possible before my mom would yell at us to come back. The water was always too cold to play in but we would jump from rock to rock across the river to try to make it to the other side. Occasionally a foot would slip in, and you would have a rough journey back to the car along with continuous complaints.
We would play there for an hour or so skipping rocks and testing our limits on who could stand closest. When play time was over we had to amble back to car. The hike back was never nearly as amusing as the hike there. Complaints would start to roll off my bother and my tongue and finally would seize once we arrived at the car. As soon as we got on the road again we would discuss which one we would visit the next day and the day after that. The next day it was always a whole new journey to a whole new waterfall. A different path, different creek, and a different way the water would fall down the rocks.