Anti-climactic would be a good word to use. I'd risked having my bladder burst for this? How would I ever make this look good enough for the paper? I can do pretty well with Photoshop, but I can't perform miracles with it.
Then Eric noticed a little trail beside the river and thought we should take it. I wasn't too keen on taking the trail because I was wearing flip-flops. I know I should have known better than to wear flip-flops, but I looked at pictures of the falls and to me it looked like a park. One where you could pull right up to the falls, take a few shots and leave. Plus, I usually have a pair of scrubby close-toed shoes that I keep in the car for such situations. For some reason, the shoe box was in the car, but no shoes.
After driving for hours trying to find this place, I knew I had to get my pics that day because there was no in all fine hells I was ever going back there. So, I decided to walk the trail in flip-flops. So not a good idea. I was worried that snakes might come out and find my toes to be tasty. Fortunately, the only snake we saw was this little fella and not only was he completely harmless, he was also completely lethargic.
But you see all those little sharp rocks sticking up? They were liberally scattered over the trail, and I think I managed to step on every single one.
You know what I was scared of more than snakes biting my toes, though? Being attacked by some inbred named Chainsaw who would torture me for three days before bludgeoning me to death with the jawbone of a feral boar.
I have an active imagination.
However, if you've ever roamed the wilds of Madison County, Arkansas, you'll know that my imagined bludgeoning wasn't so far-fetched. And Chainsaw would have the perfect place to dump my body. After walking for what seemed like miles, we found this.
I was even more underwhelmed than I was before.
We walked some more. We crossed a bridge. An ugly, brown bridge made out of expanded metal that bounced when you walked on it.
It led us to some falls. Well, they were rapids that wanted to be falls when they grew up.
The good news was that they were bigger than the last set of rapids. The bad news was that a picture of them wouldn't make anyone want to actually go visit this
craphole lovely river.
I even got all artsy and blurred the falls.
Amazingly enough, it just looked exactly like a blurry craphole.
At this point, my feet were starting to hurt, the outside temperature was steadily climbing and Eric had pointed to a pile of poop and said, "Oh look. Bear poop." And even though I knew he doesn't know the difference between bear poop and walrus poop, I now had to not only worry about snakes and Chainsaw, but I also had to worry about getting mauled by a bear.
I may or may not have had thoughts about punching my editor right in the wiener.
Tomorrow I'll fill you in on how I ended up with a wet butt and what my final photos were.