The thunderous echoes of falling water are unmistakable, unforgettable even, the oft-deafening roar created by wildly flowing rivers and creeks deepened to swift currents by rainwater and snowmelt. The velocity of waterfalls can be incredible, and in stunning juxtaposition, the mist generated by the riotous movement of water is soft and light and as weightless as a butterfly’s wings.
The romantic lure of waterfalls is difficult to resist, and there is perhaps no place where they are more beautiful than in Georgia. Most waterfalls are in the northern tier of the Peach State, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains above Atlanta. On a cold, blustery and snowy late winter day, after a false spring had already urged the mountain laurel and rhododendron to bud, my husband and I set out for the Blue Ridge to see as many waterfalls as possible in one day. While the weather was predicted to be sunny, it fooled us and gray dominated the skies. But even that didn’t deter us, and truthfully the light sleet and snow only added to the romance of chasing waterfalls.
Armed with a map of North Georgia, we had a sense of where we were going, but not really. We were traveling for the pure adventure of it all and to see what we could see — and didn’t care if we got lost.
