There's nothing I hate more than the concept of driving up a mountain, but nonetheless I felt it was something I had to do, to feel out the area and get a grasp about the land around me. I promised myself next year after the snow melts I would hike from the base to the summit. It's strange how driving a car up a mountain can be enjoyable, slowly scaling the hairpin turns and steep grades, windows down, soaking in the brilliant sunshine, a cool breeze and the freshest of air blowing through the windows. Watching the landscape change was something I've always looked forward to experiencing while driving up a mountain.
Eleven miles up Notch Rd brought me to Money Brook Falls, not the intended waterfall of the day but a most welcomed blessing indeed. The hike down to Money Brook Falls was intense and exhilarating. I felt the steep mountain sides radiating into my knees, a welcomed pain, the anticipated beginning of a permanent and raw relationship. I couldn't ask for a better blue sky or fall day. Many of the leaves on the surrounding mountains had fallen, making the leaved trees we walked through even more special. I will never forget the orange leaves contrasting the blue sky. The descent began unsure whether or not the waterfall would be running. Only when we were .01 miles within the falls did I begin to hear the water. A few steps past a small grove of hemlock and there right before my eyes, plunged in the most delicate sense possible the tallest, steepest, and in a way the most beautiful waterfall I've ever experienced. The water trickled down the slippery, mossy, green-tinted, leaf covered rocks which fell over a cataract-like wall, dripping in some places, trickling in lines, falling harder in others. Besides Tannery, this was the most enjoyable waterfall to scale. Stopping two-thirds of the way up provided a meditative area where I could contemplate the horrible depression that often comes with the end of the falling of the leaves season and what the point of everything is anyways. Waterfalls evoke all emotions, welcomed or not. Sometimes they hit you hard, other times they aren't there; yesterday they were continuous. I sat there for an undefined amount of time, photographing with my Canon TL 35mm film camera generously provided by a caring friend. Photographing for me was different that day; I was using a professional quality film: Kodak Ektar with 100 ISO, 36 exposures. Due to the steep, steep grade on which the waterfall was located bringing the heavy duty tripod up, over, and across the cascades as I climbed to the top was not going to happen. I was forced to find some ounce of steadiness in my shaking hand as a turned the exposure down lower and lower with each shot, hoping to capture the streaming white glow of the water. People say Money Brook Falls isn't the best of the many Greylock has to offer, and although it's the only one I've seen so far I strongly beg to differ.
The hike back up was the steepest I've yet experienced, but it was also my favorite. There are few things as rewarding as climbing fifty or so steps at a time, turning around and watching your height become level with the canopy of trees around you, and eventually with the mountain lines across the valley. At that point I cannot lie when I say I was glad we would be driving the rest of the way up to the Summit.
The top of Mount Greylock was a completely different experience than that of the waterfall. Fortunately, the number of tourists dwindled with it nearing towards the end of the day making it more intimate scanning Massachusetts from the highest point in the state. I can't yet describe how this made me feel, being above EVERYTHING. Even the Berkshire hills seemed small as the humps rose over miles and miles and miles to the back of the horizon. Bodies of water. Jagged peaks. Rolling hills. Clear cut farmland and a complex yet small array of houses made me wish they weren't there. Sitting at the very edge of the cliff, watching the deep purple shadows form, pocketing the valleys and in between individual trees was a sight to remember. The glow of the fading sun casted a gold light on the remaining foliage while the naked birches held their ground, shining with light. Every single individual tree. It was so quiet.
The light morphed into a warm pink and purple mixture as the sun continued setting on the drive back to North Adams. I wonder how this beauty goes unnoticed by so many in society today. It is moments like this one that keep me alive. Nature is stronger than humans but it will protect those who show it compassion and care.
October 21, 2013.
images soon to come
