(And You Don’t Even Have to Hike It)

How does a short hike to an impressive waterfall sound?

A waterfall in the Catskills that no one has heard of?

And how about no hike at all?

Because that’s what you get when you visit the waterfall in Hurley, NY—a 50-ft. roadside waterfall hiding in plain sight that locals wish remains a secret. But off-the-beaten-paths in today’s age of Instagram don’t stay hidden for long. “Influencers” are bound to find them and showcase them to the world.

And that’s how I found out about Hurley Falls. I stumbled upon it while surfing the Web. Also known as “Coward’s Falls”, the name likely mutated from “Cow Herd’s Falls” when back in the day dairy cows liked to gather there under the cool shade.

Situated less than 0.1 mile from Hurley Mountain Road, a country backroad that parallels the busy Route 209 so only locals use it, the waterfall stands in the canopy of trees leading to it from the road hiding in the shadows. Unless one turns one’s head at just the right instant as one drives by at 50 mph, the waterfall can easily be overlooked. That is, if there is even anyone at all in that backroad outside of locals—who are perfectly happy for passing drivers—to overlook it.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong when locals wish to be left alone. Who wants rowdy outsiders trampling down one’s memory lanes?

I’m no “influencer” and I have no desire to be one. But I do like sharing gems I find in my area, thinking that if that is all everyone ever did and nothing else, then maybe the world can be a better place…

A Winter Hike to Artist Falls and Venus Bath

I did not expect parking to be reserved only for hotel guests at Winter Clove Inn when I arrived at the trailhead for Venus Bath and Artist Falls. I didn’t remember any of the websites I visited saying so. But there they were, not just one but multiple guests-only signs enforcing the inn’s policy. After circling around looking for street parking without any luck, my only option was to rely on the inn’s good graces to allow me to park—otherwise, my hour-long drive to the Catskills would have been for naught. I stepped inside the inn.

But there was no one at the front desk. No one was on the entire ground floor, either, as I walked around saying hello. So, I left a note with my contact information saying I was parked at the trailhead and apologized for my intrusion.

I set off on the trail.

I hurried my hike so I can return to the parking lot as quickly as I can, hoping my car wasn’t issued a ticket—or worse, towed—before I came back. But, more importantly, I did not want to wear out my (presumed) welcome.

But then I got lost on the trail.

I missed a turn, perhaps due to my haste, and what was supposed to be a one-hour out-and-back became a two-hour loop as I tried to find my way back to the trail.

In the end things worked out. I made it to Venus Bath, a low rock ledge spanning the width of the shallow brook with an opening dead center for the water to gracefully flow through instead of spilling over like water on top of a dam. And Artist Falls was a 25-foot waterfall with a covered bridge on top. What more need one say to paint a picture-perfect postcard scene? Two beautiful, frozen waterfalls in the Catskills just half-a-mile apart in a landscape blanketed by soft, white snow.

(There was a third, Gaia Cascade, between the two falls that I skipped, again in my haste.)

And there was no ticket on my car’s windshield when I reached the parking lot.

A website I found later states visitors need only inform the front desk, which was what I did, to park at the trailhead. And another website states more parking was available at the inn’s bowling alley just a short walk away.

The inn’s multiple guests-only parking signs in such a small space seemed rather ominous. I’m sure many turned away and headed home upon seeing the stern signs. But in light of the positive experience I just had, and the two websites I found later, I am inclined to think otherwise. The inn was probably trying to stem the growing tide of interlopers on its property once picture-perfect postcard photos of Artist Falls started circulating online and, like Venus Bath, will welcome the few well-meaning visitors to freely flow through.

It seems one need not venture deep into Nature to find waterfalls in the Delaware Water Gap, a region of wondrous natural beauty in the northern part of Pennsylvania. It is simply brimming at the seams, so to speak, with waterfalls.

Variously referred to (at least by me) as the Poconos, the Pocono Mountains, Dingmans Ferry, or simply that place “not far from picturesque Milford”, the Delaware Water Gap–with “water gap” being defined as a gap in a mountain range formed by water (like a river) flowing through it, and “Delaware” being (I think) the Delaware River that flows into the Atlantic in the State of Delaware–is home to several waterfalls many of which are popular while some seem to have been lost to the casual tourist. Tumbling Waters is one of the latter.

Perhaps the reason for that is it takes a long, 3-mile hike to experience just one waterfall at Tumbling Waters. If the visitor simply wants a waterfall experience in the Poconos, options abound with a lot less effort, more touristy vibes, and therefore more bang for the buck. The three waterfalls at George W. Childs, for example, begin at only 0.2 mile from the trailhead. At Bushkill, the first and second of several waterfalls begin at only 0.1 mile. And Raymondskill Falls is only a 0.1-mile walk from the parking lot.

There is no question a short walk in Nature accords one the moment needed to get away from the stresses of daily life. Like reading a book, engaging in a hobby, and listening to music, Nature provides a means of escape.

So, with more inviting options, why would anyone visit something like Tumbling Waters?

Change.

A long walk in Nature gives one time to ponder on the profound (whatever that may be), reflect on one’s own faults and shortcomings, clear the mind, forge a path forward, and so on, and so on. A long walk in Nature can liberate the self from baggage weighing down on one’s mind and set a baseline from which one can spring forth and start afresh.

And should a waterfall land in one’s path along the way, one could take that as culmination of one’s thoughts, dreams, and, yes, prayers and take that first bold step forward toward change knowing that as part of a greater whole one is never truly alone.

A waterfall tall and majestic is a sight to behold.

But unlike a mountain that has to be 1,000 feet or higher otherwise it’s just a “hill”, a waterfall has no height or width restriction for it to be called a “waterfall”. If water falls vertically down a rock ledge of higher elevation to a rock ledge or pool of lower elevation, then it is rightfully and literally a waterfall.

Indeed, water dropping just one foot high through a narrow chute between two rocks is a waterfall. But imagine widening that chute to the width of a river spanning dozens of feet while keeping the same height of one foot and one cannot be faulted for calling it a “cascade”.

So, I need no one’s forgiveness when I declare that I have found two waterfalls on Kakiat Trail at Harriman State Park, albeit small.

Harriman State Park’s mountains—yes, they are over 1,000 feet tall—do not seem to have the resource to power water down the slopes year-round into raging waterfalls. So it’s not known to be a hotspot for waterfalls. Except for the waterfall called Arthur’s Falls, the rest, 11-22 depending on which website you visit, are seasonal and are likely not going to be there when you visit unless you come at just the right time—right after a heavy downpour.

But the waterfall experience is not one of sight alone. Whether it’s the thunderous roar or the light pattering, the sound a waterfall makes is perhaps Mother Nature’s best instrument in elevating one’s whole being into the realm of rejuvenating bliss.

Minnewaska State Park is huge. And very, very beautiful. Streams, waterfalls, views, rock formations, lakes, carriage trails, hiking trails, biking trails, even fantastic cross-country skiing—name it, Minnewaska State Park has it. No wonder it has in the 1800s become a booming domain of the well-to-dos which has since the 90s been transformed into the public park that it is today for a meager $10-per-vehicle-no-matter-how-many-people-you-can-safely-cram-in-there fee and NYC day-trippers began coming in droves for a romp in Nature “upstate”. So, when coming on a summer or fall weekend, unless you plan on arriving before opening at 9 AM, be prepared for not getting into the park at all.

Just saying.

But there are alternatives. Outside the main park there’s Stony Kill Falls which we ended up going to years ago when we saw the long line of cars on NY44/55 trying to get in. There are also trailheads here and there with limited parking, some free, some not. People on these “alternates” don’t normally stay there the whole day so you might get lucky finding parking as people come and go.

The waterfall at Sanders Kill Creek is one such alternative. Although it’s right next to busy NY44/55, where you’ll often hear traffic, this is still a legitimate waterfall worth seeing. It is just a short and effortless 0.2-mile walk from the ~8-car lot at Jenny Ln where you can park for free.

And if you’re already parked at Jenny Ln and made it to Sanders Kill Creek, you can maybe walk the rest of the way effortlessly on NY44/55 into the main gate at Minnewaska State Park less than a mile away and walk in for free.

Just saying…

Hornbeck’s Creek Waterfall

The Delaware Water Gap in the Poconos is chockful of waterfalls that even if one wishes to avoid the popular ones like Raymondskill, George W. Childs, and Bushkill, there’s still a plethora of waterfalls to choose from with short hikes and less to no crowds in an even more pristine Nature setting. The Lower Indian Ladder Falls at Hornbeck’s Creek is one such waterfall.

At just over a mile hike, the wooded trail crisscrossing the creek eventually opens up to an amphitheater with the waterfall at dead center. It’s as awe-inspiring as a waterfall can get. And awe, as backed by recent studies, is beneficial to our well-being.

Awe causes “shifts in neurophysiology, a diminished focus on the self … and a heightened sense of meaning,” says Dacher Keltner, a preeminent scientist studying awe.

“It is impossible to overstate the role that the grandeur of nature has played in human spirituality. Psalm 19 sings out, ‘The heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.’” This, surprisingly, is from the book, “The Anxious Generation” (2024), whose author, Jonathan Haidt, discloses in the same book that he is an atheist.

The book’s thesis focuses on the current Gen-Z’s addiction to the smartphone through no fault of their own and the author’s conviction that through specific measures this addiction can be undone. And awe in nature, if teens can be made to wander in Nature without their phones constantly demanding their attention with an endless barrage of notifications, is one such measure.

I only mention the book’s thesis in case anyone wants to delve further into such well-written and well-researched topic.

I would like to draw attention instead to where the book says, “You see a photo of Victoria Falls … and yet, because the entire image is displayed on a screen the size of your hand, and because you did no work to get to the falls, it’s just not going to trigger as much awe as you’d get from hiking up to a much smaller waterfall yourself.”

In other words, you may view photos and watch videos of Niagara Falls, but the experience will nowhere near equal that of visiting a waterfall yourself, even one as small as the waterfall on Hornbeck’s Creek.

Yet the most telling aspect of the book for me is the atheist author’s perhaps unintended message that one need not believe in anything to be awed by Mother Nature. Such is her power. And when one finds oneself so moved by Mother Nature, in a somewhat fateful turn into irony, is when one finds oneself immobilized into utter disbelief.

Is it Possible?

Think of the times you wanted to photograph a waterfall but can’t because you would either have to ford the stream to get to the other side where the waterfall can be seen or rappel down the side of a cliff to get down to the waterfall buried deep inside a gorge.

A drone in both cases can help you take those shots.

Waterfall Photography

But photographing waterfalls is all about controlling movement—movement of the water, specifically. To make the waterfall look like what our eyes see—milky and feathery white instead of the millions of water droplets suspended in the air—we need to control the water’s movement by slowing down our shutter speed to about a second or so. And to shoot anything at that slow speed, forget about waterfalls, we will need a tripod if we don’t want our image blurred by our unsteady hands.

Can a drone do this?

Six Degrees of Freedom

A drone is essentially a tripod in the air. It uses a hardware-based gimbal and software-based electronic image stabilization to keep the image still in the camera’s lens. The resulting image, as the video shows, is comparable to the milky, feathery white waterfall we are accustomed to taken by tripod-mounted cameras.

A drone can be a powerful and indispensable tool in a waterfall photographer’s arsenal. It offers six degrees of freedom: forward/back, up/down, left/right. We have complete freedom in framing our shots without ever leaving our spot.

Flying safely and respectfully

Although drones are still expensive, used ones especially of previous models can be bought for less. Still, flying a drone can be nerve-wracking as it is so easy to crash them, even for experienced remote pilots.

But as beginners, if we restrict the use of our drone to photographing waterfalls only, where the drone is always just a few steps away and never leaves our sight—and not, say, flying high in the sky surveying the landscape just because we can—then we will never have to worry about our expensive drone crashing irretrievably far away from us. We can save such adventures for later as we gain experience.

And, lastly, we should always be respectful by not even pulling our drone out of our bag when there are others around who, like us, also came to enjoy Nature. There will always be a next time. If not, then we can always pull out our trusty old camera and tripod from our bag instead.