The landscape was nothing I haven’t seen before: a packed parking lot, some trees, a playground with children running around, screaming. I advanced from the car toward the break in the forest and made my way up the cracked uneven path. The sounds of playful children and cars roaring by on the highway quickly began to fade as I made my way deeper and deeper into the path. The steps were built and carved from large pieces of stone that were far different, and stronger than the shale that made up the walls of the gorge. The stream just inches from my feet flowed leisurely by with no rush to escape the small and narrow gap in the rock. I come to a small bridge over the stream, the sounds of civilization are nothing but a distant memory. I cross. Just around the bend, I am left speechless. Stony Brook Falls. I remove my hiking boots and step into the stream, allowing the cool refreshing water to surround my feet. I set down my day pack and roll up the bottoms of my khaki shorts, each step now drawing me closer and closer to the fresh white water calmly rolling down the stacked rock of the cliff. Waist deep now and numb, my temptation to advance grows with each step. Now, just inches from the falls, wide-eyed and blue lipped, I allow my back to press against the jagged rock beyond the falls and feel the cold water run through my hair and down my face. Suddenly, the cold is no longer bothersome. The experience is all that matters. –Sabrina