As we approached the end of our stay in Florence, the dense sea mist continued to rise and mingle with the grey drizzle, draping a big wet blanket over us. We were forced to acknowledge that we were in the midst of the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and of course the endless rain, making it a typical Autumn in Oregon. We embraced it. It made a happy change from the beating heat of the Arizona desert that we had endured for two decades and more.

The colors of Fall were all around us. The leaves fell from the skeletal branches of the trees surrounding us at the campsite, bright, burnt oranges, sunny yellows, mottled greens and chestnut browns carpeting the ground. If we were lucky enough to catch a leaf as it danced and helicoptered to the ground, we held it close to our hearts and made a wish. We could smell the campfires of our neighbors and it prompted us to make our own fire. . We stood with glazed eyes watching the blaze glow in the half light, listening to the spitting flames lick at the wet logs, watching our breath make its own morning mist with every deep sigh, sinking our hands into the pouches of our hoodies. We started thinking about soups and stews for dinner. Every season has its own treasures.

With Henry settled for the day sorting out his latest Pokemon cards that he had picked up at Fred Mayer, Kim and I set out to find Sweet Creek Falls, a famed local beauty spot, recommended to us by the locals in town.

We followed the twists and turns of the Siuslaw River, eerie in the mist. We spied a fairy tale Hansel and Gretel wooden cottage, smoke rising from a stone chimney, a wrap around porch with weathered adirondack chairs positioned for the best view of the river, and a little jetty with a gently bobbing boat, with oars at the ready, at the bottom of the garden. We spotted an elk or two raise their heads as we drove by, lazily watching us from the grassy banks of the river. There was hardly any traffic and we drove in silence enjoying the stillness of the day.

We made a sharp right turn and drove about ten miles or so following Sweet Creek to reach the signposted trailhead.

Well, words cannot adequately describe the quintessential Autumnal scene before us. The colors of the leaves carpeting the path, the waters of the creek with the swirling pools and gentle falls, the surrounding woodlands, dark and deep with promises to keep, was simply idyllic. 

I hope the photos convey the beauty of the scene. We really need Willy Wonka smell-o-vision so we can close our eyes and fully inhale the woodsy smells of the dripping, damp ferns, the tiny lichens and impossibly green mosses, fallen branches, leaves mulched into the muddy ground and the fresh scent of the sweet creek. A true sensory experience.

We walked a five mile round trip on leaf littered pathways, zig-zagging wooden bridges and slick river banks. It was heavenly!

​Breathe it in!

Chasing waterfalls in Trinidad, California, was a joy!

We found leaves as big as your head with the most amazing colors of mustard yellows, rusty browns, lime greens and burnt oranges. The idyllic scenery was complete with the gently flowing waterfalls. Spectacular!

We puddled about in the water, hugged lots of trees and made a wish every time we caught a dancing leaf.

We are definitely seeing the change from Summer to Autumn. Feeling the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

There are three waterfalls on the McCloud River by the small town of McCloud, California; McCloud Lower Falls, McCloud Middle Falls and McCloud Upper Falls.

After getting lost in the car park at the Lower Falls Trailhead which is almost ridiculously impossible to do, and then walking a good mile in the wrong direction, we finally made it back to where we started and found the trailhead to the Lower Falls, a couple of steps away.

Kim and Henry wish for me to put in a disclaimer here...

I solemnly swear that I was up to no good.  It was me, Laura Barnes, and me alone, that led us in the wrong direction. Henry clearly said he could hear the waterfalls in the opposite direction. Kim clearly said he knew we were going in the wrong direction. Alrighty then. Mischief managed.

At the Lower Falls the McCloud River tumbled through moss covered rocks, ferns, and overhanging trees in a beautiful picturesque-picnic setting, cascading into a deep pool of clear water where we could see the fish swimming in shoals. A fisherman stood on the banks and we saw him catch a flip-flopping rainbow trout that was as big as his forearm. Even from the distance we were standing we could see the trout's pink and green iridescent coloring and its silvery underbelly. The fisherman immediately packed up and left, happy with his catch. Henry had fun dodging all the bees as there must have been a hive nearby. He is paranoid about bees following him, so Kim is always tickling him on the back of his neck with a long stick and frequently makes buzzing noises. Family fun!

Next stop, further upstream, was the Middle Falls. The cascading water from the narrowing river brought the drama! The mist created lots of rainbows in the air which added to the magical atmosphere. We hiked down to the bottom of the tall falls and we had fun playing in the pools and clambering over rocks to get a better view. Not so many bees at the Middle Falls but plenty of dragonflies!

Lastly we stopped at McCloud Upper Falls, at 50 feet, the tallest of the three waterfalls. It was a hidden gem. With a single sleek drop, splashing into a horseshoe shaped pool, it felt private and intimate, a natural wonderland in the heart of the Shasta-Trinity Forest. We hiked down the river and around the rim through the fragrant pine forest, catching glimpses of the pristine wilderness beyond.

Although these waterfalls are not protected in an official Californian State Park, they. absolutely should be. The three waterfalls were stunning!

Autumn is a cosy time of year.

Its a time for woolly socks, long scarves and pom pom hats, pumpkin spice laced goodies, patched cardigans and patterned tights, misty morning breath, slow falling leaves, all things plaid, foggy windows, fireplaces and sheepskin rugs, maple syrup candles, dogs in costumes, rich colors of hunter green, mustard yellow and muted maroon, curling up with a Colleen Hoover paperback, fresh baked batches of cinnamon cookies, pine cone collections and of course snuggling up to loved ones. So, in the spirit of Autumn, we set off to Hedge Creek Falls in Dunsmuir, about twenty minutes south of our campsite in Weed, California.

The waterfall was in a magical, fairy forest filled with wood nymphs whispering of wolves and woodcutters. Dancing orbs of light dodging and weaving through the colorful trees played naughty tricks on one another, laughing with glee. Underfoot, pine needles mixed with acorns fallen oak leaves and discarded wands. The waterfall itself poured into a grotto that was intimate and mysterious. Of course I was immediately spellbound.

On further exploration, I found I could walk behind the waterfall in a cave filled with the muddy hand prints of Red Riding Hoods and Snow Whites. Echoes of transformations and witchy wisdom from bygone eras filled the enchanting space. I was enchanted as the water toppled over the rocks above and pooled in the light bedabbled stone basin below.

We walked through the magical woodland in search of fairy circles, toadstools and secret kisses.

I hope you are enjoying a fairy tale Autumn as much as I am!

There are only a few places on this beautiful planet that are inextricably linked with a single person, to the point where you cannot even think of one without thinking of the other. They are  energetically entwined and bound with the fine, silky threads of deep respect and utter devotion. Mount Everest and Sir Edmund Hillary, The Lake District and William Wordsworth, Gombe and Dame Jane Goodall, Walden Pond and Henry David Thoreau. For Yosemite, it is the naturalist, John Muir. No one has described the vast beauty of Yosemite, championed for its protection and impressed upon the world the necessity of such a place to reveal the connection between man and nature, like John Muir. 

If you have been to Yosemite, you know that words just cannot do it justice. It is nature's cathedral. It is a place that has to be felt and experienced. A place to bow down in reverence.

So of course, I have to begin with some descriptive words written by John Muir himself to describe this spectacular National Park.

The drive at dawn to the park from our campsite just outside Groveland was twisty and turny with panoramic vistas, sharp drops and skeleton forests burned to the bones, trees like living zombies standing tall, black at the roots and ghostly gray at the tippy tops. In the early morning mist it was a little apocalyptic.

Through the tunnels, then down in to the valley,  we stopped and started to take in the sights of Bridal Veil Falls, the Merced River, the looming gray sentinel that is the fearsome granite El Capitan, the sharp edges of the Three Brothers and then Half Dome, like a huge ship with its stone sail at full mast, sailing down the valley in the distance.

We parked and set off for a short hike to Yosemite Falls. Henry and I had come prepared, wearing our swimsuits, ready for a dip in the icy waters. Because we had arrived so early we were amongst the first to be at the Falls and we had a good hour to ourselves at the pool where the Falls gather in a deep overflowing granite basin before their final tumble down to the valley floor, feeding the lush meadows with fresh water. Our time at Yosemite Falls is already etched in my memory. Henry's huge grin and utter joy of being right there in the moment, in the glorious sunshine, with the spray of the waterfall hitting his face, scrambling over the rocks and taking a dip in the icy pool, was exhilarating. I will remember our time there forever.

Finally, at lunchtime our grumbling tummies dragged us away and back to the truck where we had our picnic lunch near the Visitor Center and of course we got our National Park cancellation stamps.

In the afternoon we hiked out to Half Dome, past the Ahwahnee Hotel, along the Merced River. We tried to spot the intrepid hikers heading up the rounded granite rock to the top on the 18 mile round trip via the Mist Trail, a feat completed by my brother-in-law Simon many moons ago. The long day hike now requires a National Park permit. What an incredible view of the valley there must be from the top! I did watch several YouTube videos of the demanding hike, so I could get a glimpse of the panoramic view. 

Seriously, words cannot express the magnificence of this colossal National Park. I tried with all my might to view it through the eyes of John Muir. I not only wanted to see its timeless beauty but feel that deep soul connection with nature in my core. 

I believe I did.

These photos were taken over several days in the Park.

The best part of the day was when we stopped for photos at a beautiful overlook. Totally unexpectedly and literally out of the blue, a humpback whale leaped out of the ocean in a full breach, making the most enormous splash as it broadsided the water in a loud smackdown. We then watched it move steadily northwards, it's fluked tail waving at us, misty sprays of breath snorting from its blowhole like steam from a kettle, and the delightful humping over of the giant leviathan as it dipped and rose in rhythmic waves as it leisurely moved away from us.

This is not my video, but it illustrates the big splash of a breaching humpback!