Waterfalls of South Cumberland State Park: Greeter Falls

Just when I thought I’d already seen the very best of the many magnificent waterfalls along the Cumberland Plateau, I hiked the Greeter Falls loop. Slowly but surely, I’m making progress toward my goal of hiking every inch of trail in South Cumberland State Park. I’ve hiked about 30 unique miles here so far, but I’ve got at least 60 more to go. This is my local hiking passion project. Not many people outside of Tennessee and its neighboring states have heard of South Cumberland State Park. It’s often unfairly overshadowed by the state’s other incredible hiking destinations, like Big South Fork and Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Both of those places are exquisite in their own ways, but there’s a much more secluded and intimate gem located less than two hours outside of Nashville. South Cumberland State Park is home to several of the state’s best hikes that you’ve never heard of (also Fiery Gizzard, which deserves its status as a household name, but it’s much more heavily trafficked than several equally gorgeous trails in the area). In addition to Fiery Gizzard, I’d hiked Big Creek Gulf and Buggytop Cave before I hiked Greeter Falls in December 2019, my last new hike of the decade.

Greeter Falls (lower) on Christmas Eve, with a rainbow reflection to the right of the falls

Completing my 2019 New Year’s Resolution with a waterfall hike at South Cumberland State Park felt like an appropriate move, so on Christmas Eve, I woke up with Christmas morning energy levels and hit the trail. I hiked a mild two-mile loop that included a spur trail to Blue Hole, a beautiful swimming hole along Firescald Creek. I definitely wasn’t jumping into any creeks in late December, but the area was pleasant and worth the short detour. The water was moving pretty quickly, likely due to recent heavy rains. Even if it’d been a hot summer day, I’d have been skeptical about swimming at Blue Hole based on the current I observed, and more importantly, its precarious proximity to the top of Greeter Falls. Water levels are usually lower in the summer months, however, and this sparkling creek certainly would have seemed more inviting under different circumstances. I was lucky enough to be alone at Blue Hole, but I’m sure the scene is much less pristine and quiet on a hot Saturday in August.

Back on the main trail to Greeter Falls, my solitude continued. Throughout my hike, I only encountered one other group, a father and two relatively young children. The trail to Greeter Falls, including the spur to Blue Hole, wouldn’t present much of a challenge for young or inexperienced hikers. It’s one of those hikes where minimal effort offers maximum reward. If you’re looking for a longer hike or more of a challenge, the trail continues beyond Greeter Falls, and after a mile or so, it connects with the Big Creek Gulf and Big Creek Rim trails at the Alum Gap campground. I’ve hiked the rugged eight-mile loop that these two trails form, but from the access point at Stone Door, on the opposite end of the loop from Alum Gap (If you’re interested, you can read about that hike here).

a throwback photo from my hike at Big Creek Gulf in August, 2018

I wasn’t looking for a long and solitary journey into the wild on Christmas Eve, and I couldn’t have been happier with the gorgeous views packed into this short hike. Greeter Falls is actually a set of two concurrent waterfalls, and while both are gorgeous, the lower of the two falls certainly outshines its upper counterpart. A spur off the main trail provides access to both, and there’s a sign that provides clear and foolproof directions. The trail to the upper falls is fairly easy, descending mildly over a rocky path before the trees open up and offer an expansive view of a broad, angular waterfall behind an oddly placed, massive boulder. I can’t imagine how the boulder got there. It’s much too large to have been placed by anything but nature, but it appears so out of context among its surroundings and obscures a huge section of the waterfall. It looks completely unnatural, but there’s no other explanation for its placement. In a way, sights like this one make me appreciate the randomness of nature. Sure, the views would be more photo friendly without this massive boulder in front of the falls, but I’d have plenty of unobstructed views of the lower section of Greeter Falls in my immediate future.

the upper section of Greeter Falls, mostly obscured by a boulder as big as an RV

I started moving back from the upper falls towards the split in the trail that leads down to the lower falls. Almost immediately after the split, the trail steadily descends along the bottom of a high rock wall over loose rubble before abruptly ending at an iron staircase. The staircase spirals tightly down the side of a nearly vertical rock wall and then connects with two more iron stair cases that lead down to the edge of the brilliant blue waters below Greeter Falls. The lower section is much taller than its upper counterpart and flows with much more force, creating an impressively beautiful scene when viewed from below. It appears as if the mighty waters carved out part of the cliffs over time, creating a bowl beneath, as indicated by the pattern of horizontal impressions running along the curved cliff walls surrounding the falls. The water was high and cold when I visited, so I couldn’t get closer to the falls than the outcropping of rocks at the bottom of the staircase. I’d imagine that these waters are safe for swimming on warmer days and would provide a sublime reprieve from the intense heat of Tennessee summers.

After ascending the iron staircase and returning to the main trail, I ventured onward to Boardtree Falls, a small but lovely waterfall accessible via a short, but very steep, spur. I mean no disrespect, but Boardtree Falls doesn’t compare to Greeter Falls. However, it’s an easy and worthwhile detour, and I’m all for maximizing my time on any trail by taking every spur available, as long as time and conditions allow for it. I considered hiking the extra 2 miles roundtrip to Alum Gap, to take in some views overlooking the expansive gulf. I ultimately decided against it and returned to the trailhead, choosing the road home to Christmas Eve with my husband and the dog instead. All things considered, I can’t imagine a better finish to two years of hiking a new trail every month, and I’m so excited to share my tales from the trails in 2020. Things are off to an amazing start, and I know they’ll only get better from here.

Boardtree Falls, a hidden waterfall just beyond Greeter Falls, provided an unexpected bonus on my Christmas Eve hike.
all smiles as I completed my 2019 New Year’s Resolution to hike a new trail every month, and Greeter Falls felt like a cherry on top of a spectacular year in the wild

Hiking Near Salt Lake City: Lake Blanche Trail

In the midst of an emotionally turbulent weekend, celebrating my cousin’s wedding in Salt Lake City and mourning the sudden loss of my grandmother back in Nashville, I hiked Lake Blanche Trail in Wasatch National Forest. I explored this trail two days after an incredible hiking experience on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake with my parents, and my beloved grandmother unexpectedly passed on the day in between these two hikes. The trails pass through vastly different environments, despite their proximity to each other. They lie on opposite sides of Salt Lake City, separated by an hour-long drive, but they may as well exist on two different planets. This profoundly resonated with me, and still does, because in the midst of simultaneous joy and tragedy, I felt very thinly stretched between two extreme states of mind. The severe highs and lows aggravated emotional wounds that hadn’t yet healed after losing my grandfather only three months earlier and a week after mine and Andy’s wedding celebration in Nashville. I can’t really describe the amount of joy that my wedding brought into my life at a time when I so desperately needed it. However, the grief of losing my grandfather at the same time, filled me with so many intense and conflicting emotions, and all of these returned in full force when my grandmother passed away the day before my cousin’s wedding.

Lake Blanche, frozen and magnificent beneath the gorgeous profile of Sundial Peak

My hike to Lake Blanche, on my cousin’s wedding day and in the immediate aftermath of my grandmother’s death, felt incredibly selfish. I can’t think of a more accurate way to describe how I felt about it as soon as my boots hit the dirt. I honestly don’t know if I process grief in a healthy way, but I do know that the part of sadness that I struggle with most is the suffocating weight of it. I need room to breathe and time alone to grieve, and this (unsurprisingly) can create an inadvertent distance that raises concern among people around me who rely on the community of loved ones to carry them through difficult times. I certainly appreciate the power of family and togetherness in times of joy and sorrow, but I have little faith in my ability to provide comfort to others when the burden of our collective grief makes all my words and actions feel so insignificant. So much sadness under one roof just makes me feel like we’re all being buried alive by circumstances beyond what we can control. Spending time alone outside helps me find the clarity and strength that I need to heal.

There’s so much about my experience on the trail to Lake Blanche that felt surreal, but I can say with unflinching certainty that I felt the presence of my grandparents on this hike. Maybe that feeling was just the result of wishful thinking during a time of immense vulnerability. They never hiked this trail, but I felt their presence there as strongly as I felt the crisp mountain wilderness around me. This hike was a deeply personal experience for me, and as a result, I’ve been on the fence about sharing it. However, I’ve learned that writing about my hikes, especially the ones I take while I’m experiencing significant life events off the trail, helps me process my thoughts and emotions in a more rational way. Hindsight from a comfortable distance often provides perspective that makes me feel just a little less crazy than I may have in the moment.

I shed my outer layer to pose for a photo taken by the one other hiker I saw at the crest above Lake Blanche. It seemed like a good idea at first, but it was also 20 degrees and very windy, so that lasted exactly as long as the photo op.

Logistically, the trail to Lake Blanche and back covers about 7 miles and almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain. This one burns the glutes, but it’s entirely beautiful. As the trail climbs, the views get bigger and the spaces between patches of sparkling snow and ice get smaller. Hiking here in late November, on the verge of winter, I felt grateful for the opportunity to experience this trail just days before it’d become indistinguishable beneath a thick blanket of snow. Snow and ice presented a challenge in some places, especially on the upper mile or so of trail, but I didn’t use crampons or microspikes and managed to stay upright with some careful foot placement when necessary. The weather forecast on the day after my hike predicted at least a couple of inches of snow, which would have complicated this hike that’s far from easy under the most ideal conditions. The opportunity to hike this trail, on what may very well have been the final day before winter truly encompassed the area, felt like a magnificent and much needed byproduct of divine intervention.

This one’s easily among my favorite photos from any of my hikes from 2019. This is the final segment of trail to the crest above Lake Blanche. The lake isn’t visible yet, but the tree line has faded into the background, and Sundial Peak dominates the skyline.

Start to finish, views of stunning peaks and serene woodlands surround the trail to Lake Blanche on all sides. Everything within sight, in every direction I turned, appeared to be so naturally and majestically flawless. The trail’s strenuous and rocky incline, combined with the altitude, exhausted my body. Mentally and spiritually, however, I’ve hardly ever felt more alive and energetic. AllTrails and many other sources rank the trail to Lake Blanche as one of Utah’s very best, which shouldn’t be taken lightly in a state that’s home to five national parks and some of the country’s most diverse environments. After experiencing this trail for myself, during a time of seasonal (and personal) transition nonetheless, I’m a believer. I can’t appropriately capture the trail’s immense natural beauty with words or photos.

Even the lower section of the trail provided breathtaking and snow speckled views of the Wasatch National Forest during the final days of Fall.

The trail offers plenty of panoramic mountain views on the way up, but Lake Blanche isn’t visible from the trail until its crest at nearly 9,000 feet. The frozen lake, sparkling beneath the mighty profile of Sundial Peak, comes into view all at once in a moment of triumph after a grueling ascent. That’s the moment when I felt the presence of my grandparents more strongly than any other on this hike. I heard their voices and felt the excitement in their cheers as my tired body finally emerged on the rocky terrain above the edge of the lake. They followed my hiking journey more closely than anyone and loved hearing stories from my experiences. They read every blog post and cherished the photos I’d send after every new hike. They traveled all over the world when they were healthy enough to do so, and I believe they saw something of themselves in me as I developed a similar passion for exploring new places. I believe that brought them joy, and I find comfort in knowing that their everlasting spirits can experience these wild and wonderful places with me now.

When it’s hard to find something to smile about, go outside.

The purity of the Wasatch National Forest and the trail to Lake Blanche that runs through it, somehow made me feel simultaneously vulnerable and invincible. I needed to feel vulnerable to open myself up to the healing process, and I needed to hike this very challenging trail by myself to affirm the strength and courage I’d rely on to carry me through the difficult days ahead. Adjusting to life without their physical presence hasn’t been easy, but the legacy they’ve left behind inspires me to continue writing my own adventure. And from this first adventure after grandmother’s death until the day when I take my final hike, I know they’ll be with me every step of the way.

The blazing sun manifests itself in most of my photos from this hike, and even in the sub-freezing temps, the sunlight warmed my body. I like to think my grandparents nudged God about keeping me warm, in that affectionate but really persistent way that only grandparents have.