Falling

It's been 20 years since I've been here, I think as I make a left into the parking lot. By now it's probably an over-trafficked hellhole littered with trash, cigarette butts and empty bottles of Gatorade.

Imagine my surprise.

It's July 4th, and this time I'm at Ricketts Glen State Park, about 25 miles north of Bloomsburg, Pa. Ten minutes into hiking something called the Falls Trail, I realize it's quite possibly more pristine than when I was 12: lush, reasonably untamed, peaceful. It's one of the most incredible places I've ever hiked. The 7.5-mile trail unfolds beneath my feet in no time. I creep behind waterfalls, stumble upon a baby snapping turtle and meet a talkative local who gladly shares the secret to finding trout in a rock-strewn stream ... not that I have any reason to find them, other than just to look at them.

The largest waterfall on the trail -- Ganoga Falls, if I remember correctly -- measures 94 feet from top to bottom. Niagara it's not, but there's much less neon. What's amazing is that one could easily lose his footing and plummet to his death on the exposed trail, which is often soaked as it winds between the falls. And no one's stopping you. I can't think of a better definition of freedom than the ability to hang over the edge of a waterfall without someone telling me I can't do it. I think: Happy Fourth of July.

You hear so much about therapy and meditation and the need to wind down. Me? I do some of my best thinking while hiking by myself in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing to get in the way, nothing to keep the brain from doing its job. And it's amazing that you can still go somewhere and, for 10 minutes straight, hear nothing but birds chirping, leaves rustling and the ground crunching beneath your feet ... oh, and the sound of water streaming down a face of jagged stone.

Do yourself a favor: Find a backpack, load it up with a few bottles of water and something with which to fill your stomach, and head to this gem in south-central Pennsylvania.