The dangers of youth
If you could head directly west out of Gordon County, through Chattooga County, and then across the state line into Alabama’s DeKalb County, you would run into the Little River Canyon National Preserve, a beautiful stretch of land where the lovely and aptly named Little River snakes its way southwest.
Where the river flows under Highway 35 you can find Liver River Falls, a 45-foot-tall cascade-type falls that overwhelms the whole stretch of canyon wall in the early spring and retreats to a more modest, yet still impressive, flow during the hotter months.
The falls, I learned just this week, set a record water flow of more than 11,000 cubic feet per second in April of 2014. The falls also mark the beginning of Little River Canyon.
If you were to drive there today, you would find a nice parking lot, bathrooms and a paved walkway that leads down to an observation deck. Access to the falls is blocked by a fence, but folks still wander out onto the upper shelve of the canyon that lies under the highway bridge that spans the canyon gap. There’s also a trail that will take you down to the bottom, where a wide pool tempts swimmers to take a dip.
When I was a kid, however, none of those things that welcome visitors existed. Back then you would park on a shoulder of the road and then bushwack through the woods to access the shallow swimming holes on the upper shelves that were safely away from the falls.
I remember belly-crawling to the edge of the canyon and nervously peaking over the edge, and then gawking in disbelieve as my mom would tell us how our uncles used to leap from the canyon to the water below.
Those guys must have been nuts! Fast forward a few years and a gravel parking lot had been built and a proper trail cut for visitors to make their way down to the falls.
It was a popular spot for swimmers when I was a teen, and, you might have seen this coming, my friends and I would frequently jump from the top of the falls to the water below.
We must have been nuts!
Those days at Little River remain some of my fondest memories from my youth, but what we were doing back then was dangerous and inherently unwise. Enough people have died in the years since that the park strictly forbids jumping from the cliff, and people who do so anyway are subject to serious fines.
The things is, we knew it was dangerous. The fall was long enough that if you forgot to bring your arms tight against your body as you hit the water you would be left some painful bruising (never mind if you forgot to keep your ankles close together — ouch!). One part of the pool below was known to have a whole tree not-so-deep under the water, so you had to be cautious and aim your descent around that.
But still we jumped. I personally knew a classmate who cracked a vertebrae in her neck after hitting the water at an awkward angle.
But still we jumped.
I watched a guy slip while scaling the canyon wall (the only way back to the top lest you preferred a lengthy hike on your bare feet) and break an ankle. A buddy and I helped push and pull this dude to the top, then rushed to a nearby store to call for help because cell phone service was shoddy in those woods back then. But still we jumped.
My own niece fell into the river and went over the edge of the canyon, thankfully at a point where a second shelf exists, meaning her fall was closer to 15 feet than 45. She had to be airlifted for care and still wears the scars from the terrible experience to this day.
But still we jumped.
I’ve been thinking about the dumb things I did as a teenager ever since I listened to the speakers at the Gordon County Chamber of Commerce’s Lunch and Learn event, during which three people spoke about drug issues, including the dangers associated with vaping.
Vaping, despite the obvious risks, is an increasingly popular habit among middle and high school students, and officials have been making efforts to combat that through education. It’s a great and important cause and I hope every student that sees one of those presentations takes it seriously.
But I fear many won’t.
The best we can do keep talking and teaching and warning and hope something sticks. We may not be able to change all the minds, but even one who walks away from a dangerous habit is a victory, so keep up the effort.