2022-04-02: Falling Waters Falls

In the endless search for interesting places to visit at college in the flat Florida panhandle, I discovered that I was only about an hour from the highest waterfall in the state. At 73 feet in height, the single-drop waterfall descends into a limestone sinkhole in a display that promised to be much more exciting than I usually expected from Florida. On somewhat of a whim, a friend and I decided to head out and investigate the feature.

Upon arriving at the state park, we were met with a series of various trails, some paved, some dirt, leading not only to the waterfall, but also through the surrounding features in the vaguely hilly landscape of west Florida. We headed first to a series of lesser sinkholes along the side of the creek, some leading to caverns underground.

A historical marker near the parking area describes the history of the park and waterfall.

One of the larger sinkholes, inaccessible from the trail, leads down into unexplorable darkness.

A closer look inside the shadowy sinkhole reveals mosses and ferns growing in the darkness.

A small rocky cave near the waterfall. Many small features like this dotted the landscape around the falls.

The trail wrapped through these sinkholes to the Falling Waters Sink, the deep, well-like pit in the ground into which the falls descend. This was the first, and by far the most impressive, of three overlooks around the falls. The platform extended close enough to the waterfall to feel the spray of the water, allowing us to look directly down into the pit from sixty feet above.

A portrait-oriented view of the waterfall depicts the roughly one-third of its length located above ground.

A view focused on the top of the falls, where the tiny creek suddenly and abruptly collapses.

Looking down into the sink, where the falls' diffuse spray lands and is carried underground. Some garbage had also been thrown in by inconsiderate visitors.

A wider view of the upper half of the falls and mossy limestone beneath.

Water rushes down the blackened rock beneath young ferns and spring bushes.

Years of erosion have carved pits into the limestone behind the falls.

A webcam to monitor the falls is well-hidden in the trees above the observation platform.

More cracks in the lichen-covered rock behind the misty spray.

A view level with the falls from the steps above the overlook.

This was one of two 'picture posts' that we found in the park, meant for visitors to assist the state in documenting seasonal and long-term changes in the foliage. I took pictures at both posts.

Several other trails lead around the falls to some other overlooks. The first path we took headed back towards the parking area, where a platform on the east side of the waterfall provided a more distant, almost aerial view. From here the trail wrapped around, crossing the river upstream of the falls, where it is just a tiny stream.

A view of the upper half of the falls from above, showing how the creek widens at it approaches the drop.

A closer shot through the trees, looking down on the moss-darkened rock.

The park's surroundings are covered in forests of longleaf pine (Pinus palustris), an endangered species native to the southeast and Gulf Coast.

On the west side of the creek, the trail split off in several areas, including a rocky herdpath that headed up a hill. Falling Waters State Park is home to one of Florida's highest hills, only a few dozen miles from the state highpoint, so we headed up this path out of curiosity. After a defensive deer chased us off, we returned continued on to the third overlook, an even higher (and even more distant) view over the now-distant waterfall.

A boardwalk leads through the hilly, uneven terrain west of the river. A campground lies atop the hill to the right.

A Florida deer (Odocoileus viginianus subsp. seminolus) cranes its neck to make eye contact with me through the woods. This deer was likely a doe protecting her young in the fawning season, as it made repeated snorting sounds and motions, warning me to stay away.

A farewell view of the waterfall's top from the west side of the river.

Pink azalea bushes (Rhododendron periclymenoides) cover the forest's understory, and we were fortuitous to arrive when they were in bloom.

Retracing our steps past an abandoned oil drill site, we continued on past the parking area and came across a lake at a bit higher elevation. We stopped at another witness post and some nice areas on the shoreline to admire the pond, but swimming campers and alligator warning signs kept us from lingering too long.

A wooden outpost on the pond hosts some sort of rusted pumping mechanism. The pond is artificial, and thus requires some minimal level of maintenance.

A view from a wooden overlook spot. The sparse forest on the far side is full of campsites (mostly empty), and the roped-off area to the right is reserved for swimming.

A blackberry flower (Rubus pennsilvanicus, at the southern extent of its range) blooms along the shoreline of the lake.

Warning signs along the swimming area seek to inform non-natives (such as ourselves) of the potential danger posed by alligators. One dangerous wildlife run-in was enough for us.

This tiny little yellow stargrass flower (Hypoxis hirusta) pokes out its head from the mulch-like forest floor some distance from the lake.

With the park's attractions seen, we returned to the car and headed back to campus for the weekend. For me at least the trip was a much needed - and much delayed - break from routine and exposure to fresh air.