Cedar Creek Falls

From the insides of eyelids, water in San Diego means ocean curls and margarita rocks. Waterfalls typically don't come into focus, particularly when you're told that they're miles inland thought mountains and desert. But that's what the good book proclaims -- that after driving an hour inland though mountain passes and edging along loosely defined tracks will yield a 3 mile hike to waterfalls. We parked here. Some joke.

With some of the recent winter storms, the desert admittedly had seen some rainfall, and the flora was eating it up. This poor guy had managed to hold it's breath for a full year and now could finally inhale the rains.

This green plant wasn't doing as well...but...wait. Waterfall tracks? In the distance? There wasn't any water, but there might have been waterfalls at some time. The good book also says there was water once on Mars too, but I didn't come here to look at water fossils. Onward!

In case there isn't water, I'm taking pictures of anything reasonably cool in a swathing heat of brown and rocks. Another plant.

Another shrub-like palm-like plant.

Suddenly, something familiar crept around the corner of the mountain. Greenery? Grassery?

Although most of the covering was nothing more than a mossy fuzz, the mountainside undertook a greenish hue.

Taking the high road, we found water! Water! Surely this is what Christopher Columbus worked up to before discovering the Americas. First he discovered his boots, and then the Atlantic. I consider these small victories in my own sake.

Well, there was water, and there were trees supported by the water, but nothing was falling. All we heard was a meager roar downstream.

Climbing over a ridge, we could see Cedar Creek's waterfall for all of its glory. The good book was right. Now, all we have to do is scale down the steep ridge to actually get to the fallpoint.

On our way sliding and grappling down the ridge, the waterfall lay between the rocks...carving it's path even deeper.

Nearing the bottom was a private enclave receiving admission.

Life downstream.

This is the large pool the waterfall dumps into. A sole tree on the other side smirked while waving its leafless branches.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Cedar Creek in freefall. Although it may not be a waterfall, you have to admit that there is magic when even a small rabbit comes out of a hat.

After a good rest at the bottom, we heard that following the creek downstream, or downcreek to be politically correct, led to a path back up. Let no one quote the good book as wrong...they do exist.

Traipsing water and rocks for flatland.

A nice winter hike.

A tree over a reflecting pool.

Suddenly, the path began the unexpected. After hours of downward scramble, the return hike started to incline. This was statistically unlikely going downward for so long. Stupid statistics.

If you look very closely at the prominent hill on the right, roughly halfway you can see a nitch where the path cuts into the side. Getting there would be about halfway back to the truck. Good thing we didn't know how crushed our spirits were before starting the climb.

Driving back, the grassy plateaus atop the Laguna Mountains.

I guess we weren't the only turkeys in the mountains that day.

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