Thirty feet off a low shelf, and suddenly the falls come fast: Lower North Falls is the opener to a tight run packed into a short stretch of the North Fork, what you might call waterfall alley, where one drop is nearly in sight of the next. So don't burn the whole camera battery here. This one is wide and even, more curtain than column, fanning across the rock in a single bright sheet rather than tearing through a notch, the lip so level the water leaves it all at once. That flatness is exactly why it spreads instead of plunges. Feel the air go cooler and wetter on your arms as the canyon pools the chill the falls throws off. You've reached the part of this trail people cross three states to walk, and from here on, the water only gets louder.
Slow your boots here. The water dropping just ahead, off that low shelf, is Lower North Falls — thirty feet, and the first of a tight run of falls packed into a short stretch of the North Fork. Call it waterfall alley. From here on they come fast, one nearly in sight of the next, so don't let your camera burn its whole battery on this opener. This drop is wide and even, more curtain than column, fanning across the rock in a single bright sheet rather than tearing through a notch. Run your eye along that lip — see how level it is, how the water leaves all at once. That flatness is why this one spreads instead of plunges. Feel the air on your arms, cooler and wetter than it was a minute ago? That's the canyon pooling the chill the falls throws off. Step to the side of the tread, give the next hikers room, and take a breath. You've reached the part of this trail people cross three states to walk. From here on, the water only gets louder.
