You’ve heard the song before. In fact, at some point it may have even lodged itself in your subconscious as an unshakable earworm.
“Don’t go chasing waterfalls,” it cautions.
No chasing waterfalls? Why the hell not?
As powerful forces of nature, waterfalls represent a plurality of deeper meanings. Notably, they symbolize unharnessed elemental motion and connote a sense of permanence despite continual change and movement: While rapids may fluctuate and water levels may rise and fall, the structural integrity of a waterfall remains constant.
However, waterfalls have also been used to indicate that which is powerful, mesmerizing, and ultimately futile. In the song “Chasing Waterfalls,” TLC expresses the numerous pitfalls that can result when individuals blindly chase unattainable dreams[1]. Indeed, while the song sounds pleasant enough, it is actually incredibly grim and admonishing in nature. The first verse depicts a fraught mother-son relationship where the mother cautions her son to quit following an elusive, deeply misguided dream that will never yield true happiness. In other words, she knows “chasing waterfalls” won’t ultimately get him where he wants to go in life and is striving to help him see what he cannot. This verse transitions into the chorus’ plea:
“Don’t go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to
I know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at all
But I think you’re moving too fast.”
Kind of intense, right? Who knew nature could pack so much emotional punch?
But chasing elusive dreams need not be inherently bad. And chasing waterfalls need not be purely metaphorical. Let us consider yet another potential interpretation: Waterfalls as pathways for unexplored opportunity.
A couple weeks ago I was in the midst of the most exciting part of my day—going downstairs to get the mail, duh—when I received the most recent edition of The Mpls.St. Paul Magazine. I started my subscription with Mpls.St.Paul a few months ago in a premeditated effort to both ward off inevitable quarantine boredom and give me something to look forward to every month (hence my excitement surrounding all things USPS). When scrolling through the publication I came across a particular segment that readily caught my attention. The article, “Chasing Waterfalls,” outlined a series of six different natural wonders that reside within the Minneapolis-St. Paul city limits and challenged readers to embark on a sort of natural treasure hunt by exploring the natural gems tucked between an otherwise urban environment. Written on the premise that other water-focused plans—such as visiting beaches and pools—are indefinitely canceled for the summer, the magazine presented a creative alternative intended to help readers “go with the flow” and “find new waters to appreciate.”
Immediately, I was intrigued. Cam and I have visited the iconic Minnehaha Falls on numerous occasions—including during a few glorious long bike rides—but I had never really stopped to consider the fact that other waterfalls might exist within the cities’ limits. I promptly earmarked the magazine page, and together Cam and I started mapping out what was sure to be an epic quarantine-inspired adventure.
We agreed to start with the familiar. Therefore, our first stop took us back to Minnehaha Falls, where we relished the sound of thunderous water while standing beneath an impressive canopy of verdant trees. As I mentioned in a previous post, “Here Comes the ‘Sunglow,’” water from the Chain of Lakes makes its way southeast to form this impressively vocal waterfall that roars with a humbling intensity. During this visit the park was flooded with nature lovers itching to enjoy time away from their homes, and yet, despite the crowds, this waterfall is proof that nature could not be more grand.
The fact that this site was familiar didn’t lessen the beauty of our first stop; in fact, it only made us more excited for the subsequent five waterfalls waiting to be discovered. Onward!
Our next visit took us from Minneapolis to St. Paul: We drove several miles, crossed the Mississippi, and arrived at Crosby Farm Regional Park in no time at all. Neither of us had heard of this park before, and, as a result, we decided to follow the directions outlined in the magazine to a tee:
“Two miles east of Hidden Falls, Crosby Farm (2595 Crosby Farm Rd., St. Paul) holds a secret ribbon of waterfall. Start in the small circular parking lot just southwest of where I-35 hits Shepard Road, and take the unpaved trail on the north side of Crosby Lake. Look for an outflow and a narrow sandstone canyon to the right. If you hit a party cave, you’ve gone too far (or maybe just the right distance).”
The only problem was this setup—at least as it was described in the magazine—didn’t actually exist. We had entered the given address into our GPS, but there was no “small circular parking lot” to be found. Befuddled, we parked on the side of the road to check and crosscheck our location with the directions provided and yet still could not make sense of where we were intended to go based on the map. Ultimately, we decided the journalist must have mistakenly confused her cardinal directions—for, of course, there was no way we were misreading the instructions—and parked the car in a non-circular lot nowhere close to the aforementioned location. From there, we pursued one of the charmingly unmarked wooded trails with the thought that a quick jaunt would inevitably lead us to our watery destination. After all, our visit to Minnehaha Falls was as simple as parking in a paved lot, crossing the street, and then walking a few hundred steps until we encountered a waterfall of epic proportions: How dissimilar could this second stop be?
Right?
Oh, how wrong we were.
For starters, nothing about this trail was “unpaved,” and yet no visible alternatives presented themselves as alternate options. It didn’t help that nothing was marked, the park providing approximately zero guidance on where trails led or what destinations might be reached. Undeterred, Cam and I gamely blazed ahead, confident we could piece things together while enjoying this unexplored new territory. We walked for about fifteen minutes before reaching the banks of the Mississippi. We saw this as promising, as if there was flowing water, then a waterfall might not be too far away.
We continued on our path, delving deeper and deeper into the
woods and further and further away from any and all signs of human life. Before long, we had somehow lost sight of the
Mississippi altogether and were now situated squarely in the middle of a
densely wooded forest with no waterfall.
The good news was that we had now reached “the north side of
Crosby Lake” and were finally treading an “unpaved” path, so, despite our obvious
misgivings, we boldly trekked forward with the optimistic delusional vindication
that we were finally on the right track.
Two hours and several miles later, we had yet to encounter said waterfall[2]. In fact, where there had once been too many trails to choose from, now we plodded forward wholly uncertain if we were traversing ground that was intended to be traversed at all. “We agree this is still a path, right?” was the question we continually hot-potatoed back and forth, each of us not fully convinced of the veracity behind our question yet simultaneously searching for some desperate form of confirmation.
In addition to this ambiguity, we encountered a series of what looked to be lean-tos that only exacerbated our overall puzzlement and confusion. Where were we? Did this waterfall truly exist, or was some journalist at MSP Magazine getting a full-bellied laugh for sending us on what had become a veritable wild goose chase? Regardless of the answer, we decided we had given it a good solid effort and should revisit our quest at a later date—once we had some time to pour over Google maps and recuperate from the unrelenting sun. We didn’t ultimately find a waterfall for stop number two, but we certainly gave ourselves a half point for effort.
1.5 waterfalls down, four to go!
For our third stop we drove two miles down the road and arrived at Hidden Falls Regional Park. As depicted in the magazine, “Hidden Falls lies just below Mississippi River Boulevard. But once you reach the babbling water, St. Paul feels much farther away.” Boy, was this true. This time, much as we had originally anticipated, our journey was only a quick jaunt from the paved parking lot before we encountered a tree-covered oasis and magnificent waterfall. We were awestruck by the remote nature of Hidden Falls—I could have sworn I was in a Hawaiian rainforest—and utterly mesmerized by the “blue green” water and the calming effect it had on us. Yes, our last stop had been mildly frustrating, but this destination made all efforts worth it.
Sun-tired and decidedly low on water, we decided Shadow Falls would be our last stop for the afternoon. While we initially had grand ambitions of crossing all six waterfalls off our scavenger hunt, we agreed it would be more rewarding to regroup and finish off the remaining Minneapolis-based stops at a later, more refueled date. Therefore, we set off, following the curve of the Mississippi and parking near the University of St. Thomas. As the magazine (this time correctly directed), we headed “right (facing the river) from the WWI monument overlook” and “followed the dirt trail down the hill.” Similar to our last stop, this seemed simple enough. The only problem was that a recent downpour had turned this “dirt trail” into a mud swamp, transforming this quick, easy hike into a perilous, herculean endeavor. We slid, scooted, and swam our way through the dense clay, fighting the unrelenting natural force that threatened to suck our shoes straight off our feet. Despite the hazardous path before us, I was resolved: We would visit this waterfall. A few hundred yards further my determination paid off: Once again we had encountered a stunning natural exhibit subtly tucked amidst the folds of civilization!
At the end of the day, we visited 3.5 of the six waterfalls we had originally set out to find. Was it a perfect sweep? No. Were there some tangents and missteps along the way? Absolutely. However, Cam and I spent an enjoyable afternoon exploring largely uncharted territory, reaping the benefits of both urban jungle and natural sanctuary while unearthing hidden gems right in our own backyard! This scavenger hunt forced us out of the house, encouraged us to explore local attractions we might not otherwise visit, and reframe our understanding of what “fun” could look like in a COVID-19 world. Muddy, slightly sunburnt, and wholly satisfied, we returned home to crack a few cold beers and fondly recount our thrilling afternoon adventure.
TLC cautions “don’t go chasing waterfalls,” and, within the context of this song, I whole heartedly agree. There’s no need to misguidedly follow false dreams that will ultimately leave you emptier than when you started. This type of pursuit is as unhealthy as it is fruitless, and it has no business being grouped with the beautiful power of true, authentic dream chasing.
However, if the “waterfall” you are chasing—figurative or
literal—is a dream that will push you out of your comfort zone, broaden your
perspective of what is possible, and ultimately prompt you to pursue something
greater than yourself? Then by all
means, lace up your shoes, put on your sunscreen, and go get that waterfall! You’ve got nothing to lose!
[1] Hmm… Remind you of anything? This is starting to sound an awful lot like my analysis of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most famous character in my post “Gatsby Believed in the ‘Green’ Light.” Coincidence? I think not!
[2] Wait a second… What if TLC’s “Chasing Waterfalls” is at once figurative and literal in its cautionary message? What if the musical group is warning against pursuing physical waterfalls that don’t ultimately exist in order to parallel the pitfalls that result when individuals blindly chase unattainable dreams? A waterfall within a waterfall: That would be major waterfall-Inception! Woah.
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