Kevin Myatt | The Roanoke Times
The Cascades falls.
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- Location: On Route 623, 4 miles off U.S. Highway 460 at Pembroke (west of Blacksburg). Signs mark the way.
- Length: miles (4 round-trip)
- Elevation: Just over 1,300 feet at the trailhead to 2,140 at the waterfall.
- Gottasee factor (scenery, scale 0 to 4): 3.5:
- Gottabreathe factor (difficulty, scale 0 to 4): 2.5: Not a hard hike. A steady climb anyone should be able to do.
- Beware: Stay on the trail and behind rails on sections that rise up above the waterfall gorge. Also in this area, wet rocks from spray can make for dangerous footing, especially in icy weather.
- Of interest: Little Stony Creek, which flows over the ledge to create the nearly 70-foot waterfall labeled the Cascades, begins at Lone Pike Peak, a 4,054 foot summit accessible on the Appalachian Trail north of the famous Mountain Lake resort.
- Description: A typical creekside hike beside the mesmerizing music of tumbling water. There are actually routes on each side of the creek an old road bed to the left and the trail crossing a bridge to the right that rejoin just over a mile past the trailhead. This provides the opportunity for a partial loop hike. The creek's valley becomes a tighter gorge with high rock bluffs as the trail approaches the waterfall. While the Cascades Trail terminates at the waterfall's pool, the Conservancy Trail continues on bluffs above the waterfall. This trail continues for 4 miles, but merely climbing the rock steps will give one a different vantage point on the falls.
It was a dramatic moment when the 70-foot waterfall known as the Cascades suddenly appeared as I rounded a car-sized boulder along the creekside trail. But for me, it was the many little cascades on the way that made this hike so wonderful.
I'm a big fan of creekside trails, and this is one of the best around, as it crosses Little Stony Creek on a couple of fine wooden bridges, then closely follows the creek the rest of the way. The constant rush of water washed through my ears to clean all the worries out of my head. The creek splashes in, around, over and through a jumble of various-sized stones, ranging from pebbles to house-sized monoliths. And then after two miles of this paradise, the star attraction makes its appearance -- a steady stream of water pouring forcefully off a ledge onto ledges below, spreading out into ribbons of foamy white. I was impressed with the volume of water falling over this cliff. When I came here last January, it was more of a huge melting icicle than a waterfall.
Oct. 22 oozed with fall-ness. Fog and haze shrouded most of the longer views on the drive in, but the fog also added that damp, cool feeling that shouts autumn. As the 2-hour hike progressed, the sun eventually burned a few holes in the overcast, but the haze hung on, turning some of the more distant mountain ridges into gray blobs. It was a good day to see close-up wonders like creeks, trees and rocks, not a good day for long vistas. Temperatures hung in the 50s to lower 60s. Wearing shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt, I was the most thinly dressed hiker I saw. I had a hooded sweatshirt and a raincoat in the pack, but needed neither.
The Little Stony Creek Valley was a little past its peak foliage. Many trees had already lost their leaves, and with every puff a wind, others showered leaves upon the trail. Still, enough color, particularly golden yellows, was left to brighten up a blue-gray day. Rhododendron and hemlock added a steady flavor of green to the mix.
Here's how popular this hike is: When I got to the trailhead at 9:30 a.m., there were nine cars, counting mine; by 11:30, when I finished the hike, there were 53!
I was glad I got an early enough start to avoid the rush. Although I met several families and small groups heading in as I was headed out, I had lots of time along the trail when no one else was in sight. About half of the hikers I saw had a dog along, as I did, and that meant obligatory respites to touch noses and sniff other bodily locations. The dogs doing those things, that is.
As I walked from the trailhead to start the hike, I was greeted by the familiar call of the Eastern phoebe. This little brown bird with a white belly and a frenetic bobbing tail became a friend of mine when I lived in a cabin on a hilltop in the Arkansas Ozarks. "Feee-breee," it called, alternating the pitch of the last syllable. These birds build mud nests in the spring, mostly on the walls of cliffs and caves. As I saw the huge rock chunks and the big bluffs along the way as the creek valley narrowed toward the waterfall, I could understand why this bird was at home here. I also spotted some slate-colored juncoes -- snowbirds, foretelling the season to come.
It was the chirping ground squirrels that demanded my dog's attention. Cindy is only about 30 pounds, but she's strong with all the hiking she's got to do. She nearly dragged me from the leash as she took off in a mad dash to try and catch these little critters, busy storing away nuts here in these last few warmish days before winter arrives.
I returned along the old road above the creek. That provided an almost entirely different viewpoint. The creek was still making its music, but much farther below, but the high road presented some foggy vistas out through the creek valley to other mountains, a visit to an overhanging cliff, and much more fall color.
My favorite scene from this hike: Besides the waterfall itself, there was one place I stopped and just absorbed the setting. A 5-foot waterfall plunged between boulders, and the stream then tumble over some other shoals. The rocks in the stream were covered by moss sprinkled with yellow, red, orange and brown fallen leaves. New leaves floated down to the rushing stream, some collecting in a pool where the leaves formed a floating collage.
Scenes like this just ooze in my blood. It was, after all, an October along another stream bank in another state where I caught a full dose of the hiking bug.
