The melting snow pack was producing some spectacular waterfalls in Nevada's Spring Mountains, and my friend Chuck suggested we hike up to Big Falls.
"It's only a couple miles," he said. "And a little scrambling."
He failed to mention the 900 foot elevation gain, and that the "scrambling" was up an increasingly steep and narrow canyon—around, in and through an icy stream.
Soon my sneakers were soaked, my ankle turned, and my little dog—along for the stroll—wet and exhausted. We clambered up a cliff and finally caught sight of the falls—still a half-mile away, across a steep valley and up a huge field of snow.
"It's beautiful," I said. "Let's turn back."
Chuck looked disappointed, but his feet, too, were wet. And he had forgotten his sandwich in the car.
Back we went. A more intrepid hiker shared this photo of what we had missed.
