Bash Bish

I had never walked into a state before. Along the NY/MA border there is a park named Mt. Washington State Forest, home to Bash Bish Falls. http://www.berkshireweb.com/sports/parks/bash.html Chris and I visited it on Saturday with our nephew, Cody. Several state-park-brown signs along the path down to the falls call out: "NO SWIMMING", but we pass several parties of visitors who are obviously wet. As we get nearer to the falls, we pass a notice board with a map and several news articles. The headlines go something like this: "Man in critical condition following fall at Bash Bish", "Woman dies from Bash Bish plunge Saturday night", "Student dies of injuries sustained at Bash Bish falls","Missing youth found drowned in river at Bash Bish". You get the picture. There were at least eight articles, spanning the past two years. At this point, I'm thinking- who is stupid enough to dive off of this waterfall when it is obviously so dangerous?

We walk on down the path and see before us the falls. Huge rocks jut out onto the river, and several people are standing around, taking photos, a boy dives into the pool through the waterfall. Above us loom even larger rocks. Water rushes in a steady, uniform fashion over the upper rocks and finds its way into a deep, calm pool below. It is a beautiful spot: fresh, clean, moist and green.

There is a young couple standing in bathing suits at the edge of the lower rocks at the edge of the pool (the ones in the photo). When they are not making out, they are looking up above at the high edge of the waterfall. I follow their gaze and see a young man climbing about on the angled ridge. Cody points, too. "Look," he says in mild disbelief. The climber is probably his age-- a teenager-- wearing only black shorts (no shoes). He must have climbed a considerable distance to reach the cliff through fairly dense woods. And he was slowly making his way to the edge of the rock, sometimes crawling on all fours to achieve the necessary balance. Even from below, his anxiety was obvious. He took very small steps. He frequently grabbed his (reluctant?) member, perhaps with the understanding that this could be the last time.

I could picture him plumeting. I could hear the "splat" that would be his body landing on the huge rocks below. He reached the edge and pumped his arms as Olympic divers do. He took a deep breath. I couldn't look and turned away. My ears listened for the "splat" but instead I heard a splash. I turned around. He was swimming up to the rock, apparently quite fine. This young man's blatant recklessness makes me very old, and incredibly superior!