We have wanted to visit Palouse for years. And years. It all sounds so spectacular, so amazing. So remote. And after the beauty of Dayton, we were on the way.

The road to Palouse Falls State Park is an adventure in its own right. We drove US 12 from Dayton to SR 261. For people like us who are bothered by heights and narrow, shoulderless roads, this perfectly safe paved road gets a reaction. Nervous hyper-vigilance seems appropriate. After turning off onto Palouse Falls Road, the ride gets bumpier. The road is a rutty gravel lane, badly beaten by sightseers and late night partiers. Arriving at the falls parking are, we encountered a mess of cars parked to avoid the entry fee or purchase of a Discover Pass. After checking our expired pass, we joined them, sliding our IQ into a tight but adequate spot.

Worn paths criss-crossed the park. People were everywhere. Off across the canyon, the ledges above the falls were lined with people looking down the falls in what must be a spectacular view. People were ascending and descending trails and hillsides. A few had made it down along the river, walking in the spray of the falls. A discussion of two or three words and we firmly decided that, given the crowds and the conditions, we would take our views from behind the safety fence.

On February 12, 2014, Palouse Falls was declared the official waterfall of Washington State by action of the Washington State House of Representatives. One can hope the park will soon get some attention and needed upgrades equal to its status.The falls is spectacular with silt-laden water falling 198 feet.  Usually unnoticed is a twenty foot upper falls, located about 1,000 feet northwest of the main falls. Four miles downstream from the falls, the Palouse enters and becomes one with the  Snake River.

We watched the mists flying off the plunging tumult of water. Streaks of rainbow formed and disappeared. And the flow continued, unbothered by the seasons and ages. The river has moved, it’s original course now a dry coulee. But the water has remained.

I often wish I could see a speeded up movie of millennia long events. You know, like the films of rose buds opening or corn popping out of the ground and reaching seven foot maturity  a minute and fifty-four seconds later. The successions of lava flows—the Grand Ronde and the Wanapum basalt formations, the recurring filling and rupturing of the Missoula Floods: That would definitely be a two bagger.