The mouth of the canyon yawned wide into a sleepy Owens Valley. My soles crunched and chewed at tiny tan-gray pebbles as I moved, but it was the gate’s granite incisors rising, sharp and clean that held my gaze. These fangs looked ominous and predatory as the day’s new light amplified the jagged topography.

I stood at the end of the dirt entrance road, feeling small, like a bit of spittle about this long strand of earthen floss used to glean the high mountain mines years ago. Shadows cast long by the low sun pointed the way west, steep and trail-less, and as I moved, tepid yet eager, that part of me that always needed to know what’s around the next corner wandered far ahead into the unknown.

A stream that ran the length of the canyon babbled as it fell and drowned out all but the loudest rivals. Past the ramble of the creek I made out a gusty wind within distant tree branches and the percussive thump, thump within my chest, which I felt, more than heard.

Further ahead a string of heart-shaped tracks told of deer headed down into the warmer valley for the night. Were they followed? I took a deep breath and scanned the rocks for a cat’s golden eyes upon me before continuing deeper into the narrowing canyon’s mouth.

So smooth was the water-polished granite that crossing the creek’s fluted banks was not to be taken lightly. But jumping was known, measurable, and I leaped with little thought to the other side. I stopped again to listen. The babble echoed from the steep walls and as I moved ahead, grew to a scream—this little creek roared and yelled and mixed with my mind into a chilled uneasiness.

Blood-warm adrenaline flowed fresh, and I thought of heading back, but the path ahead took a sharp left and again my mind wandered ahead to have a look. I stood for a moment, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I saw no way forward but to traverse a steep face to my right, but this too was something known.

I moved over the smooth stone with practiced confidence amidst the booming stream, and when I finally turned to see what all the shouting was about, my eyes filled with autumn splendor. A single cottonwood in full, year-end display stood golden at the base of a stunning waterfall.