I’m not usually a resentful person, but when there’s such a gem in my home region, I natu­rally want to capture it in photo­graphs. If I don’t succeed at first, it makes me all the more deter­mined. It can’t be that someone (in this case, me) can’t take great pictures in such a beau­tiful place, can it?

It has been a while since my first visit to this place. At that time, I wasn’t looking for great land­scape photos. It was just a little family outing where we hiked up this gorge. Back then, there were no steel bridges, and I don’t remember any steel cables for safety either. But I do remember the beau­tiful water­fall. Now, several years later, having deve­loped a keen inte­rest in nature and land­scape photo­graphy in parti­cular, it was clear that I had to return to this place, to this gorge. 

On my first attempt, which was already a little late, I made a beginner’s mistake. I had disre­garded the topo­logy and charac­te­ristics of the area. The water­fall does not actually carry water every day of the year. Espe­ci­ally when it has been dry for a long time, the gorge is dry. It had rained where we were, but not a few kilo­me­tres further on. Perhaps the little rain that had fallen was not enough to fill the gorge. So there I stood, in front of dry rock faces. At least the hike was easy to manage in dry conditions. 

The condi­tions were better on my second attempt. The water­fall was rushing. But the water­fall didn’t have quite as much water as I had hoped. I was also here on a Sunday, and many visi­tors were out and about in the gorge, enjoying good hiking condi­tions and not too much humi­dity. There wasn’t a minute when a hiker didn’t want to pass by, or stand in the picture, or, or, or. It’s not her fault. I could have been smarter, arrived earlier, or simply come here on another day.