I awoke this morning to the sounds of birds twittering outside the window as the eighteen inches of snow that fell mid-week slid from the roof as the sun warmed it. Spring is just around the corner, but winter is still here, as the bomb-cyclone storm reminded us. Fern Falls is one of the more spectacular falls in the Park, on a north facing slope, so I expected the usual winter appearance of a falls. Small sections of falling water surrounded by cathedral-like ice and soft pillowy mounds of snow, undercut by a continual sound track of flowing water under ice.
A few miles hike in from the road’s winter closure, and I couldn’t have been more mistaken. Without knowledge of Fern Falls existence, you couldn’t have guessed it was there. It’s been a good winter, one that buries the Falls of seasons past in a hibernation of snow.