How I'm kind of like Kate from Lost, only without Jack

This week I discovered my new favorite getaway. It all started out normally; I was in a plane, headed to LAX, when all of a sudden we hit a lot of turbulence and the next thing I know I'm waking up in the woods. And okay, so it was more like I was riding in a Toyota east on highway 22, and instead of ending up at Opal Creek like I thought, I ended up on the side of a road, finding myself treading down a poorly maintained path that lead to the most perfect swimming hole in my fair state. Behold: Salmon Falls.

 The stranger in the seat next to me was Heidi, my cousin's girlfriend, who has nearly no survival skills, but good instincts. The small falls boasted water so clear you could see the bottom, even though it was 30 feet deep. I felt both like I was the first person to ever visit this place, and also like I was intruding upon someone's sacred swimming hole, if that makes sense. Immediately I ran back to the beach, er, town, to get the amazing and beautiful Casey.

The three of us enjoyed a day of unemployment/semi-employment/denial of the pending future at this lovely spot. I scanned the cliff and scenery for evidence of an old, crashed plane, but found none. No polar bears either. While paddling across the glorious water in either inner tubes or a mini raft, I stared at the bottom of the pool in search of a body, treasure chest, or other items of interest. I found none, but that doesn't mean there isn't still something waiting.

We saw a lot of people jumping off the rocks, but falling great depths is not really my thing, so I was most excited about exploring this cavern where water rushed out. If the water tunnel through the side of the cliff wasn't created naturally, I'm pretty sure it wass made or at least improved upon by the Dharma Initiative. Paddling against the current was difficult and took much time, but finally we got to the cement walls and had something to hang on to.

You can't really see the cavern from this angle, but do you see that cement brick wall thing with the pipe? Horace Goodspeed made that.

 My deepest desire was to go up the mouth of the tunnel, against the churning water, despite my fear of drowning and of all places dark and creepy. Through advanced team work and collaboration, Casey, Heidi, and I slowly made our way up the different levels of the tunnel. I really wish I could show you pictures, but this was not a place that allowed for tourist-like snapshots or fanny packs. We clung close to the walls, where the current wasn't as strong and didn't threaten to suck us under.

If I were to have all the equipment my heart desired, I would go back armed with rope, a headlight, and my grappling gear. As it was, all we had were two inner tubes, a child raft, and later, a helpfully long stick. Plus, you know, we had three brilliant minds and the desire to reach the unknown.

After as much exploration as we could manage, we shot out of the cavern with the current clinging to our floatation devices. It's not as easy as it sounds, because the first time I tried to go out in my raft, the mini falls of the third level tried to suck me down, not spit me out. We emerged from the cavern alive, happy, and full of accomplishment.

Casey had enough guts to jump from one of the cliff levels, and it looked quite exciting in real life, though I know if I were to try it I would end up swallowing water, having an anxiety attack, and drowning in front of like, thirty strangers. And that's embarrassing.

We took a few snack breaks, and I was really hoping a doctor or a man named Jack would appear and ask me to stitch up his back, but it never happened. Probably a good thing too, because I left my sewing kit at home.

I later saw a fellow in a yellow hazmat suit emerging from a door, and I thought maybe it was Desmond on break from button pushing, because he said "Hey brotha" to me, but it ended up just being a guy using the pit-toilet bathroom, which might as well have been a bio-hazard. I was a little jealous of non-Desmond's mask when I had to use the facilities later.

Casey, Heidi, and I left at about five o'clock. On our drive back down to civilization we passed a blue VW van with a large, long-haired, joyful looking man in the front. No big deal.