Klonie Jordan (editor@gaffneyledger.com) is the executive editor of The Gaffney Ledger. So the missus and I recently took a few days off from work. We didn't go to any place exotic, didn't see any fancy sculptures or cathedrals or get gondoliered on any historic canals, although we did ride one of those little boats shaped like a duck that you pedal like a bicycle.

My wife was intrigued by this brochure which described a number of waterfalls in the area where we were staying in the mountains.

Hey, I love the great outdoors as much as the next guy, especially if I can watch it on The Discovery Channel and not actually have to go out and hike around in it.

But my wife wanted to venture to this one particular waterfall. The brochure made it sound lovely, sort of like the opening scenes in Fantasy Island or one of those documentaries about Hawaii.

So we set the old GPS device in the old SUV and off we went to find this waterfall. We made all the turns mandated by the voice from the GPS receiver - "turn right at the next intersection … I said RIGHT you idiot … no, not here … YOUR OTHER RIGHT …"

As we neared the waterfall site, there was a sign that read, paraphrasing here, "Reaching the waterfall requires a hike of .5 to .7 miles."

What?

I didn't know this was going to involve hiking.

At the start of the trail there was a sign that warned us of the potential presence of copperheads. There it was, bolted to a post, big as life. It even had a picture of a large copperhead on it. Now I don't know about you, but nothing encourages me to walk around in the woods more than a sign warning that there are probably venomous snakes slithering around.

Oh, and that wasn't the ONLY sign. On up the trail, which, by the way, was WAY MORE STEEP than I had envisioned, there was another sign warning that there could also be rattlesnakes in the area. The sign said that rattlesnakes won't bother you if you don't bother them, but, the sign said, the rattlesnakes would defend themselves if they felt threatened. What? Like if you pull a knife on 'em?

Still, with our non-snakeproof shoes, we continued our climb. There was an additional warning, this time about bears.

"So this is how it ends," I said to my wife. "We get eaten by a bear."

"These are black bears," she scoffed. "They don't eat meat. They eat berries and honey and things like that."

"Oh," I replied. "They'll eat me. 'Cause I have a creamy nougat center."

We eventually reached the waterfall. I don't know if it would have been worth getting snakebitten or mauled by a bear, but it was definitely worth the hike. It was absolutely beautiful. If only it had been located closer to the highway.

And we didn't see any snakes or bears.

By the way, there was a sign at the waterfall warning visitors that if you wandered off the trail, you could be killed. It actually said, "People have been killed here …" or words to that effect.

We made it back to the car safely and I got to thinking. At some point in the past, some person or persons might not have been as lucky as we were and probably encountered one or more of the dangers that the signs warned about. I'll bet there was an incident in which a tourist wandered off the trail, fell down the waterfall to the razor sharp rocks below and while trying to drag his broken and bloody body to safety, he fell into a pit of rattlesnakes and copperheads and was bitten several times. But he was still able to get back on the trail, only to be eaten by a family of bears that had decided, just that very morning, to "let's try some meat today, you know, just to see how it tastes."