62: Transition Zone

Great Falls, Virginia

G R E A T   F A L L S,  V A

The town of Great Falls, Virginia, in the suburbs of the nation’s capital, represents this: extreme wealth intersecting some of the coolest geography along the east coast. 

By varying measures, Great Falls is one of the most exclusive, wealthiest, and expensive places to live in the entire country… or even the entire world, for that matter.  It houses the usual wealthy characters: CEOs, entrepreneurs, tech moguls, financiers.  But being a Washington DC suburb, it also houses influential government lobbyists and a plethora of important defense contractors.  Excessive amounts of government money flows through Great Falls. 

But something else flows through Great Falls.  The Potomac River narrows significantly into churning whitewater as it drops seventy five feet over a metamorphosed schist ledge marking the transition between the low-lying coastal plains and more-elevated Piedmont highlands.  This demarcating ledge, known as the Fall Line runs from Baltimore to Tuscaloosa and is clearly visible on any topographic map.  Here at Great Falls that ledge reveals itself quite prominently, and is the ideal location to educate yourself about this unique, elongated geographic feature.

George Washington recognized that the falls here were a significant impediment, viewing them as a barrier between DC and the Ohio River, the prime avenue of trade with the west.  And so, he led a coalition to build a canal around the falls.   The town of Matildaville was formed in 1790 and served as headquarters for the Patowmack Canal Company.  Its success was short-lived though; the company went bankrupt in 1828 when other means of transport made trade with the west easier.

In the early 1900’s, an amusement park was built near the falls which included overlooks, an observation tower, dance pavilion, a night light show, and a wooden carousel.  Its success also was short-lived.  Floods brought a halt to the frivolity in 1950’s.  The land was then acquired by a power company hoping to tap the immense power of the river and build a hydroelectric dam.  But that desire was short-lived as well.  The geologic challenge was just too great.  Through cooperation with The Nature Conservancy in 1956, the land was transferred first to county government, and then ultimately to the National Park Service where it’s been held in perpetuity ending the period of short-lived plans.  

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Another property held in perpetuity is The Grand Canyon, a property I’ve had the pleasure of visiting several times.  Standing at its edge always brings the same overwhelming feeling.  I’m taken aback.  It’s a gasper of a view; surreal in perspective.  To a lesser degree, Great Falls elicits similar feelings.  As I step onto the platform at Overlook #3, the quintessential view of this iconic falls, grand surrealism takes hold.  The heavier-than-normal flow enhances a fabulous view of the plunging and swirling water.  I deliberately chose today to visit Great Falls for two reasons.  First, the area has been inundated by rainfall pushing the Potomac to one of its highest levels of the year.  The flow over the schist ledge is a rare surge – mist clouds hover over the especially turbulent drops and the whitewater’s white noise drowns out most other sounds. 

The other reason for today’s visit is thunder – one of the few sounds that the churning river cannot suppress.  A storm front is passing over the nation’s capital bringing occasional claps of echoing rumble across the landscape.  I’ve come to make audio recordings – to capture the mix of roiling water, raindrops, thunder, and whatever else can sneak onto the audio canvas.  This challenge has brought with it a Mary Poppins-like experience: hiking under an umbrella.  Protecting sensitive recording equipment while wandering the trails requires more than just the usual raincoat. 

Planes, cars, and people are the biggest challenges to nature-sound recordings.  Planes are impossible to avoid in the suburbs of a major city, so recordings have to be made in the snippets of silence between them.  Car noises too are tough to avoid, but luckily, this time of year, engines are snuffed by the deciduous forest between the parking areas and the river.  And today, the wet, stormy forecast has chased away nearly all visitors but me.  It’s one of the nation’s most accessible national parks, yet I nearly have it to myself.  As planned, the conditions are great for recording.

Heading downriver from Overlook #3 I follow the green-blazed River Trail.  Varying connector routes are barricaded in spots due to recent flooding.  Overlooks are abundant; the last one I stop at is of Mather Gorge where the river organizes itself again after scattering around the falls and flows swiftly through this narrow gorge.  Trail footing is tricky in this wet and schisty transition zone, and at times requires collapsing the umbrella to weave around branches and boulders.  When the trail weaves out and around a fern-filled chasm away from the whitewater white noise, a forested symphony of birdsongs is revealed.  Cardinal, goldfinch, blue jay, robin, and a lyrical Carolina wren blend with the trickle of gentle rain and occasional thunder claps.  It’s the sweet spot of Great Falls’ sounds.   

Back at the iconic overlook, after finishing a final recording, I spot an all-black, double-crested Cormorant.  It’s flying upriver, following the Potomac in reverse, over the misted falls and on toward the Piedmont.  No other birds or humans can be seen as this day winds toward its end.  I watch the lone Cormorant until it fades from view, flying on unaware of George Washington, amusement parks, power companies, The Nature Conservancy, or the extreme monetary wealth that exists near this gorge.  But surely it’s drawn to and well aware of the ecological wealth found and protected here in this very unique and dramatic transition zone. 

LEARN MORE ABOUT TNC’S WORK AT GREAT FALLS HERE.