Peter takes a moment to consider his next move, not far below the upper Cascades. The streambanks at this point are choked with dense tangles of matted rhododendron and laurel, forcing the traveler to choose between traversing the slick rocks and fast water below, or to crawl on hands and knees through the maze. We often chose the rock-hopping option.

Note how clear the water is. It's been filtered through miles of moss and rock to reach this point, starting out as rain and snow falling on the rounded domes of Mt. Guyot and Old Black, trickling down the mountainside to join with other trickles to form small streams that in turn join to create the wild mountain creek known as Ramsey Prong.

I like the feel of stone and moss. There is something supremely satisfying about leaping across a broad run of whitewater to land, crouched on all fours, on dry rock. There is no finer thorofare in America.

The stream above Ramsey Cascades is one continuous line of waterfalls and cascades, all for the most part un-named. I've never seen Drinkwater Pool or the Upper Cascades mentioned on any official map of the Great Smoky Mountains. Perhaps that is how it should be. We need places that aren't labeled, trailed, and boardwalked for our convenience. I've seen several photos over the years of what is purported to be Drinkwater Pool, but I defer to the description given of it by Harvey Broome, who mentions the distinctive coffin-shaped rock that lies at the brink of the deep pool.

The bottom photo shows Peter looking back downstream from below the Upper Cascades, where Ramsey Prong plunges down a high shelf of shattered rock. It's probably twice as high as the better known Ramsey Cascades, but doesn't even rate a mention on the USGS topo. That's cool - each of us can call it whatever we wish, letting the name fit the journey that we made to see it.

This is one of the few points where the route leaves the streambed, climbing high on the west bank to gain the top of the falls.