A Trail Less Traveled: Broken Rock Falls in Logan, Ohio

It is unlikely that I will ever forget my initial visit to Broken Rock Falls. Nestled within the Hocking Hills, the Old Man's Cave State Park is approximately twelve miles from the town of Logan (the county's seat). Being a native of Hocking County, I have become quite familiar with the region's state parks. Merciful to ones gas tank, the parks are centrally located to one another. Thus, not one to waste a good day of hiking, it was not uncommon for me to visit two or three parks if time permitted.

It was on one of these occasions that I found myself in the parking lot of Old Man's Cave at the end of a long day of hiking. Perhaps one of the most popular of the State Parks, it is typically over visited by masses of tourist. So one could imagine my surprise when I discovered no other cars in the lot.
Seeing opportunity, I practically leaped out of my rusted Nissan at the chance to hike unopposed. Knowing I had a time constraint (after all it was near dusk on an autumn evening), I picked up my usual pace.

More often than not, I begin my trek through Old Man's Cave at the bridge which spans the Upper Falls. From there my route begins to read like a page out of Meriwether Lewis' journal: "down the winding stairs to the gorge floor, past the Devil's Bathtub, Through the tunnel beneath the hermit's cave, descend the switch-backed trail to the lower falls, staying to the right of the ancient hemlock tree...".I was admiring the hemlock, and nearby lower falls when I heard a tremendous commotion. For me the age long question of: if a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does it produce a noise? The answer is yes. In the case of a tree falling in an enclosed gorge I might also add incredibly loud!

It took a few seconds for me to discern the exact direction of the crash. However, it soon became apparent that the incident was obscured from my view by the giant hemlock. After a glance at my watch, I ventured to what I had thought was considered off trail/off limits by the park service. What I found was an old deer trail heading parallel with a stream known locally as Queer Creek. I followed the trail up a muddy embankment to discover the culprit of the forest's disturbed peace. An dead looking pine tree had the bad luck of being in the path of a rolling boulder of black hand sandstone from high above. As I took in these new surroundings, I heard something peculiar. It was the sound of running water cascading down a cliff face. A waterfall? Surely this could not be, for I was certain that I knew these trails like the back of my hand. Moreover, this area was not listed on any map of Old Man's Cave that I had ever seen.

I continued down stream to the source of a smaller creek trickling out of what appeared to be an overgrown outcropping. In this area, many a loose boulder had fallen through the years. With most of these, I could determine exactly where they had originally been attached to the rock overhang above. I was making a game of it: mentally piecing this natural jigsaw puzzle together; when my eye caught a strange pattern of shapes to some of the sandstones. Whereas most of the boulders lay littered within the stream that danced around them; these stones were flat, leaf covered, and ascended in a drunken sort of path.

After a wet tromp through the cold stream, I confirmed that not only were these flat stones a neglected stairway, but the path of the lot winded steeply upward and ended at a deeply shaded waterfall. The whole scene resembled a photograph of a Mayan ruin.

My heart beat uncontrollably, for not only was I a smoker at the time, but I also legitimately felt like an explorer who has stumbled upon his greatest discovery. The falls looked as if nature had protested it route to the canyon floor. Here an there boulders and large branches attempted to dam up the falls. However, gravity having the final say saw to it that the falls evaded over, around, and under these obstacles. The stubborn stream produced one of the most unusual waterfalls that I have ever seen.

Oddly, there were none of the tell tale signs of the rude tourist (beer cans, litter, graffiti). Similarly, there was no sign to denote some historical significance. Just the falls and a washed out stone slab that once served as a bridge spanning the two embankments beneath the falls. The slab was broken exactly in the middle and formed a V shape, where cool water claimed a small portion of each side. A ledge tapered out on the other side of the broken bridge. This reached out like a crooked finger to touch a section of the falls some five feet from it's base.

I could not help but imagine that this very ledge was likely used by the native Americans long ago. Perhaps as a source for the then fresh water that trickled peacefully throughout this valley. It was with these possibilities that I set foot looking for archaeological relics. Unfortunately, my wrist watch, and the fast setting sun confirmed that time indeed was not on my side. I reluctantly left my new-discovered haven by way of continuing up the deer trail that continued on to what I believed met up with the main trail.

Sure enough, the trail ascended to the gorge overlooking the lower falls. From here a climb up a man-made wooden stairway (made all the more eerie by the dying sunlight in this valley) lead to a too close for comfort Cliff's walk. The trail then made an ascent up a long set of stones stairs which were masked within a narrow tunnel, and on to the parking lot. Thankfully there were no Park Rangers in the now obviously closed parking lot. So after a long drink from the water bottle I had forgotten in my car, it was off to brag about my new findings. Although a part of me wanted to keep my adventures private, I couldn't wait to point out this hidden gem to other ignorant hikers.

It wasn't long after my initial visit that I discovered, by way of an old park map, that my waterfall had a name: Broken Rock Falls. It was even referenced geographically to the region's tallest hemlock tree. This was the very tree that had prevented me from seeing the boulder crash into the dead pine. It is interesting to note that recently the Ohio Department of Natural Resources has given Old Man's Cave a much needed trail repair. Not only have they restored a lot of bridges, and constructed hand rails where needed; they have also added a topographical map for hikers to reference in there visitor's center. Amongst the maps many indicated points of interests is the location of the once forgotten Broken Rock Falls. Ironically, despite the parks reconstruction, Broken Rock Falls as of this writing remains as I had originally discovered it. With it is the feeling of being off the beaten path, and reminded of a time when the waterfall held a more public appeal and significance.

Broken Rock Falls can be found at the Old Man's Cave State Park on State Route 664, South of Logan, Ohio. Maps are provided at the visitor's center that detail various geographic features, including caves, and a looping route to and from the falls.