[This was originally published in January 2017 in my Kevin Adams Photography Newsletter. The “Did That Just Happen” posts were always the most popular, so I decided to do the same thing in this blog. I’ll be reposting all the old ones that pertain to waterfalls and adding new ones as crazy things happen on my waterfalling adventures.]

“Sir, I need you to step out of the car.”

Nothing good ever comes after those words. Believe me, I’ve heard them often enough to know. Thankfully, in this case it eventually ended up okay. But only after some 30 minutes of intense searching and questioning by the state patrolman and his partner.

What were they looking for? Weed. Why did they think I had some? Well, about that…

I’ve been chasing waterfalls for nearly all my life and I’ve learned a lot along the way. One chilly winter day in the late 1980s, I learned that wool + forest duff + sweat + rain + heat = an odor that state patrolmen interpret as someone smoking pot.

The all-day hike to Big Falls and Standing Rock Falls on Thompson River was a miserable experience. It was the worst possible weather conditions: Steady rain and cold enough to keep me thoroughly chilled, but not cold enough to snow. You know, a hypothermia factory. It didn’t help that I spent a good bit of the hike crawling through rhododendron tangles. I kept moving to stay moderately alive, but by the time I got back to the truck, I was very cold, soaked to the bone, and my wool sweater was filthy with dirt and sweat.

Sitting in the running truck by the roadside, I wanted to get dry and warmed up before pulling out. I stretched the sweater across the dash with the defrost fan on high heat. After a few minutes, when the sweater began drying, a strange thing happened to the air inside the truck. Let’s just say that it wasn’t pleasant and that I was happy there was no one with me.

Another thing I learned from my waterfalling adventures is that in rural North Carolina you can’t just sit by the road with your engine running without drawing the attention of local authorities. I guess there isn’t much for them to do and I presented them with a great opportunity to apply their training. As soon as I rolled down the window, a cloud of stench wafted out the window and caused the officer to jump backward and exclaim something I didn’t quite understand.

I did understand when he accused me of smoking pot. I tried to explain, but he wasn’t having it. I guess I can’t blame him, and I guess I should work on a better story for the next time this happens. I mean, who, besides another waterfaller, is gonna believe that someone would crawl through rhododendron all day in the rain and 30-something temps just to see a waterfall?

After calling his partner out to assist, they spent the next 30 minutes or so searching for the elicit substance. I tried to shove the sweater in their face to prove I was innocent, but that only caused me to learn yet another thing that day. Let’s just say I won’t be making any more quick gestures at a man wearing a gun around his waist.

Finally, they hesitantly agreed that I might be telling the truth and let me be.

Geez! Like I would really be sitting in my car beside the road smoking pot. How ridiculous. Bake that stuff in a brownie and you can have it without anyone knowing!