It’s the type of waterfall you might read about in an adventure novel or see in an Indiana Jones movie; the stream goes tumbling over the edge some twenty or thirty meters above the valley, twisting and turning in the air then hitting a large rock at the bottom, sending plumes of spray high into the air. The sound is like that of torrential rain or a faucet opened at maximum, the rush as the water falls through the air and the deep booming when it hits the bottom. The day is still yet here at the fall the rush of the water causes a cool breeze to blow.  The spray is caught by the breeze and spreads out like a thin mist, creating a kind of natural air condition for us as we sit here on a large boulder looking up at the fall. The sun catches in the mist, forming a rainbow that hangs in the air above the pool of clear blue water and dark boulders. I let my gaze wander upwards along the smooth wet cliff face, only a few cracks running across its surface, to the green canopy above and the blue sky in the gap over the river. The water that comes tumbling over the edge flows and billows in the breeze, like a cloud of smoke on a windy day, the movement is almost mesmerizing. I remain seated on my boulder for a few minutes, a feeling of contentment inside me.