Sunday morning we started off all hyped up in search of a place I read about in one the park pamphlets I ran across, called “Tryst Falls”. What a disappointment! No falls, just a very small shallow pond complete with a sign warning us that there was no diving and no swimming. Not a chance of that, I think we would have been hard pressed to find water above our shins.

Three droplets of water constitute a waterfall, evidently.

My friend tried a closer spot and maybe an odd angle would help.

Farther down the road at Watkins Mill State park we found a wooden bridge that is still in use, in fact we drove over it and lived to tell the tale.

Underneath the bridge was a dry creek bed that we walked along for a mile or so, a testament to the ongoing dry conditions here.

More of the dry creek bed, we walked a long way in search of water and never found any.