Beneath the soaring canopy of an ancient rainforest, past streams cascading through mossy rock beds, up a river winding its way along a canyon, toward the magnificent thunder of water, and across a rustic wooden bridge soaked in mist, we come to a waterfall tumbling 50 feet into a narrow gorge. It is easy to imagine why the Quileute call this place “magic waters.” Everything here is enlivened by water’s touch. Drenched in cold spray from lingering with the falls and splashing through rivulets crossing the trail, we soon find even ourselves no exception to its enchantment—nor would we want to be.