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Hobo Not the Correct Term
We meet some of the most interesting people in some of the most unusual places. One such incident happened on my way home from visiting my sister in Weed, California. My sister told me to be sure to visit the Shasta Dam which was right on the way back to the airport in Chico. I told her I would; I got in my rented car and started driving enthralled by the beautiful California scenery all about me when I saw a sign for a waterfall in Dunsmuir, California, so I stopped at the Dunsmuir tourist building to ask for directions to this waterfall.

Any person not directionally impaired would have found this waterfall with no problem. However, being directionally impaired and feeling totally lost I stopped to ask a pleasant looking lady jogging down the street for directions. After explaining the way to me twice, I told her I got it and drove off. Like the woman said at the tourist stop, and the lady jogging all I had to do was drive over the railroad tracks and park the car in a small lot on the left side. Did I tell you I had been to that lot twice before but didn't know I was in the right place? I forgot I had to walk down the railroad tracks almost a mile before I could see the falls.
Once I got to the falls I walked down a fairly steep hill and reached the river where the most spectacular view was set before my eyes. I took a few pictures with my telephone camera, and then I rested. While I sat staring at the falls I talked with a couple of people taking pictures with their very expensive looking cameras. I felt like my phone camera and I were just a little out of place, so I excused myself and left. I was walking down the railroad tracks toward the other falls the lady at the tourist office told me about when a man behind me called out for me to wait. He said he knew a better way to get the falls. His name was Joe and here's the fun part.
We walked down the railroad tracks about two hundred yards when Joe said, "Here's where we get off." I didn't see anything but a steep incline with a gnarly roots jutting out of rocks. Joe led us up a steep and winding path through some rough terrain. He told me he had been this way many times before. So, being the trusting soul I am I kept following him. As we walked I learned that Joe road the trains, lived in Red Bluff and was an elementary school custodian. He told me about a place where we could stop and get a drink of water. There trickling out of the rock into a rock bowl carved out of the rock

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