Why do humans love waterfalls?

Thundering water, mist tumbling round to feed moss and ice, a heart-shaped cavern. Our senses feasted in awe and reverence at Helmcken Falls. And I wondered: Why do we love waterfalls?

Yes, they’re a gorgeous reward after a sweaty hike, but why do we find them so pleasing to our eyes, our ears, our very soul? Why do we go out of our way to visit them? Wells Gray Provincial Park in British Columbia was the perfect place to contemplate those questions.

Known for its 41 named and hundreds of unnamed waterfalls, Wells Gray calls itself “Canada’s Waterfall Park.” It was formed in 1939 in part to protect Helmcken Falls and named after Arthur Wellesley “Wells” Gray, then B.C.’s Minister of Lands.  

The mountainous park features creeks and rivers that plunge off volcanic precipices into the gorges they created thousands of years ago. And those waterfalls – each one different – have been feeding human senses for just as long.

Maybe we love waterfalls for the sensory bliss.

• Sight: The cascading water is mesmerizing. In a landscape of trees and rocks, a waterfall stands out, an eye-catching feature with rainbows in the mist.
• Sound: Whether trickling or thundering, waterfalls are like music, with light flutes or pounding tympani bookending the score.
• Smell: That fresh, clean scent after a thunderstorm also happens around crashing water: negative ions are created. Our nostrils take in revitalizing air and earthy smells of the nearby forest.
• Taste: Closely tied with smell, you can almost taste that fresh water.
• Touch: The feel of mist bathing your face and bare skin is soothing, restorative.

Why do people who love waterfalls visit Wells Gray? Turns out that waterfalls are common in areas of volcanic activity. Information panels at Spahats (First Nations word for bear) Falls told the 200,000-year-old story.

Chapter 1 was written by volcanoes, which sent layer after layer of bubbling lava between the mountains along the Clearwater River valley starting about 200,000 years ago. Cooling lava formed the rock called basalt in many layers that we could still see in Helmcken’s and Spahats’ canyon walls.   

Ice wrote the second chapter, as glaciers scoured the land, scattered boulders, and wore canyons into the layered lava. Sometimes, volcanoes erupted underneath glaciers – something I never even knew could happen. If the lava didn’t reach the top of the glacier, it formed a pyramid-shaped mountain. But if the lava did reach the top of the ice, it spread out, resulting in a flat-topped mountain.

Water is still writing the next chapter. Glacial meltwaters, carrying their coarse gritty loads of sand and gravel, cut into the basalt. Basalt is weaker than granite and erodes more quickly; that’s why waterfalls are so common in volcanic areas. Today’s streams, rivers and waterfalls continue the erosion process, cutting backwards and downwards through the canyons.

Science may also help explain why we love waterfalls. Biologically, we need water to live, so we’re innately drawn to any life-giving, essential water, and particularly to such dramatic onslaughts of water.

“Humans are hardwired to connect with water,” Jenny Roe, director of the University of Virginia’s Center for Design and Health, said in a Walrus magazine article. This biophilia phenomenon says that connection is rooted in genetics.

Indeed, that explains why humans tend to settle in areas close to a good water supply, which also attracts the plants and animals we need for food.

Negative ions are another reason to love waterfalls. Water that collides with itself, such as waves on a beach or waterfalls, gives off negative ions – oxygen atoms that have picked up an extra electron, resulting in a negative charge. We breathe them in around waterfalls.

Ironically, negative ions have positive effects, although scientists are not agreed on the benefits. Some say they increase the flow of oxygen to the brain, making you feel more alert and energetic. Others claim “that exposure to a good splash of negative ions can positively affect your metabolism, immune system, digestion, blood pressure, sleep, and emotional state,” according to an article called “The Waterfall Effect.”

However, a Healthline article summarized what years of research has found about exposure to negative ions. There’s not enough evidence to claim that they help manage anxiety, lower blood pressure, or improve breathing. But the research does support that negative ions reduce symptoms of depression for some people, have an activating influence on some body systems and cognitive performance, and promote antimicrobial activity.

While some of Wells Gray’s waterfalls are conveniently near the road, others require more effort to visit. To see Moul Falls, we hiked three kilometres (each way) along a reasonably flat trail, with a steep descent at the end over rocks, roots and a staircase. But what a reward! A bridal veil of water spilled into a pretty cavern.

We picked our way over slick, black spongy-looking-yet-hard volcanic rocks to the pool at the cascade’s base. Several of the hundreds of unnamed waterfalls trickled down the canyon walls, joining the stream. Mist enveloped us, creating droplets on my glasses and bathing our faces.  

For those of a spiritual bent, water is important religiously, figuring in countless biblical stories and most notably in the sacrament of baptism. Indeed, we felt blessed to be surrounded by such beauty. The cavern’s rounded walls embraced the waterfall, making me feel we were in nature’s cathedral. It was what Celts call a ‘thin place’ – where the veil between this world and the spiritual world is thin.

One day, we began cycling on the Pyramid Mountain hiking trail, hoping to reach Majerus Falls nine kilometres away. We carefully navigated around the boulders and roots on the trail and dismounted to hoist our bikes over fallen trees and along logs in boggy areas. After about three difficult kilometres, we reluctantly gave up; the dozens of fallen trees defeated us.

But our hike to Sticta Falls was successful. After a kilometre-long ascent, the trail began to reveal the waterfall in stages. First we saw the top, where Falls Creek begins its curvy descent through the cool forest. Then we descended the steep side trail along the waterfall, scrambling on hands and feet in some spots, and were rewarded with glimpses through the trees of the foamy white torrent. Finally, a tuft of trees and mossy rocks formed a balcony at the bottom where we could admire the falls. The creek curved around us and continued through boiling rapids.

We sat on our private balcony for some time, snacking on apples, marvelling at each tiny perfect filament of the thick moss, and trying to capture our memories in pixels. Despite the energetic atmosphere and flying negative ions, it felt peaceful.  

Near Sticta Falls we found what we believed to be Dragon’s Tongue, although no sign proclaimed it. The seemingly random outcropping of lava was indeed in the arched shape of an enormous tongue. Younger than other lava beds in the park, Dragon’s Tongue erupted just 7,600 years ago along Falls Creek. We examined the sharp rocks that are peppered with holes.

We were drawn back for another visit to the magical Helmcken Falls, named for Dr. John Sebastian Helmcken, a doctor with the Hudson’s Bay Company who helped bring British Columbia into Confederation with Canada in 1871. However, not only did the good doctor not discover the waterfall, but he never actually saw it at all. In 1913, land surveyor Robert Lee was the first non-Indigenous person to discover this wonder and he suggested to Robert McBride, B.C.’s premier, that the falls be named McBride Falls. However, McBride decided to honour Helmcken instead.

We used our zoom lens to study the chunks of ice in the cavern more closely – layers of snow, ice and debris that looked like mini-glaciers. We wondered when they would melt, if at all. We watched the mist rise behind the falls, following the curve of the cavern to rejoin the falling water. We also zoomed in on the canyon walls, with their lava layers and columns. According to park information, the mist creeps into cracks in the columns, freezes, and then expands, forcing chunks of rock to fall, creating the cavern.

We speculated on the height of the lower waterfall. It looked tiny in comparison to the upper but was likely 20 or 30 feet high. And then there were the fascinating sideways bursts of water near the base of the falls – it looked like foamy fireworks exploding.  

Waterfalls have inspired humans for thousands of years. Indigenous people, settlers, artists, travellers – all have been captivated in awe and wonder. Bill and I plan travel routes to take in waterfalls and sometimes even veer off our route when we hear of a waterfall to visit, especially if a hiking trail leads to it.

We spent four days in Wells Gray, exploring and discussing the various reasons people might love waterfalls. For me, it’s the glorious sensory experience, a fascination with the way they were formed, and the sense of being in a thin place. And I wouldn’t be surprised if those negative ions were subconsciously playing a role too.

We visited Wells Gray in early May. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.