Cherith Glover Fluker
noccalula-falls - 2
I’ve stood at the rim of Noccalula Falls more than a dozen times. You see, I grew up 30 minutes away in Talladega, with family in Gadsden. So this was a place we visited so frequently that I think I actually stopped seeing it. That’s the trouble with wonders close to home. We drive past them so often we stop looking up.
Noccalula Falls’ 90-foot cascade drops through a gorge just two miles off I-59, and unlike most waterfalls of its size, it doesn’t demand a hike to reach. “You would typically have to hike several miles into the wilderness to get something as beautiful as Noccalula Falls,” says John Moore, Director of Commercial Development and Community Affairs for the City of Gadsden. Here, the parking lot sits within about 50 yards of the overlook.
Cherith Glover Fluker
Get closer, though, and the falls immediately start to show off. It’s one of the only waterfalls in Alabama you can hike behind. In fact, improved trails have made the walk beneath that curtain of water easier than it used to be. Somewhere in the mist below grows a rare fern found few other spots in the country, according to Moore, one more reminder that Alabama’s wild places hold things hard to find anywhere else.
Timing matters. I’ve watched the falls rage after spring storms and shrink to a trickle in August drought. Moore points visitors toward March through May, when the botanical gardens bloom, the leaves fill back in, and the water runs full.
Cherith Glover Fluker
But the falls are only the start now. An animal habitat barn recently opened, housing sloths, spider monkeys, kangaroos, toucans, and parrots that, Moore admits, will not stop talking. A petting zoo sits nearby, along with Pioneer Village and an electric train that loops the park. Hikers can descend a roughly 500-step wooden staircase into the gorge, cross a suspension bridge, and complete a two-mile loop trail. A new 85-site RV campground added a zero-entry pool and draws campers from across the country.
Most visitors assume Noccalula Falls is a state park. It isn’t—the city of Gadsden owns and runs it, funded in part by Christmas at the Falls, a six-week lights event that draws up to 200,000 visitors. A newer spring Lantern Festival now pulls similar crowds. There’s even a wooden chapel on-site, built decades ago from that same holiday tradition, where couples marry within sight of the falls.
Afterward, Moore recommends a walk down Gadsden’s Broad Street, a walkable, award-winning historic downtown of boutiques and restaurants just minutes from the park.
I’ve made that drive out of Talladega more times than I can count. It took coming back with fresh eyes to see how much I’d been taking for granted.