The urbanization of a natural setting disturbed me. I felt conflicted about seeing what I would otherwise consider some pretty good art, tagged on most of the available faces of the granite boulders in the area.
I thought about how some of the last surviving records of the ancient Anasazi civilization exist in red-rock canyons as petroglyphs and pictographs. Albeit, some of those have been graffitied and pumped full of shotgun holes.
Self-aggrandizing crap like somebody's initials or inane observations are not what I call "art." Who cares whether Chachi loves Joanie? Why do these people feel compelled to deface Mother Nature?
With these mixed feelings in turmoil like ingredients in a speeding blender, I admired the beauty of the falls while realizing that I would probably not return anytime soon.