There’s a waterfall across the laneway from our campsite. After our tent is set up, we cross the little road to have a look.

Wooden stairs lead down to to the flat rocks at the top of the waterfall. We stand on the rocks and admire the scene.

“We’ll probably get a better view from the bottom of the waterfall,” I say.

My husband Phil says, “Do you want to take that trail we saw when we came in?” I agree and we head down the path.

We quickly realize that the path we’re walking on is also a roadway. We squeeze onto the shoulder to let cars pass. We bend our knees generously as we make our way down the steep path through the woods.

At the bottom of the hill, there is a parking lot. A family in a pickup truck wants to park where my son is currently walking. They reach their arms out of the open windows and bang on the metal sides of the truck, making a loud, booming sound.

Not wanting him to get run over, I pull my son out of the way, but the truck is taking up the entire parking lot. Pedestrians scatter as the driver maneuvers around the small parking lot.

We get away from that mess and onto the trail. There is a wooden bridge crossing the river and a foot path leading us closer to the waterfall. I snap several pictures and take some videos from the bridge and from the path.

We find a picnic table near the base of the waterfall and sit down to enjoy its beauty. The cool mist tickles our hot faces, relieving us from the humidity that has been clinging to us all day.

Phil decides that it’s a good time for him to get some photographs as well. He takes out his phone and uses the camera to frame the waterfall. He is about to tap the button when the family from the pickup truck walks into his shot.

They’re wearing bathing suits, tank tops, and flip flops. A guy with a mop of white-blond hair and neon pink swim shorts takes his shirt off and poses in front of the waterfall.

He bares his teeth and sticks his tongue out as far as it will go. He sticks his pointer and pinky fingers up while holding the middle fingers down with his thumb. He poses with his right hand up and his left hand in front of his belly, with his left hand up and his right hand down, and with both hands in front of his hips.

When he is done having his picture taken, he puts his shirt back on.

When Phil sees the guy walk back to his family, he thinks that this is his chance. He takes his phone out again, but the other family members also want their pictures taken.

We notice rain drops and decide to walk back to the campsite. As we walk over the bridge, we see the guy climbing up the waterfall. His shorts are blazing like a neon sign in front of the white water and the grey rocks.

A few days later, we’re at home sitting on the couch. I ask Phil what his favourite part of the road trip was.

“I liked it when we were sitting on the picnic table and laughing at that guy,” he says. “You know, the one who was throwing horns in front of the waterfall while his girlfriend or whoever took his picture.”

“I think that was his mom,” I say.