The Long Way Was Worth It & I Got it on Film

A Hike to the Falls, a Roll of Film, and a Reminder to Begin

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I've done the Pilot Knob hike before. It’s one of those trails that feels familiar, almost like a conversation you’ve had a dozen times. You know the twists, the climb, where the view opens up—but somehow, you never quite finish the sentence.

There’s an extended trail that leads to a waterfall. I’ve seen the sign for it every time. I’ve said, “Someday I’ll do that one.” And then I don’t.

But this time was different.

This time I said I would—and I did.

And that shift, from saying to doing, felt like more than just a change in my hiking route. It felt like a metaphor for everything I’ve been working toward—especially launching Hicks Film Studio.

So often we carry around these little promises to ourselves. I'll start the business. I'll learn the thing. I’ll take the longer trail. We mean them when we say them. But the days stack up, the weight of “later” gets heavier, and those intentions get buried under the routine.

But there’s something humbling—and powerful—about finally doing the thing you always said you wanted to do.

And the waterfall? It did not disappoint. It was loud and soft all at once, rushing and still. It was more than I imagined, not because it was grander than I thought, but because I was finally there.

Of course, I brought my camera—this was an expired roll of film, which means a few surprises showed up. The first 6 frames came out totally overexposed and silvery, almost ghostly. There’s always a risk with expired film. Improper or inconsistent storage can cause contrast fade, and light leaks or fogging can sneak in… but that’s also what makes it magic.

Every roll becomes a collaboration between you, time, and chemistry. The imperfections add mood and texture—a reminder that photography isn’t always about precision. Sometimes, it’s about embracing the unknown and seeing beauty in the flaws.

Miroslav Tichý said, “Photography is painting with light! The blurs, the spots, those are errors! But the errors are part of it, they give it poetry and turn it into painting.”

When I developed the roll, I knew I wasn't going to be looking for perfection. I’d be looking for proof. That I showed up. That I moved forward. That I took the long way and let the process be part of the art.

Because starting something new—whether it’s a hike or a creative business—means embracing the blurry edges. The unknowns. The imperfections.

It means you begin anyway.

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Thanks for being here.

If you're new: I'm Molly, the founder of Hicks Film Studio, where I help photographers bring their work to life through 35mm film development, scanning, and storytelling. Follow along for more hikes, more film, and more behind-the-scenes moments where life and light intersect.