Picture a river five miles wide and 400 feet deep, moving with such force that what is now a sheer cataract would have been nothing more than a ripple in the current. At the peak of the Missoula Floods, the landscape wasn't carved by a waterfall in the traditional sense. The sheer volume of water was so immense that the falls themselves would have been submerged beneath the flow, appearing as little more than a disturbance on the surface of an incomprehensibly massive torrent. Only in the final stages, as the floodwaters receded, would something resembling a classical waterfall have emerged. The scale of these events defies easy visualization, which is exactly why walking the ground matters. These landscapes hold evidence of forces that dwarf anything in recorded history, and understanding them requires more than reading about them. It requires standing where the water once stood.