From Bootlegging to Hiking Trail: The Legend of Cuyahoga Valley's Blue Hen Falls

Hiking to Blue Hen Falls in Cuyahoga Valley National Park is a must for anyone exploring the park’s scenic trails and waterfalls. This easy waterfall hike winds through lush hardwood forests and over small streams, culminating at the picturesque Blue Hen Falls, one of the park’s most photographed waterfalls. Beyond its natural beauty, Blue Hen Falls carries a fascinating Prohibition-era story that gave rise to its intriguing and mysterious name. Whether you’re a hiker in Cuyahoga Valley National Park, a waterfall lover, or an Ohio history buff, the trail offers a perfect mix of nature, adventure, and local lore.

Trailhead elevation 669'

Water along Spring Creek near Blue Hen Falls

Don't miss Buttermilk Falls during the springtime

Hiking to Blue Hen Falls

Heather, Hendrix, and I pull into the Boston Mill Visitor Center on a mid-October afternoon, ready to hike out to Blue Hen Falls. We’ve both been to the falls plenty of times before, but this is Hendrix’s first waterfall hike—and he’s already tugging at the leash, ready to go.

We pick up the blue-blazed Buckeye Trail at the corner of Riverview and Boston Mills Road and start up a short stone staircase beneath a canopy of mixed hardwoods. The temperature in the mid-60s—likely our last warm weekend before the valley settles into its fall chill.

The trail climbs gently for a third of a mile before leveling off, winding west toward the falls. Now and then, the hum of I-271 or the distant rumble of the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad breaks up the silence, but surprisingly few people are out enjoying such a gorgeous day.

Half a mile in, we descend a 155-step staircase—a newer addition to the trail—then cross a small footbridge spanning an unnamed stream and a brief boardwalk.

A brief ascent follows, and before long, we’re paralleling Boston Mills Road. It's not the most scenic stretch, but it's really the only section of the hike that's flat.

A couple hundred yards later, the trail cuts right, crosses the road, and weaves through the woods toward the old Blue Hen Falls Trailhead. Years ago, the hike was just a half mile round trip, but when the trailhead was relocated around 2021, it stretched the route by about a mile each way. Beyond the old trailhead, the path dips gently again, following a stretch of crumbling asphalt before crossing a narrow bridge over Spring Creek—the stream that feeds Blue Hen Falls just a few hundred feet downstream.

A short walk past the bridge leads us to an overlook above Blue Hen Falls. It hasn’t rained in about a week and the flow is lighter than usual, but this is my favorite time to visit—the colors of fall are just beginning to turn.

To the left of the overlook, a sign reads “End of Trail.” Beyond it, an unofficial path leads about half a mile downstream to Buttermilk Falls—arguably the park’s most photogenic waterfall—but it’s likely dry this time of year, so we stay at Blue Hen. Carefully, we descend a steep, root-strewn slope down to Spring Creek and turn right toward the falls. Hendrix has a tricky time on the descent but soon finds his footing.

At 15 feet tall, Blue Hen isn’t the largest waterfall in Cuyahoga Valley National Park (that title belongs to 60-foot Brandywine Falls just a few miles away), but it’s one of the most peaceful. Hendrix slurps from the cold stream while we hop across the rocks for a better view. For once, we have the place to all to ourselves—a rare treat for such a popular spot.

We stick around for a bit, giving Hendrix time to explore. After snapping a few photos, we walk downstream to check out a handful of small cascades. When I was a kid, we used to wade through Spring Creek’s shallow water looking for arrowheads, every once in a while finding one in a small pool. None turn up today, but the weather is perfect, and Hendrix couldn’t be happier nosing around the creek.

On the hike back, Heather and I chat about the park and our favorite spots. I tell her about a conversation I once had with a few park rangers at the visitor center about how Blue Hen Falls got its name. They shared two theories, but said the most widely accepted one comes from a colorful slice of local Prohibition-era history (1920–1933).

According to legend, an illegal liquor still once operated in the woods near the falls. Hidden deep in the forest, it was the perfect spot for moonshiners to make their product undetected. The name “Blue Hen” is said to come from a flock of blue hens—fighting chickens—kept by the moonshiners, possibly as both a source of entertainment and a symbol of their operation. Over time, the name stuck, and the waterfall became known as Blue Hen Falls.

During Prohibition, this corner of the valley was no stranger to illicit activity. Just a few miles away from Blue Hen Falls, the Peninsula Nite Club ran as a speakeasy and nightclub, serving locals with contraband liquor and other forbidden amusements. Another hotspot, known as Hell’s Half Acre—now the Canal Exploration Center in Cuyahoga Valley National Park—was a popular bootlegging tavern where workers could unwind with a few illegal drinks after a long day.

Who’s to say if the story the rangers told me is true? There’s no hard evidence to support it—but then again, there’s no record at all explaining how the falls got its name. Even local historical societies admit it’s a mystery. Most agree the name likely traces back to a bootlegger’s operation, though no one can confirm—or rule out—the tale. True or not, it adds a colorful bit of local legend to an already beautiful hike—one we’ll return to many more times, especially with peak fall colors just around the corner.