Perhaps someone might be interested in the following little anecdote.
In 2018, at the age of 25, I made my second Civil War trip from Austria/Germany to the USA (my driving licence was a bit late and I needed two years of experience for a rental car). After first heading for Gettysburg, I browsed the site of the Battlefield Trust and came across a brief reference to Falling Waters. At that point I was not familiar with anything more than the Wikipedia article and it seemed very interesting to me mainly because of my knowledge of Pettigrew and his command.
So, having been spoilt by Gettysburg, I drove along a small country road in my rental car at about 7:30 in the morning, but could see nothing except for small clusters of houses and the address given on the Battlefield Trust website was not discoverable or recognisable. I drove slowly back and forth along the road in the approximate vicinity probably four or five times, passing a police car several times, expecting to be stopped at some point due to my suspicious behaviour (driving at walking speed, watching the houses intensely, stopping randomly), but this did not happen.
At some point I stopped in front of the property that was shown on the navigation system as being closest to my destination and went to the front door to ring the bell. After a few seconds, I heard a man shouting from the first floor that he needed to put something on. Shortly afterwards, an elderly gentleman in a dressing gown opened the door for me. I introduced myself, explained that I was from Germany and was looking for the battlefield of Falling Waters, where Pettigrew had fallen, and if he could tell me where the place was.
The gentleman had to laugh a little and informed me that he was George F. Franks and that it had happened in his garden behind the house. I was then a little embarrassed to have disturbed him, but he offered of his own accord to show me around immediately if I would just give him a minute to put on a jacket. For the next hour and a half we stood in his garden, he showed me the bullet holes on the back of the house and gave me a detailed insight into what had happened.
As a parting gift, I was given the Falling Waters book he had written, and he gratefully accepted the few dollars in cash I was carrying. That was my most wholesome experience so far and is still a wonderful memory.