I really liked this trail. It follows the course of a mining ditch up the hill. There are interpretive signs about the vegetation and mining. We tossed pebbles into a mine shaft filled with water. It took a satisfyingly long moment for them to plop. The maintained trail stops at a little myrtle creek beach and the looser trail continues onward.
Yesterday, I found a rock down by the river. Well, I found lots of rocks and, as always some rock hearts and other small lovelies came home in my pocket. But–this was a rock, not a pebble. I could lift it and even carry it, but it was heavy. Looked a bit like a piece of Shropshire blue cheese all golden with veins of bluey-green, white, and gray. That rock wanted to come home with me. I lugged it to the next clump of bushes and put it to bed.
Early this morning I took my coffee and went back to the river. I was surprised by the vast multitude of bushes. I found and old metal plate, an empty crawdad shell, more neat rocks, a cool bit of bark, a tiny patch of iris growing in the rocks and sand…and…at last…my rock. Brought it two bush clumps closer and triangulated better. I have a strategy.
Bill and I explored the riverbank. He took pictures and I made discoveries.
We walked to and through Stout Memorial Grove. Such huge and peaceful trees. Truly a cathedral of a forest. It’s interesting to see how fire appears to melt their bark. I guess fire makes the trees produce that bulbous, curvy, melted looking bark. We saw mergansers up close and Mark learned about equisetum whistles. Equisetum makes a fine whistle!
…and it has beautiful Redwoods
Went back in the evening and moved the rock all the way to the base of the short rocky hill. Tomorrow we move upward. There was that moment when I looked from the last brush clump across the sand to the base of the trail. It looked a lot longer from that perspective. I walked to the edge of the river. Tossed in some pebbles, breathed, and walked back. I crouched, hugged shropshire to my chest and stepped out and out and out each step longer than the last.
On reaching the base of the rock jumble that lead to the trail, I swung the rock out and up a bit, overbalanced and landed on my butt. Luckily the rock didn’t land on me, I steered it a bit to the side. Whump! Naturally nestled next to the little pool.
I looked hastily around. Couldn’t see anyone obviously laughing at my grace. Back to camp.
Hot dogs and baked beans and music around the campfire…this time at Jess and Mark’s …one space farther away from the camp host.
Oh, and I took a picture of a log that looks like a slug.