I find one of the forest woman off to my right. Understated, she stands somewhat hidden by boulders that have come to rest on her upstream side. The boulders are decked in moss. Ferns and salmon berries grow from between the boulders. A 50 or 60 year old cedar, just a toddler of a tree, grows from her top, the roots wrapped in a tight embrace. In higher water she might be an island, but she is not alone. (Only later when I look at my photos do I recognize this one as the same stump that has been the header for this blog.)
I don't go far before I spot a majestic on the hillside.
She stands there, eighteen or twenty feet high with her crumbling red sister above her. The majestic grows two cedars, 15 inches and 2 feet in diameter from her top. I'm no longer interested in following the creek but instead turn to cross the hillside to see what stands behind this tallest one.
I find wet and brush, a swamp on a 20 degree slope. But, coming out of that tangle I find a major game trail and follow that until it until it fades away into a new tangle. I cross two small streams that I did not know about. I find familiar ground at the grave of Vitus Bering. It has been awhile since I felt that I explored something. I find myself thinking about it. I find myself in tears as I walk back.
"A" and I put a deck on one of the double log bridges. One more sometimes slippery as heck bridge to go.
|It was kind of nice to stand comfortably in the middle of the bridge and look around.|