Across the road and down through the wide forest, no rhododendrons, sparse trees, some pines. Soon the sound of water tugs me forward. The second half of the journey is very beautiful. Huge shelf boulders straining out over the narrow path. Switchbacks. Water was pouring down the faces of these boulders, but there are no waterfalls in this area. At last the creek came into view again. On this side, huge boulders rest gently at the creek's edge and reach out across the water, which was considerably higher than last weekend.
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The quiet was wonderful. I snapped pictures of pale green fungus on broken twigs that looked like pale green coral, a patch of what I swear is bamboo, newly budding for spring. I never saw it at all last week, whether because I was blind with apprehension or because they had not begun to green. Moss-covered rocks also offered themselves for my camera's eye.
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As I neared the end, I slowed my step once again, but the journey did come to an end. I changed out of heavy socks and hiking boots, pulled on wool socks and clogs, ate my banana. Talked briefly with a man with a kayak on his car's roof. I asked him if the creek was deep enough for that kind of thing. He wiggled his hand and smiled, not really. I wished him and his friend happy sailing and headed home.
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