Being in the wilderness without access to news or wi-fi is just the best. The rustle of the trees, the gurgle of the creek we camped near, and the songs of the birds were our only source of information, and that concerned only the news of the forest, nothing about viruses or marches or global warming. Not that those things don’t matter, they so vitally do matter, but my soul needs respite once in a while. The only negative chatter we heard came from squirrels whose territory we inadvertently entered. How heavenly!

We took off not knowing where we were going to end up, and not really caring. Turns out, we camped in the Wet Mountains, aptly named because they tend to get an afternoon shower every day. I used some of that time for writing, but a nap or a book suited just as well. That afternoon ritual reminded me of going to the flat tops every summer with my parents. During the brief rain spell, we all retreated to the cabin for card games and popcorn, while my dad napped. He was always tired out from several hours of morning fly-fishing in the White River or Marvine Creek. We girls fished the nearby ponds, not nearly as strenuous as traipsing about in deep, swift water.

The hike up Ophir Creek to the waterfall was one of the most enjoyable hikes I’ve done in a long time. It was neither too long nor too steep. Gorgeous wildflowers lined the path along the way. Butterflies escorted us. Small pool after pool held a half dozen brookies (trout).

Low and behold, friends drove past. Neither party had any idea the other was going to camp here. Luckily, they got one of the last spots at the opposite end of the campground. What a small world.

Our next plans are kayaking, perhaps some fishing, perhaps some petrified rock polishing. We are playing it by ear, and checking for ticks.chipmunk

Source: Barbara Tyner WordPress Blog

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