Calypso Creek Fantasy

Day 337: As the dry season comes to an end, tiny Calypso Creek threads its way through Longmire Campground with but a memory of springtime's orchids dancing along its margins. Its hearty May chuckle has matured into a demure smile not unlike that of the Mona Lisa; a secret is at the heart of the matter, one which leaves us guessing. It winds among mossy rocks, playing the coquette, tapping stick and stone upon the shoulder, running quickly to hide around the next turn. Somewhere along its length, a frog calls, a sound stilled by the softest footfall. Beetles cross its width on fragile twigs and burrow themselves deeply in lichen, safe after a perilous passage. It speaks in color: green, green, green, and in so many tones they could not be counted. Calypso is the life of this small and intimate forest, its integrity, and soon the rains will come and set its heartbeat pulsing young and strong again.

Weir Spillway

Day 298: With a little more time on my hands, I hiked up to the old weir again today for a better look around. Specifically, I wanted to see if the trail extended beyond the site, and as far as I could tell, it terminates at the weir. If I had taken a map and compass or a GPSr, I would have been tempted to explore the upper reaches of the creek. Perhaps it's a good thing I left them behind, or I might not have gotten home in time for dinner.

Experienced cross-country hikers will know that following a creek up-slope is a bad move. All too often, creeks have steep headwalls somewhere above, and in any event may be so densely lined with vegetation as to be impenetrable. In the Pacific Northwest, that vegetation frequently is comprised of Devil's Club which makes creekbed travel even less feasible. The best choice of route is one which follows a ridgeline where the natural fall of debris is at a minimum. That said, I explored a short way above the weir where I found a series of tumbling cascades hidden in deep shadow; mossy, green, cool and with more than an adequate supply of mosquitoes. Retreating with prudence, I then ventured down an embankment to obtain this shot from below the weir spillway. Further travel downstream from this point would have required a rope.

Discovery

Day 288: Now you realize that this place wouldn't be secret if I told you where it was, so you're out of luck there. Suffice to say that a few days ago, I discovered an abandoned road...more like a disused trail, really...and only had time to explore part of its length. I had a pretty good guess what might lie at its end, but without checking a map, I had no idea how far I might need to travel to reach my imagined destination. With a little free time today, I decided to see how far I could get before a borrowed watch told me I had to turn around.

I was almost at the halfway point on the clock when I heard the sound of rushing water in the distance. Damn! Should I risk being late and go on, or do the responsible thing and turn around? I knew I'd make better time on the downhill run, so I decided to go up a switchback, at that point heading away from the water. I came to the second corner in fairly short order, but of course couldn't guess how many times the trail would turn back on itself before it delivered me to the creek. Fortunately, the next bend took me straight there, to this lovely and isolated weir. With the clock ticking, I snapped a few photos and then raced back down, reaching the bottom only two minutes past the time when I was expected to return. My slight tardiness was deemed justifiable by the like-minded soul who had loaned me the watch, a person who could not have resisted the siren call of that rush of water any more than I could.

It's not every day you get to name a geographic feature. Knowing what we know, the two of us were in complete accord on the designation of "Calypso Creek," and I'm sure he'll get up there to see it soon!