No Trail To Take You There

Day 257: There is no trail to Sulphur Creek Falls unless you count the spaghetti of confusing and abbreviated game trails which, likely as not, wind you up in a thicket of devil's club or salmonberry bushes or nettles. The ferns are higher than a hiker's head, and above them rise ancient cedars. There are fallen trees and root wads and rocks and greasy mud. There are slopes too steep to descend safely if you go too high, dead-ends which force you into the creek if you go too low. There are man-eating mosquitoes and green glades, and the sounds of water rushing echoes off narrow box-canyon walls. The spot is primeval, a microecology of mosses flourishing among deep shadows; sunlight comes here for only a few hours at the peak of day. There is ever a mist in the air, thrown off by the cascade, and a sublime peace cast by the isolation.

I did not know I was going to Sulphur Creek Falls today, but Nature took me by the hand and drew me in, a Muse with a plan. She gave me a rumble of thunder which roared louder than the falls, but saved the waterworks until I was safely down from the adventure she had devised for me. I love unexpected days!