Day 79: It is not an easy hike. The "trail" (if you could call it that) is nothing more than a track made through brush by elk and a handful of locals who know about Sulphur Creek Falls. Unless you have an eidetic memory capable of recognizing specific configurations of stumps and branches, you will probably not be able to duplicate your route two times in a row (either in or out). The slope on many sections is intimidating, the footholds narrow and unstable. Where the vegetation is thinner, the ground is covered with loose, sharp rocks in sizes from grapefruit to watermelon. At this time of year, the forest floor is deeply covered in decaying leaf litter, making the way even more difficult to follow, but oh, the reward when you arrive at the head of the canyon! Sulphur Creek Falls tumbles down 186' in two steps, forms a small plunge pool (which, incidentally, I have never felt confident to try to access) and then flows on down to fill Swofford Pond. The streambed is choked with devil's-club. Don't even think about going that way!
I like to finish out the year with a commemorative event. Sometimes, weather permitting, this manifests as a hike or snowshoe walk. Other times, the year's end is marked only by a rare restaurant meal. Today, I'd planned to do both, but when I arrived at my favourite Chinese place, still covered in mud from having fallen and slid more times than I care to count, there was a sign on the door saying "Now closed Mondays. Sorry for the inconvenience." Plan B was put into effect and, although it took me thirty miles out of my way, a satisfactory alternate was found. Say g'night, 2018. I can't say I'll miss you much.
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