Last day: the waterfall

Last time we met, I was checking out an old 1800s cemetary. There was so much spookiness on those grounds, even Stephen King would have enjoyed it. I hope to get to go back some day and let my writing mind take over. It’s hard to do that when you are so filled with fresh air and excitement as I was from the hike. I even captured a little of fall’s colors (or maybe it was death to a living thing from a hot summer?)

At any rate, it was an exciting day hike on route 401 or 202 or whatever that thing was. I know when we go back we are going to take another trail and I cannot wait to see what that will bring.

So, the next day was going home day. We had a great breakfast by the waterfall before the fellas started breaking camp. Bucko took down the tent, and Rambo took care of the fire place.

I had brought some of Allan’s ashes with me to share in this adventure. I knew he was there in spirit and it was fitting to leave his ashes there. The waterfall sounded beautiful, and it was a glorius fall morning.  And it was definitely the hardest thing I have ever done.

But Darby was waiting and the Hill called my name.

So, after getting dressed in our gear, backpacks loaded a little less full, I picked up borrowed trekking poles and we were off. When we got to the hill, the fellas made me give up the pack. They wanted me to make it down safely and their was always that chance that I might take a tumble.

I agreed and complied. Didn’t want to hurt anything at this point. I had to go back to real life the next day.

So, the trek back to the car was filled with pictures taken and mental images made of a fine camping/back-packing trip. My first backpacking adventure, but not the last, I can assure you.

I hope you enjoy the pics.