Waking up in the mist seemed like our normal thing these days. The night before wasn’t that great and neither of us slept well.  Huckleberry and I ate and had one goal for the day, Laurel Falls.  We were both so excited the hike off the mountain went by pretty quick, probably due to us listening to the Hobbit on audio book.  When we crossed the road we took off down a flat gravel service road that went for at least a mile.  The trail led across the river and then cut through the rocks, the way the rocks were cut reminded me of an old train route.  It looked as if the trail we were hiking used to bean old train route that had been converted long ago.

The slow rolling curves finally led us to a trail head down to the falls.  The sound of the roaring water had been heard for quite sometime and was pushing us to get there quickly. All we had to do was to climb down the steep rocky steps to the river.  This would prove to be tough, the steps large and unbalanced took every bit of concentration to maneuver. Painstaking making our way down we dropped our gear and got undressed. It was time to go in, Huckleberry moved quickly and was in before I had my stuff ready.

Walking to the river edge, over all the river stones I could feel how cold the water was going to be.  Walking on fours to avid falling I crept closer to the deeper water, looking more like a bear than a human. When I had just enough water I dove in, swimming to the falls. Good god the water wasn’t cold, it was freezing, my feet were instantly numb from the temperature. Goading our friends in we sat for pictures before getting out. The only thing to do now was to enjoy it, and enjoy it we did for the next few hours.

I was sad to leave, I could have stayed there for a long time but we had to get out before the storm hit.  Leaving down the trail I found that it ran along the river and at one point was only a two foot wide stone slab cutout of the sheer rock wall.  One false step and you would go in the water. How cool is that?  Walking along the river banks I enjoyed the sights and sounds before heading back up the steep embankment.  From here on out I would only be going up hill for the day.  Not happy about it I trudged up and up.

Losing myself in thought I passed mile after mile hoping that the next turn on each ridge would bring me to the summit.  The clouds grew darker and threatened to rain just before it dumped on me.  Drenching me in seconds, I cursed the weather.   Not wanting all of my stuff to be soaked I picked up the pace. Hoping I would get to the campsite soon, I prayed it was around the corner. And then finally it was, I spied Huckleberry all set up and pitched my tent in a minute flat it seemed.   The only thing to do after dinner was to hang our bag of food and pray the displaced bears wouldn’t find it.  The funny thing is you never know till the next morning about that.