South Fork (Day 3)

The trail along South Fork is obscure to say the least. I once hiked this eight-mile stretch and crossed the river sixty times in one direction due to constantly losing the trail.
 
With heavy packs we made our first crossing within minutes of leaving our campsite. I took half a dozen steps into the cold stream that rose to my shins. Cold water filled my boots and I sloshed a path of mud as I came out on the opposite bank.
 

At first we easily stayed with the trail on a wide path through the quaking aspen. But then it disappeared and we chose to take a less obvious route that slanted upward. As it climbed higher and away from the river, we decided we must be on a game trail, but by now it was too late to turn around. Instead we chose to angle back down toward the river. The footing proved difficult on the steep slant with loose dirt and rock. I used my pole to steady my weight, but even then it would often slip and I would slide a few feet. It was also a challenge to keep the heavy pack balanced so as to not throw the weight down the hill, taking me with it.
 
After much travail and many scrapes we once again reached the creek and found the trail. Ben and I had a good conversation. He showed me what a mullein plant looked like and explained that it can be used for medicinal tea, as well as toilet paper.
 

Even when on the trail, we were compelled to cross the stream. With each step I would lead with my pole and then place my foot, feeling for steady ground with no slick rocks. Then I would adjust my weight for the flow of the current. I would repeat the process until I had crossed the river.
 

Again we lost the trail.  This time we walked in the river for fifty yards. My feet began to turn numb.
 
The conversation turned to rattlesnakes and Ben explained that the serpents have holes above their nose that can sense temperature and can help them aim for a blood vessel if they decide to strike. Just off the path we found a skin shed, but couldn't decipher the type of snake.
 
The route along South Fork is long and monotonous. It constantly demands route-finding skills. Every bend looks like the next. Shoes never dry off because there is always another crossing to be made.
 

On the lookout for snakes I would always jump when a lizard scampered through the leaves. Then Ben found a rattler coiled on a rock next to the path. He tugged on it with his walking stick, but the snake shook his rattle and slithered into the crevice of a rock.
 
By the time we came to the end, we had crossed the stream forty-eight times. We unloaded the cumbersome packs from our shoulders and felt a lightness as we loaded up the vehicle.
 
Before we left I had one matter of business to take care of. I returned to the stream and dissembled a mound of rocks that lay beneath the frigid flowing water. Then I pulled out an ice-cold can of Pepsi that I had cached three days earlier. ♠