Monday, June 16th

...We hit Clear Creek late in the afternoon. I had gotten so used to finding some way over the creeks, that by the time we hit a creek with no foreseeable options and a days worth of walking worn through my boots, I didn't have to deliberate for long. I tied my boots onto my pack and plunged my burning feet into the cold Clear Creek. The pace of the stream took me by surprise and I grabbed at one of the vine maples behind me to keep from losing my balance. Once steady, I looked upriver. Tarp, Jim and Candace had found a log to cross on and were making their way across. I was glad to find myself alone. I was choking on tears. Sunlight was beginning to dip behind the trees, leaving behind that ephemeral glow, softening the edges of a hard day. I walked up the river, the cold water reached my knees, having the same restorative effect that it has on my feet. The relief and the beauty of the creek was breaking me down. Candace was calling for me from the thicket of yews on the opposite bank....