The trail today reminded me of those at home; gneiss rocks that have broken down to sandy slippery slopes, river bed walkways or at least washed out trails, horse high steps, and brush that tears your skin. It was even hot, or so it seemed, high stepping up the hills.
Thirteen miles later I was greeted by a long span of bridge that forded Deep Creek near Splinters Cabin (named for the complaint the builder got from his wife that all the boards he used for the cabin were full of said splinters, although it is said she never got one in her hindside). The Fullers joined me for a night of cowboy camping in a designated no-camping zone. Just us and the local raccoon who kept trilling love songs at me during the night. I think he wanted my Snickers. Cowboy camping is sans tent, just because you want to or to help keep under the radar - who? Us?
One pleasant note: a trio of somewhat high but really nice kids came back to the parking area with bags and bags of trash they had picked up "to keep this place from being closed to the public." They said they do it all over, and they named a dozen other popular recreation areas close by. Thanks guys!
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