Woke up nice and late, 7 am. Have to admit, my bivy shelter locks in condensation like nobody's business, even with all the mosquito-net openings. At least I was as dry as a duck in my sleeping bag. Got the camera out before I packed up:
Beautiful to wake up to; the picture barely shows the wisps of mist that clung to the river's surface.
Pressing on, I hiked back to the park concession, making a few short stops along the way.
I stopped and made breakfast at the top of a 70-foot cliff, the rim of an old quarry section out of service long enough to grow a healthy covering of grass and trees. One word of caution: Backpacker's Pantry Powdered Eggs with Bacon is a packet of disgusting, execrable shit, and that's coming from a guy with the digestion of a hyena! I choked down half of it and tossed out the rest to torment the wildlife. I'll stick to MREs next time, thankyouverymuch.
Anyhow, passing over the crummy chow, it was a pleasant breakfast spot, a clear, crisp morning, perched high with a spectacular view of the old quarry floor below.
View from the bottom:
Once I returned to the car it was time for more kayaking. I decided to poke around the lake this time. I wish I could find a survey; it's clear that in spots the water is pretty deep. Drop something there, consider it lost to the ages.
More disused mining gear:
1920s-vintage Bucyrus-Erie steam-shovel, sitting with its tracks in the mud. Seems they left a rather large number of these obsolete hulks, where they lay, all over the country.
Perfectly calm. Relaxed. Like me, for the first time since I can remember. Did I mention that I feel ill at ease in my house now?
But, once again, all good things must end. I had to beach, load-up, and head home. The absolute calm I had felt from the moment I got to St. Stephens evaporated once I was stuck again in traffic among Mobile's Horde of Retards™. It's all been downhill from there.