With an all downhill day, we take our time packing and breakfasting. Today is coffee, Nido powered milk, and two types of granola – chocolate and vanilla. John takes his rod and casts a few times. We secretly fear he will catch more fish. No one wants to clean them for breakfast. Luckily, John has enough bites to entertain, but nothing requiring a commitment.
We saddle up and head towards our first planned break at Benedict Lake. Somewhere along the way Brian startles a grouse onto a low tree branch. We are kind of startled ourselves that the grouse seems so content at eye level and within arms reach. He certainly has more confidence in his camouflage feathers than we do. Benedict Lake is pretty but we are becoming jaded. Ho-hum, another gorgeous Sawtooth lake.
We push on towards Smith Falls. The terrain varies from loose rock, steep rock, and smooth dirt. There is one thing all this terrain has in common, it is downhill, and Brian is tiring of it. We set Elk Lake as our late lunch goal. It is a pretty little lake, but the reedy shore make water access impractical. We are certainly glad we camped at Rock Slide Lake and not here. We stuff ourselves with things on Wasa crackers. I have peanut butter, Yarlsberg cheese and slices of salami. Brian and Kevin also have a can of sardines.
As we push on towards Taylor Springs, Brian is suffering. We stop on the trail and Brian treats his ails with Leukotape and Advil. I climb down a bank and soak my shirt in the river. We see very few people on this trail – just one solo hiker and one couple. I ask the couple about Taylor Springs. They had no idea, even though according to the map they passed right by it. They mention they are heading to Elk Lake to camp, which tells us something about their judgement. We finally find the spring, which is an impressive amount of water pouring out of a giant pile of rocks. We are not sure how they missed this. The water blends into the already well-flowing river. I can see further up along the shore, below a huge Jeffery Pine, what seems like a large flat dirt spot. The trail takes us away from the river but eventually back enough to find a social trail. The side trail leads us to a beautiful camp on a big lazy turn in the river.
Brian plops down and focuses on filtering water. He remains there most of the evening. I start the stove for dinner while Kevin shuttles water between us. We have tortilla soup with a huge bag of Fritos. John is the first in the river, followed quickly by Kevin and then me. We gladly give the river our dirt and sweat. In return it gives us relief and refreshment. We pitch our tents as ominous dark clouds roll in. We each consider the possibility of rain. John continues to cowboy camp, and I stick with my rainfly-less tent. I fall asleep under swooping bats and cloud-shrouded stars. I hope I do not wake to rain and regret.
