I'm a little behind blogging about the trip, but am finally getting to it. I'm going to start with the last day first--I got up and went for an early morning trail run. Of course I had managed to forget my running shoes, but I had some trusty sandals. I put some bandaids in my pocket (it's not the first time I've forgotten my running shoes, and I didn't want to get a blister!), and grabbed my camera and a water bottle. Then I was off.
The trail for the Right Fork Canyon (a tributary to the majestic Lamoille Canyon) starts at a cattleguard and sign by what is now called the Lions Camp (previously Boy Scout Camp and Lamoille Camp). I followed the road to its end, passing a lodge with the smell of bacon coming out of it, some tents, and some cabins. Then I followed a little marked trail to the edge of a slow-moving creek due to the presence of some beaver dams.
The trail was narrow but easily followable, and I made good time. It had rained the night before and some parts were quite muddy, and the vegetation was damp. I was glad I had on running shorts. Before long, the trail entered thicker brush. It was still easy to follow, but I got wetter.
I wasn't sure how far I was going to go, but planned a turnaround time in about 30 minutes. I figured that would give me enough time to see some of the canyon, but not too long to leave my family.
As I was closing in on that 30 minutes, I came out of the brush onto some wonderful rock. Hurray! The canyon beckoned me ahead. I so much wanted to see what else was up there. I decided to go just five minutes more.
So I gingerly started making my way back down the trail. And that's when I saw something that made me forget all my aches and pains: