|
After
returning to our tent, we took it easy a while. I pulled off my boots and
socks to soak my tired feet in the cold running water of Dry River. Muffin
just lay down in the dirt near the tent, too tired to move.
I
was anxious to head back, hoping to get home before nightfall, so I soon
returned to dismantle the tent, then packed up, and we hit the trail. I
had assumed that the hike back down the Dry River Trail to Rt 302 would be
smooth sailing, just an easy downhill trek along the river. I shortly
found out that such was not to be. This is a rough trail, repeatedly
alternating between the riverbank and a high bluff above the stream. There
were a lot of ups and downs. Complicating the matter was the fact that
Muffin's feet were sore and she couldn't walk too quickly.
Further
down the river, we began to come across fisherman. A group of them had
come to try their luck for the weekend. After crossing the suspension
bridge over the river, I figured the trail would finally begin to smooth
and level out. Instead, we encountered a steep rise on the opposite bank
that seemed to go on forever. One section of the path, at the edge of a
long dropoff, was slippery and pitched sideways toward the cliff. At one
point, I started to slip but caught myself just in time.
By
the time we reached the road, Muffin's feet were extremely sore, and the
hot pavement only made things worse. I figured that it would be easy to hitchhike
back up to Crawford Hostel, that another hiker (or dog lover) would soon
pass by and stop to give us a lift, especially since I was now carrying
Muffin. Never-the-less, I walked almost all the way to Willey House before
we got a ride, and that was from an AMC shuttle that happened to be out on
an errand. It was later in the day after all regular shuttle runs had
ended.
I
was tired and a bit peeved. I could understand vacationers with cars full
kids not stopping, but there were plenty of guys passing me by who
obviously had room, including some pickup trucks that I would have been
happy to ridge in the back of. I didn't think a backpacker carrying a
small dog in an area known for hiking should seem so threatening .
At any rate,
we finally got back to the car. I sunk into the seat with a sigh, and we
headed home, stopping at McDonald's in Lincoln to get supper. After a
couple of days, Muffin's feet returned to normal. |
Muffin
crossing the Dry River near our tentsite. Sometimes I have to help Muffin
across rivers, but this time she made it fine on her own. |
|
