Soon the storm was over and the sun came out, rising mist off the drenched ground. We pressed on, fallowing a rocky ridge, and came to a long narrow lake lying against the base of a rocky cliff. Huge angular boulders had broken off to tumble down and lie in profusion along the shore. We decided to camp here so the goats could enjoy a climb on the rocks and cliff face. As soon as their packs were off they were climbing on the boulders and playing “King of the Castle.”
From here, the mountain top we were following began a long slope down into the canyon we had noted on the map. I was pleased to see it was grassland and not heavily timbered. Far below you could see a ribbon of highway and a small settlement. Logan visualized our goats being harassed by town dogs if we went there so we aimed our descent to arrive at the highway out of town where someone could meet us with a truck. Not wishing to reach the highway late in the day, we made camp a bit short of our journey’s end. There was a nice spring of cool water and plenty of fire wood for an evening fire. Again Chelsea was able to reach home with that magic telephone of hers and arrange a meeting for the next day. We spent many hours by the fire that night before turning in, reluctant to end it all.
Morning dawned bright and clear. With a bit of fanning, the embers of the fire were soon resurrected and we ate a leisurely breakfast while watching a Red- tailed hawk searching the mountain side for his. Camp was easily packed and we set off, picking our way down the final leg of our journey. At the bottom of the canyon we looked across a fast flowing stream to see cars and trucks speeding by on the highway. The water was about five meters across and to deep to wade. We searched along the bank till we found an old pine snag standing close to the shore. With the three of us pushing it fell across the stream forming a solid foot bridge. Chelsea and Logan scampered across like two squirrels. When they called, the goats all followed in single file, with me bringing up the rear. I looked up to see cars parked along the highway and our crossing being photographed. No doubt the pictures entered more than one collection.
We didn’t have long to wait for transportation. We were no sooner unpacked than Logan cried out,”There’s mom with the truck.” Before long we were home. One day there would be another adventure, we could only wonder what it would be.
