The Upper Cold.

The upper reaches of the Cold river lie in a deep valley, sheltered from the winter sun for all but a few hours a day.

I hiked down into that rift today, negotiating stream crossings, following bear tracks for a hundred yards (they were too melted out to photograph,) and finally descending the steep ledges hemming in the river.

The emerald green waters flowed nearly silently beneath pillows of snow clinging to the larger rocks, and I picked my way gingerly out among them, poking with my ski poles to ascertain the safety of my path.

I got only this for my efforts:

…not that it’s a bad shot, but I had hoped to come away with more.

Well, at least I got a little bit of exercise!