My annoyance at this fine state had dissipated.
Behold, one of my all-time best swimming holes. There was a fork in the trail, and we took it, descending down towards the sound of a stream crashing and cavorting. Knowing full well that it would be the most bracing, icy water I'd experienced in quite some time, I dove in. Sure enough, my skin bristled and screamed. However, it was fantastic. I cajoled some newcomers to dive in as well. I jumped from the rock after skirting the edge of the water along the rock face. I questioned whether the swim across the fairly sizable hole would be too long of a swim in such freezing water. It wasn't too hard to imagine gold miners in this stream. Remnants of the mining era were everywhere. There were unexplained contraptions strewn about the forest. The construction of the machinery was impressive, let alone the fact that somehow these iron monstrosities, most likely thousands of pounds, got here initially. Awe-inspiring, for certain. I think this may be my favorite place in Oregon. That's quite a statement, seeing as there is a certain degree of scenic snobbery around these parts. Case in point, the most beautiful camp site I have ever known.
