Memories from July 9
Someone disfigured some trail markers. I’d love to follow this particular advice but didn’t have cell service.
Much of Plumas National Forest seems uniquely quite. When I was far enough above the Middle Fork of the Feather River, it was almost silent. Every once in a while there would be a bird call. There was no wind. Deer and squirrels skill made noise as they darted away but I have never been so acquainted with the sound of my shoes crunching the packs dirt of the trail. Here’s the loudest thing I heard for most of the morning. Even the logging operation I ran across later seemed to leave a lot of interstitial space for the sound of silence. I remembered this from when I hiked through six years ago and had expected it to move me towards reflection and introspection. While I prayed a little while I walked, it really didn’t have the expected effect.
The view from lookout rock. The density of the forest did have a similarly inspiring, if lower magnitude effect than when I last passed through.
Isaac Takes A Hike 