Further? Well, there's the car.
Back to the scene of last Friday's crime, walking on the continuation of the now-unpaved Mosquito Ridge Road beyond French Meadows Reservoir. This after a morning of score and parts for Elijah Ghost: VI and page 3 of The Gospel According to St. Matthew: XVI. The Tax Collector orchestration, followed by paper grading at Bootlegger's in Auburn over a shrimp po' boy (what will be thought of next?) and cabernet.
It gets a bit more rustic, between Chalk Bluff and the dwindling Middle Fork of the American River, with
Granite Chief beckoning. "There's a better shot just ahead," call out a couple of friendly-helpful bicyclists of a certain age, the first such recreationalists that I've seen in many a walk.
And the last for now, as the Chipmunk Ridge
falls behind in the deepening woods.
The moon is a distant companion, until mileage post 42 (reckoned from Foresthill), scouting out the route unfolding on route 51,
abandoning the Mosquito Ridge Road's ascent of Red Star, where the
signs are maybe no-
maybe yes- believable.
Turning around for the evening, the last light is captured at the French Meadows south boat ramp,
as the Granite
glowers, and
the glow
fades in
ghosts.
All the more reason to hasten back, not without detours, to finish Ghost: VI.
