A few geese honk far in the distance, that's all. No squirrels here, no mosquitoes, just the trees, rocks and dirt.
It is just so quiet.
Coffee and cookies for breakfast, then a hike up the canyon behind the campground. We go until we are boxed in by cliffs, a Y intersection where the two sides climb steeply up the slopes of the ship-prow cliff forming the box. There is a deep undercut, almost a cave where we look for petroglyphs, then Dennis goes higher on the cliffside while I pick my way along the valley floor.
All the wildflowers are out: the purple shooting stars with their little yellow head, florescent red Indian paintbrush, purple hang down bells, yellow mules ears, white phlox, pink tinted star like things and yellow clumpy whatevers. We spent some time rock stacking before hiking out.
We pack up, then drop down onto a dike crossing the "lake" and turn left onto two tire tracks heading about six miles to some hot springs just north of Ruby Lake. We end up on a sort of bench below a hill that juts out. On the bench area is one big hot spring, about the size of a small swimming pool, and at least six other smaller springs, varying in size from hot-tub to quart pan. One of the springs is colored blue and orange, sort of like the pools in Yellowstone, some are hot hot and others merely lukewarm. One or two have been used for soaking, and the ground between them all is saturated; the mud grabs at your boots and forms a thick, white glob that doesn't knock off easily. The access road gets bumpier and then is filled with puddles, so I got out to walk it first so my truck does not get stuck in the slippery, sticky gumbo. I have to straddle the ruts, then pop down and over to straddle the other side, and so we slip and slide our way up to the "parking area" by the largest spring.
It is a beautiful setting, across the valley from the tall Ruby Mountains topped with snow. The pools are surrounded by widely spaced shooting stars and a lot of trash. It is like people here in general make a deliberate sport of seeing what they can carry into an area and leave there. Dennis and I spend a half hour gathering the trash into a pile, securing it so it won't blow away.
The pool is warm, about hot tub warm, and big enough to actually swim across. There are some rocks at just the right level to sit, and the view is stunning. We spend a relaxing hour soaking, then dry, have a beer and look at the map.
We regained the "main" dirt road after a slow, jarring three miles, then cruised north to rejoin Highway 229 cutting west through Secret Pass. Passing groves of aspen, we dropped down onto Fort Halleck Road and took a USFS track into Soldier Creek Canyon, where we found a nice spot down next to the creek in a sage flat, bordered by a mixed stand of aspen and willow. Again we spent the afternoon reading, writing, napping and drinking, with a little hike and Sudoku thrown in.
The snow is only 500 feet above us here in the valley, and I am cold sitting in the shade, then too hot sitting in the sun, so finally I threw on a fleece and moved under the pine tree.
Dennis made cold shrimp cocktails, with multi-grain crackers and Jameson's straight, on ice, as an early appetizer.
The aspen groves tremble in lines up the mountainside: bright, neon lime green contrasting with the grey-green pine, sage and juniper. The gold would be beautiful in the fall.
We have a glass of Blackstone Merlot to read by.
Later, dinner was pork chops, curried rice, and R. Merlo Pinot Noir, a local wine out of Hyampom in Trinity County. My god, pork chops over an open fire... could it get any better? And the wine, the wine was good, with a scent of flowers (hard to pick up outdoors, what with the sage and smoke from the fire) smooth tasting but not overwhelming. Not at all harsh, well balanced, moderately strong, it paired well with the pork, but would be overwhelmed by a good steak, for instance.
Dessert was digestive sweetmeal biscuits, good with the pinot, and Trader Joes dark chocolate, which was good to finish the merlot from earlier.
As the sun dipped behind ridge, an immediate chill hit us, so we stoked up fire and huddled around it. I fell asleep to the roar of the creek, and woke up just once when the moon's spotlight topped the ridge.