This trail starts out on dark rock going through a nice little bog area. The misty clouds shrouded the treetops, and the calls of birds could be heard echoing through the woods. As I hiked along I could hear the man now and then ahead of me. Apparently he didn't need to breathe and could therefore talk nonstop. I caught up as they had stopped, but the moment I got up to them they just stepped into the trail in front of me and started hiking. I didn't feel like shoving by, and a lot of this trail has single plank boardwalk, so I just looked at some flowers, let the dogs sniff things, and then carried on when I couldn't hear him.
The skunk cabbages were very skunky, most of the flowers done with their blooming process. There were still some little fiddleheads not completely unraveled on the ferns.
On a trail that was mostly empty, I was pretty sad to hear the man's voice ringing out, "blah blah blah, and I was more qualified than her for that job anyway, blah blah blah, but I wouldn't want it anyway because you can't get any time off, blah blah blah." This time I stayed torturously close and when they paused again, the woman managed to get a quiet word in edgewise and asked if I'd like to pass them. I thanked her and then practically jogged to get some distance. Usually this is Cedar's queue to stop to do his business, allowing whatever annoying person I've passed to catch up again, but not this time. We had just started up the few switch backs climbing the ridge, so I took the steepest part the quickest, but it was worthwhile. To give myself even more of a gap, I saved Beaver Plant Lake for last and went straight for Upper and Lower Ashland Lakes. Whew! What beauteous peace I found then in the cool fog, and mossy gnarly old trees.
None of the lakes could be seen in their entirety with the mist sitting on them, but seeing the cool partly shrouded reflections of the grayed out trees, and the cheerful flowers contrasting all the grays, was lovely.
The dogs and I got soaking wet brushing through all the wet huckleberry bushes, but it wasn't too cold, so I didn't have to break out any coats. We ate our snack on the silent shore of Lower Ashland Lake and then headed back.
I knew Beaver Plant was a right turn off the trail and when I came to an intersection I thought that might be the right way. The arrows were confusing, but they seemed to indicate this as well, even though it felt a bit soon. We started off and soon were climbing what seemed to be a little-used trail. There were branches crossing the trail, blow downs, and the boardwalk had not been kept up. After about a tenth of a mile, I listened to that inner voice that was telling me it was the wrong way. Probably the trail you're not supposed to use because it is closed. At that point I slipped and fell. I just slipped in the trail and fell completely unhurt and unshaken, but it was an interesting thought that I was on a trail that people would not look for me on, and had just fallen. It was a reminder to myself to be more cognizant of where I am, and where I am going.
We did make the next, correct turn to Beaver Plant Lake and enjoyed seeing all the reeds growing in little clumpy islands before heading back to the car. All in all it was a very nice hike.
