As with any steep descent, I took this one slowly to help prevent a fall and injury. The trail had a couple of confusing turns, made difficult not just by the steepness of the descent, but also by large boulders and thick vegetation. More troubling, the sun was now sinking below the mountain that stood on the other side of the river.
At one spot I missed where the trail went to the left around a giant boulder. If there was a white blaze to point the direction, I failed to see it in the fading light.
I took a right turn around the boulder and came upon a narrow ledge. There was a 20-foot drop from the side, with jagged rocks at the bottom.
The ledge extended around the boulder, with just barely enough room for a human to walk. By that, I mean there was no room at all unless I did everything I could to hug the boulder and make sure my body weight was balanced above my feet, not extended over the ledge.
I couldn’t believe this was the right way, but I also knew in the last several months the trail had already passed over some crazy spots that at first didn’t seem humanly possible to cross.
The ledge became so narrow, and the boulder provided so few places to grasp, I was uncertain what to do. I hadn’t fallen yet, so keep moving? Back up over the same narrow part I just walked?
I couldn’t see ahead to know for sure that was the best way to go, but I decided to go ahead anyway. I continued to inch my way slowly along the ledge as the sky became darker and darker. This was the slowest, most treacherous 40 or 50 feet I have ever walked.
Once I finally got around the boulder and onto wider ground, I saw a white blaze intended for southbound hikers, which pointed a direction around the other, safer side of the boulder.
My feelings of relief overcame the shock I was feeling earlier for being in that perilous situation. Still, the danger wasn’t completely over. I was still only about halfway down to the river, and now darkness was setting in, as was a thick fog. I stopped and put on my headlamp.