On a short ride to test my lights, here is where I turned back on Wilkinson Swamp Road, because I just didn't feel like going further, alone, into the darkness.
Here's the same spot, in daylight. I know the road, close-held between dark conifers, frequented by moose, deer and bear, as well as smaller mammals and, if we are to believe the increasingly strong rumors, perhaps even a resurgent population of mountian lions. It's all easier to believe in the dark.
Laurie forges ahead.
Here is a portion of the wetland. Wilkinson Swamp fills several hundred acres around the long horsehoe-shaped course of Wilkinson Brook, from its headwaters on the southern slope of Effingham's own mountain range, down and around to Pine River. The biologist who recently traversed it as part of the ongoing natural reources inventory described its heart as "primeval." He guessed that few, if any, other people had crossed it except when it was frozen and buried in snow. It's nice to know such places still exist, especially closer than the Canadian or Alaskan tundra.