Tsuisiat Falls, West Coast Trail – We fret in circles: should we call the warden? Head forward to where our companion might emerge? Return to the last point we saw him?
David bustles up: soaked and scraped from a surge channel. "Five groups told me you guys were here. The last one said I was in trouble."
Well ... yeah.
And duh.
But – mature adults all – we soldier past this point. With minimal screaming of obscenities even.
Soon we're camped at Tsuisiat Falls, the scenic highlight of the whole trail, drizzled in amber light. I strip to shorts and a sports bra, plunge into the chill waters. Yee-haw! As the sun dwindles, I air-dry, sauteeing squash and zucchini for the saffron risotto.
"Is it ready yet?" David asks with all the charm of an ankle-biter kicking the seat back.
He's had a tough day, granted ... but one of his own creation. So I feel no guilt in my overly parental response. "Soon. Have a snack. And if you're bored, why don't you put up my tent?"
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