|Wooden path through the marsh|
Out the backdoor one evening I ran alongside a creek bed that lead directly to the infamous Donner Party Campsite. Sort of the last unfortunate stop for a wagon train of pioneers in the 1840's. The party of 87 men, women, and children (lots of children actually), traveled all the way from Illinois on their way to the coast, but were halted at this point by un-navigable snow pack and cold. Almost all eventually succumbed to exposure, starvation, and other sordid and horrific means of death. I found the conditions to be quite a bit better during my visit so I sort of strode on down the interpretive path and tried to be respectful of history and man's mortality.
|Donner Camp Site marker - difficult to read, but the last line says 'They came west seeking a new life and found misery and death'|
|Frozen graveyard marsh trail|
|Hockey players on the far bank of ice|
|Imminent death and the ghostly whiteness of my knee|
Finding more trail on the south side of the lake I ran home through winding trail beneath giant pines and a darkening night. Recovered later with beer and sake, a wistful toast to those who traveled so far just not far enough.
|The haunted and apparition-y visage of an ice-walking trail-roamer|
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