The story
The shore pinches in along here and the water comes up close and clear — stand still a moment and look straight down off the path. This shallow margin is the lake's pantry: caddisfly cases like little gravel sleeping bags on the stones, water boatmen sculling, and if you hold still for thirty seconds, trout will resume patrolling the drop-off as if you'd never come.
The boulders scattered along this stretch are glacial leftovers — plucked off the peaks by the ice, carried here, and dropped where the melt let go of them. Geologists call them erratics, which is a fine name for a rock that wandered.
Almost home now — the path runs on toward the junction where you first came down.
Photo: King of Hearts · CC BY-SA 4.0
