Follow the thin dirt trail along the forest ridge. Mind the rocks and roots. Trust the meandering path and the late-afternoon sun beckoning behind the leaves. The way rises and falls and then opens onto a quiet bank beside the river.
The water is a mirror. Water-striders are sparks flitting across a ribbon of reflected sky. The fish peck at clouds. Ripples expand in crisscrossing circles, making doorways to imaginary worlds.
There are no other footprints here, but there are coal scars in the sand: the memory of campfires and good company.
Why not sit down and stay for a while?