A large Oak tree had fallen across the creek in a narrow deep area, trapping debris in front of it to form a natural dam.
A half-hour later, at the creek, Gerald decided he wanted to walk a while.
Both had driven up the Dexter Creek Road and knew the location.
I've never seen the creek so high!
The ride starts out fairly flat and then climbs—Wolfe Creek Pass at 10,850 feet, Poncha Pass at 9,019, Fremont at 11,318 and finally Loveland Pass at 11,992 feet.
With the obstruction removed, water plunged down the creek bed, dragging debris with it.
Memories beckoned from the creek so she pulled off her shoes, rolled up her pants legs and waded in the cool water for a while.
Crossing the creek and field to her house, she studied the hillside beyond for any sign of a deer.
He gazed down the creek, his expression unreadable.
Below them a creek wound sluggishly through a narrow valley.
They crossed Canyon Creek and the site of an avalanche a few years earlier, now evidenced by the rubble of broken, twisted trees and displaced earth.
In any case, I've walked that path many times from or to the creek at night.
Carmen tossed the towel on a branch, kicked off her sandals and walked down the creek to the rope swing.
She laughed and splashed through the creek to join him.
She walked down to the creek and waded through the water.
I was at the creek swimming when he came home.
She moved away from him and contemplated the creek absently.
Leaving the dairy, she crossed the field and then the creek, hopping from one stone to another to avoid getting her boots wet.
A fish flopped in the pond, probably avoiding a snapping turtle, and water raced over rocks in the creek below.
Wolfe Creek Pass at 10,850 feet was unlike anything Dean had ever seen and easy wasn't the description that came to his mind.
After the obligatory shower, fresh clothes and a hearty supper, the tired body was beginning to revive, as long as the mind kept mum about tomorrow's 90 miles and the 10,850foot climb up Wolfe Creek Pass.
"I know the creek pretty well," she said.
At the creek she pulled off her sandals and waded for a few minutes.
Within an hour, they were riding side-by-side down the south bank of the creek, searching for the blocked area.
They found the ruins about a mile further where the creek followed a gorge between two high cliffs.
At the creek Cade drew up and dismounted.
By the time they got back to the house, the creek was substantially lower – enough so that the bridge was emerging.
A whippoorwill was calling down by the creek, beginning each chorus with a kiss.
I used to catch crawdads in this creek with my friends when I was a kid.
Once across the creek, she pushed her way up the overgrown trail and across the field, pausing to watch a couple of ducks on the pond.