We could hear the sounds of the trains in our minds and imagine how little the views had changed since the first train passed this way in 1888.
My brother and I rolled down the southern half of an old railroad grade now the Bearskin Trail on our bikes through woodlands past springs, creeks and streams on a pleasing summer day.
Flowers bloomed that we know not their names, but they didn’t seem to mind.
A stop for a swim at South Blue Lake helped ease the pain and aches of an extensive bike ride that we would do again.
