Saying Goodbye, Part 3

A lot more photos than words today... Carrie did a great job (it's a Shike thing)

First, some photos from the overlook at the New River Gorge Bridge state park, where we went with Tim, Diane, and Moriah on Saturday after the funeral.
This is another shot of the bridge- from the river, the Washington monument and 2 Statues of Liberty could fit underneath, with 20 ft to spare until the arch.
The gorge itself.
Tim, Diane, and Moriah.
Carrie and Moriah.
Also after the funeral, we drove to Babcock state park, home of the most photographed grist mill in the world (who tracks these things?)
When I was a child, my brothers and I used to climb around these rocks and waterfalls when we would visit with Grandpa. Please note how dry I am.
Here, not so much. Don't ask.
Carrie and I at the mill.
On Sunday, Carrie and I drove down to the New River to explore. Living in Seattle and Malibu, I had forgotten how green the first buds and leaves of spring were.
Wisteria in the hills.
Red Bud trees in bloom.
Butterflies.
A view of the bridge from below. In the distance, you can see the crest of the Fayette Station rapids, a class III-IV rapid that my grandfather inadvertantly swam through one summer day when he got too far out into the current.
A closer view of the rapids.
While we were there, we got to watch the skills of a whitewater guide from Class VI, my favorite outfitter.
Another shot, cresting the wave. We talked to this rafter afterwards and found out that he was the son of the guide that led three of my previous trips, and who let me guide our boat through an easier class III. Carrie and I are hoping to go back sometime in October for a rafting trip.
Carrie is not that impressed by the river's power. As for me, I could have sat by the banks and listened to the roar for hours.
Next, we went up the gorge a bit to Wolf Creek, one of my favorite places in the world.
Carrie and I, on our way out of the gorge. As I mentioned earlier, and as these photos show, waterfalls shape this state and my memories of it. Here are just a few that I will always cherish:
At Babcock state park.
Along the gorge.
At Wolf Creek.
Cathedral Falls, at the bottom of the Gauley Mountain drive from Charleston to Oak Hill. As a child, this was the gateway to my visits to Grandma and Grandpa's house. For Scott, this was the time to start faking carsickness so he could sit up front with my parents. Not that I'm bitter or anything...

Next in this series- Making sense of it all.