She's Got a Thing for a Spring
Brent VanFossen
active npc adaptive hints animals built-in hints complex NPC conversation female protagonist IF Competition 1997 IFComp Game memorable NPC nature sexual content walkthrough Xyzzy Awards 1997 XYZZY Best Individual NPC
It's been a hectic year, and it's time to get away. He told you that, and you agreed. Now you're here, in a grove of aspen, and long for a good, long bath in the nearby hot spring.
%
than an outdoor bath in a 104 degree pool.
Steam surrounds you in an ethereal massage.
Tufa deposits line the steep walls behind you
and brilliant green algae decorate the rock where
the spring trickles in.
A few bubbles and a small current
rise from the depths...

An Interactive Dip in a Hot Spring
Brent VanFossen, (C) 1997 - 2008

XYZZY Award winner for best Non-Player Character, 1997

[Press "s" to Skip the intro, "a" to read About the game,
or any other key to begin.]
You go north
N = next subject                                        P = previous RETURN = read subject                                Q = resume game

There is information on the following:

>  Instructions for Playing
Features for Experienced Players
About the Author
Bug Reports and Contacting the Author
Credits
Revisions
Game Statistics
Hints
Go north
N = next subject                                        P = previous RETURN = read subject                                Q = resume game

There is information on the following:

Instructions for Playing
Features for Experienced Players
>  About the Author
Bug Reports and Contacting the Author
Credits
Revisions
Game Statistics
Hints
Go north
N = next subject                                        P = previous RETURN = read subject                                Q = resume game

There is information on the following:

Instructions for Playing
Features for Experienced Players
About the Author
>  Bug Reports and Contacting the Author
Credits
Revisions
Game Statistics
Hints
You go north
N = next subject                                        P = previous RETURN = read subject                                Q = resume game

There is information on the following:

Instructions for Playing
Features for Experienced Players
About the Author
Bug Reports and Contacting the Author
>  Credits
Revisions
Game Statistics
Hints
Go north
N = next subject                                        P = previous RETURN = read subject                                Q = resume game

There is information on the following:

Instructions for Playing
Features for Experienced Players
About the Author
Bug Reports and Contacting the Author
Credits
>  Revisions
Game Statistics
Hints

This is a list of the changes that have been made to the program since its first appearance in the 1997 IF Competition. I'm sure there are other differences that I've forgotten. Thanks again to all who commented or sent bug reports. I believe I have fixed all the known bugs and implemented almost all of the suggestions. The list serves as a rough chronology of the revision process.

Since it's impossible to list changes to a work without revealing some of the details of that work,

[Press "Q" to avoid spoilers]
Inventory
You are carrying:
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of flipflops
You examine shorts
They're orange and comfortable, and reach almost to your knees.
You examine the flops
Exceptionally tacky, but the most confining things you can bear to put on your feet are these floppy old sandals.
You remove the shorts
You remove your shorts.

You are now wearing a shirt and a pair of flipflops.
About you
"You," he always tells you, "are my pretty lady." You smile at the thought. He's always quick to tell you how he likes that smile, your easy laugh, your blue-green eyes that "sparkle" so. It's probably all just a little silly, but you like it nonetheless.

You are wearing only a pair of flipflops.
You look at the guidebook
A well-worn copy of "A Field Guide to the Natural History of the Mountainous Regions". On the cover are drawings of birds, mammals, plants, and trees. Many pages are marked with notes and scribbles, and the text describes the creatures and natural features of the area.
You look up the booby in the guidebook
Latin name: Sula nebouxii

The blue-footed booby is a sea bird found in North America along the Gulf of California and off the coast of the Baja Peninsula in Mexico. Adults have bright blue feet, a bluish-gray bill, white breast, and brown wings. They fish in clear, shallow waters close to shore, and work in small flocks.
You remove the flipflops
You step out of your flipflops and pick them up.

You are now completely naked.
You wear the flops
You put on the flipflops.
You wear the shirt
You put on the shirt.
You wear the shorts
You find nothing of interest.

You put on the shorts.
You wear the pants
You're already wearing those!
Look around
You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender white trunks reach for the sky with long thin fingers, stroking the clouds that blow in the autumn breeze. Leaves of gold rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.
You go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

Ah, yes. The campsite. Last night, when the two of you were pitching the tent, it was already dark and the wind had a bite to it that cut to the skin. It made crawling into the sleeping bag that much more pleasant. But now it's weekend! Just you and your husband as he promised over a month ago.

The tent is right where you left it, of course, on a bed of leaves between a pair of the biggest trees. In the light of day, you can see a meadow to the north. A path leads east.

A large bull elk and his harem sit in the shade in front of the tent.

From the north, an eerie bugle rises above the wind and the rattling of the leaves in the surrounding trees. The large bull in front of you lifts his head, as if to listen, but does not move.
You look at leaves
Aspen leaves litter the ground, scattered in patterns of yellow, orange, and green that blend together like an Escher drawing. Small piles of them have collected against the trunks of the nearby trees.

You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
Search tent
You can't get close enough without disturbing the bull elk.

You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
You kill the elk
As you move toward the elk, he looks directly at you, and you reconsider.

You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
You bugle yourself
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
Bugle elk
The bull elk turns to look directly at you. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.
You go to the north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

You hear it again, a wild bugling to the east.
Go east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. Pockets of morning fog squat in the damp and cold, hovering just above the ground and hiding from the sun that melts the hazy edge where they touch.

A young bull elk occupies the middle of the meadow. In a ritual performed for millennia, the beast lifts his head, antlers pointed back and neck stretched tight. A haunting bugle fills the air, first rising in pitch, then dropping quickly. A short series of grunts ends the sequence. As you approach, he pauses long enough to move off to the north.
You go to the north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the southeast.
You remove the flops
You step out of your flipflops and pick them up.

You are now wearing some shorts and a shirt.

You can hear an elk bugling to the southeast.
You go to the south-east
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

Continuing his bugling, the young elk walks west.
Bugle
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.
You go to the northeast
You are on an old mountain trail, hewn from the rocks and trees probably 100 years ago. Highbush cranberry grows amongst the aspens, and where the trees part enough to let the sky show, fireweed fills the openings with profusion. The path turns from southwest to north.
Go up
The cliff is too steep to climb.
Go north
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair and a galvanized steel bucket.

An old man stands on the front porch of the cabin, leaning on a broom and watching as you approach. He gives you a curious look, but says nothing.
Bugle man
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

The man looks at you expectantly as he resumes his sweeping. His attitude isn't unfriendly, but rather curious as to who might be coming to visit in such an out-of-the-way place.
You greet the man
"Good to meet you," he says. "My name's Bob."
You remove the shorts
"Don't do that here, young lady. There's a chill in the air and you'll catch cold."

Bob goes back to his sweeping, intent on finishing the job.
You get the bucket
"Go ahead and borrow that old bucket, if you think you need it," Bob says to you. "Folks gotta help each other, you know."
You kick bucket
Bob may be a doctor, but his name isn't Kevorkian.

Bob pauses to examine a crack in the flooring of the porch. "I'll have to fix that," he says.
You look up the highbush cranberry in the book
Latin name: Viburnum edule

A member of the honeysuckle family, the highbush cranberry grows in the montane and lower subalpine habitats and prefers open areas in damp woods. The bush grows to a height of 3 to 4 feet, and in the fall, the leaves turn a brilliant red. It blooms in clusters of white star-shaped flowers, and the fruits are small red berries with a single flat seed in each.
You remove the shorts
You remove your shorts.

You are now wearing only a shirt.
You eat the highbush cranberry
(first taking the highbush cranberry)
The highbush cranberries are not important.
You go north
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

Bob looks up from his sweeping and nods as you approach, giving you a surprised look. "You ought to get dressed, my dear," he says to you in a kindly way. "There's a chill in the air, and you'll likely catch cold."

Bob stops to grab a leaf that is stuck in a crack. He throws it aside and continues sweeping.
You wear the bucket
You can't wear that!

Bob bends to pick a rock out from between two of the planks. "Always tracking in rocks," he says.
You ask Bob about Bob
"I was a country doctor, an obstetrician," he says to you. "Sally and I couldn't have children, but I made my living from helping other people have theirs. Didn't make much. So many of the people couldn't pay. But those little babies, I think of every one of them as my own. Some of them would come back and I'd deliver their child. Kind of like watching your own grow up. Did that for 32 years. Now I just work my garden. Try not to think too much about the past."
You wear the shorts
You put on the shorts.

Bob moves the broom to sweep the left side of the porch.
You ask Bob about Sally
"Sally. Now there was a woman. We were highschool sweethearts, married for 43 years. Then, we found out she was sick, and three months later, she was gone. Breast cancer. Died of breast cancer four years ago. I'm a doctor and I should have known." He looks at you and shakes a sad head. "I saw all the signs, and I didn't even recognize them. Guess I just couldn't believe it could happen to us. Of all people, I should have known."
You ask Bob for mammogram
Bob just looks at you and shrugs. "If you see that around, just help yourself," he mutters.
You ask Bob about spring
"That hot spring's back in one of the canyons, not far from here. Make sure you don't miss it. It's quite a treat."
You read the note
You take the note from your pocket and read it again:

My Love:

For five years now we have shared so many times together and made so many memories. All the places we've gone, the things we've seen, the friends we've met along the way.

This is a favorite place of mine, I hope it will be for you. And I have a small birthday surprise in store. Meet me this evening in the hot spring. I'll find you there.

Bob swats at a mosquito. "Darned bugs," he mutters. "No way to get away from them.".
You ask Bob about the canyon
"The canyon is just down the way, made of granite and steep as can be."
Brent
"Nice fella, met him this morning."
Xyzzy
You feel an indescribable sense of deja vu, and the world seems to turn inside out.

This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance. A hollow voice beckons to you from that direction.
You go to the west
You move west, into the inky blackness, the darkness so thick, you can almost feel it. The air prickles with the energy of the past. When the feeling subsides, you find yourself back where you began...

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

You can see Bob here, sweeping his porch.

He sweeps a bit more, all the while looking at you. "I wonder why they don't seem to bother you. I've got my own private cloud of bugs, and you just sit there pretty as can be." He shrugs his shoulders, and swats at another one.
You go east
Newly dug, this immense auditorium is almost pristine. Hundreds of rows of plush velvet seats surround the main stage in a graceful 'U'. Wide aisles allow easy passage, and converge into a shallow orchestra pit. There is a brightly-lit doorway to the west, over which hangs the helpful sign, "Exit."

On the stage you can see a podium.

You seem to have arrived just in time. Eileen Mullin straightens her little black dress and walks over to the podium. Pausing, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention.
You examine eileen
"Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"

"Welcome to the second annual XYZZY awards," she says. The crowd cheers. Baby cries! Slowly, the noise abates. After the usual preliminaries, she continues. "I will present the first award, the winner of the Best Use of Medium."
You sit
"Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"

Eileen opens the envelope, and exclaims, "The Tempest ... Graham Nelson!!!!" The crowd goes wild. Someone calls for his acceptance speech in iambic pentameter.
You wait for a while
Soon, Eileen speaks again. "Here to present the award for best individual PC is the Adventurer! Take it away!" With a few quick steps to the stage, Nameless Adventurer takes the podium. Away.
Wait
Returning from backstage, he/she clears his/her throat. Ripping open the envelope, he/she exclaims, "Tracy Valencia from Interstate Zero!"
You wait
The crowd erupts in applause and shouts. Clearly, the audience is pleased. Someone snickers about nudity.
Inventory
"Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"

Eileen exclaims, "Here to present the award for Best Individual NPC is last year's winner: the devil from Small World!" The devil, only a little taller than you, pops out of a volcano and walks to the stage. He's got a wand in one hand and a scrap of parchment in the other. "Thank you all. No, don't boo, really," he says.
Wait
Waving his wand, there is a flash of light and a few red words appear midair. They erupt in a shower of sparks, only to fade a moment later. Before they go, you are able to read "She's Got a Thing for a Spring --> Bob." A loud voice from the back of the room calls out "Way cool nature photo dude!"
You wait for a while
Bob walks quickly to the stage, his stride long and sure. A hammer hangs from his belt. A short discussion with the devil ensues, something about signing a contract. Then, with more strength than you would have imagined, Bob wrests the trophy away and returns to his seat. "She's got a thing for a squid!" comes from the right side of the auditorium.
Wait
Nameless Adventurer returns to the stage. "Here to introduce the award for Best Individual Puzzle is a puzzle you all know and love... Here it is! The west pillar from So Far!"
Wait
The west pillar leans and creaks as it makes its way to the stage. Rocking back and forth in excitement, it opens an envelope and pulls out a tax form. Recovering quickly, it opens a different envelope. "The winner is... Da da da da! The language puzzle in The Edifice!" A chant of "LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLP" rises from the crowd.
You examine the pillar
"Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"

Eileen exclaims, "And now, presenting the award for Best NPCs, we have last year's winner... Evan, from Kissing the Buddha's Feet!!" Evan makes his way to the stage.
You wait
Evan begins by giving an impromptu talk on how to beat the various Comp97 games. His speech lasts exactly one minute, then he says, "And the winner is...The Frenetic Five vs. Sturm und Drang by Neil deMause!" From off to your left comes "Yay for the famous five!" Then, someone claps twice and Neil begins to beep.
Wait
Ragged boy smiles pleasantly at everyone, opens an envelope, and pulls out a brush to draw a small picture of an edifice. Thumbs attack Lucian from every direction, all of them up.
Wait
Eileen exclaims, "Here to present the award for Best Setting is least, oops, last year's winner... the devil from Small World!" Once again, the devil makes his evil way to the stage.
You wait
The devil takes the nominees list and tries to get everyone to sign it. "And the winner is, A Bear's Night Out by David Dyte!" "Let's hear it for the bear!" comes from behind you. Someone screams.
Xyzzy
"Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"

Eileen exclaims, "And now to present the award for Best Story, I give you once more... the Nameless Adventurer!!!"
Wait
Nameless Adventurer walks to the stage and thanks Eileen. "And the winner is... Babel, by Ian Finley!" "Babool! Babelfish! Babel! Babel! Babel!" come the cries. Someone in front of you emotes. "Ian Finley, a man whose initials spell IF!"
You wait
Eileen exclaims, "And now, presenting the award for Best Writing, we have a rep from last year's winning game... Tato from So Far!!!" Someone yells, "Mr. Tato Head!"
You wait
Tato bows grandly. "Attend you all! For on this paper scroll, is the winner, Sunset Over Savannah, by Ivan Cockrum!" "I-VAN COCK-RUM! (CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP)," the crowd intones in unison.
You wait for a while
Eileen says, "And now, presenting today's final award, we have a rep from last year's winning game... Aessa from So Far!!!"
Wait
There is a long pause. Liza clears her throat. Loudly. The crowd is anxious. Nothing happens. Finally, Zarf, looking characteristically smug, says "Look. I'll do it. She can apologize to me later."
You wait for a while
Zarf takes the stage. "The winner, for Best Game of 1997, is..."
Wait
Zarf waits until the tension is almost unbearable.
Wait
"Innnnterstate Zeeeeero, by Adam Cadre!!!!!!" Baby cries! Zarf dances around the stage, albeit for someone else's game. The din increases, "ADAMADAMADMADMADMADMADMADMA!" The noise is deafening.
Wait
The crowd, rowdy beyond belief, rushes out of the auditorium to the west, carrying the winners as they go. When the clamor dies, you realize you stand alone.
You remove the pants
The ceremony is over. Nothing else seems to matter here.
Go west
Shuffling past the now empty seats, you make your way to the exit.

This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.

A small scrap of paper lies here, apparently dropped by one of the revellers a few minutes ago.
You look at it
Taken.
Scribbled in someone's half-legible handwriting is the following note:

"Feb 5, 1998
IFMud

Transcript (Edit and publish):

..."

The rest of the writing is a mad mass of rapidly written descriptions and quotes, apparently of the ceremony you just witnessed.
You go west
Shuffling past the now empty seats, you make your way to the exit.

This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.
Xyzzy
Nothing happens.
Plugh
This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.

Fortunately, you studied well in the old days. Once again, you find yourself in the...

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

You can see Bob here, sweeping his porch.

He sweeps a bit more, all the while looking at you. "I wonder why they don't seem to bother you. I've got my own private cloud of bugs, and you just sit there pretty as can be." He shrugs his shoulders, and swats at another one.
You sit in the chair
You get onto the oak rocking chair.

Overhead, you can see the early-morning sun as it rises a bit higher.

Finished with his sweeping, Bob takes his broom and disappears into the cabin. "Be right back," he calls through the door.
Rock
What do you want to rock?
Sing
You sing a few bars of "I Love to Hate Men." Even if you don't really mean it, that song always lifts your spirits.

Bob comes out of the cabin and sits down beside the oak rocker. In his hand is a sheet of sandpaper.
You ask Bob about the canyon
"The canyon is just down the way, made of granite and steep as can be."

Bob sands on the left leg of the chair. Being a rocker, it moves a bit as he moves, and he wedges his foot under the runner to hold it still. He looks up at you with a smile. "Would you go out to the shed and get me one of the old bricks so I can keep this chair from rocking?" he asks. "I sure would appreciate it."
Sandpaper
"This?" he looks at you. "It's just a sheet of 100 grit sandpaper."
You count grit
"Sounds familiar. Hmmm. Sorry."
Shed
You can't see any such thing.

What do you want to shed?
You ask Bob about the shed
"That old shed has all my good stuff in it," he smiles.
Shirt
Bob takes a quick moment to read your shirt, then smiles. "I kinda like your attitude, actually," he says.
Flipflops
"Those look comfortable."
Look around
Homestead (on the oak rocking chair)
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

You can see Bob here, sanding a handmade rocking chair.

Bob gives the worn chair a thorough look, as if deciding where to start. "Yep, I love this old chair," he says to you. "Built by my grandpa just before I was born. Gave it to my mother, he did, and she rocked me to sleep many many times."
You go north
You'll have to get off the oak rocking chair first.

Bob slowly starts with the sandpaper on one of the arms, working carefully to remove the finish.
You stand
You get off the oak rocking chair.

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

You can see Bob here, sanding a handmade rocking chair.

Bob finds an area that seems particularly stubborn, and sands a little harder in that spot.
You go north
The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.
You look at the shed
The same hands that built the log cabin also made the shed, from the looks of it, but the timbers are of even more uneven cut. Leftovers from the bigger project, probably. The door, if there ever was one, is missing. A large paper wasp nest fills the upper left corner of the door to the shed, active and buzzing with insects.
You enter it
You take a step towards the door of the shed, but the angry buzzing of the wasps inside and around the nest brings back memories of painful stings.
Search shed
Through the guarded door of the shed, you can see shelves and other objects, but it's too dark inside to see more details.
You examine the nest
A large paper wasp nest fills the upper left corner of the door to the shed, active and buzzing with insects.
You examine the chimney
Made of pink granite from the nearby mountain, this stone fireplace is the best-preserved part of the old cabin. Set into its base is a black iron door no more than 10 inches square. The door is closed.
Go south
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

Bob looks up from his sanding and nods as you approach.

"I do really enjoy this kind of work," he says to you with a wink.
Nest
"Dippers put their nests in the strangest places."
Wasp
"Are those wasps back? I'll have to smoke them out again."
Smoke
What do you want to smoke?
You go inside
"Make yourself at home," Bob calls to you as you step through the door, "but I sure think it's nicer out here."

The inside of Bob's cabin is spartan but comfortable. A stone fireplace forms the north wall of the single room, and to the side stands a tall cabinet. One corner serves as a kitchen. South, a four-pane window looks out into the forest, the doorway open beside it.
You examine the cabinet
Exquisitely handmade of quarter-sawn oak, this cabinet is taller than you. It fills a corner of the cabin.
You search the fireplace
In the fireplace are a pile of ashes.
You open the cabinet
You open the tall cabinet, revealing an assortment of Bob's things.

Bob comes in from outside and goes to the cabinet. "Need another piece of sandpaper," he says as he takes one from the shelf.
You get ashes
You scoop the ashes out of the fireplace and onto the ground, soiling your fingers. In the ashes, you discover a sooty matchbook, which you take.

Bob turns to you as he prepares to leave, and gives you an odd look. "It's nicer outside, my dear."
You look at the things
There are so many things in the cabinet, you're not sure what to look at first. They belong to Bob, anyway. Don't you think you should leave them alone?

"Come on out with me, dear. This old chair is special to me," he says, as he goes out the door of the cabin.
Close cabinet
You close the tall cabinet.
You examine the matchbook
Through the gray smudges you can read a short advertisement for "Anything You Want!" at Alice's Restaurant.
You open it
That's already open.
Burn cabin
The log cabin starts to catch fire, then goes out.
Leave
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

Bob looks up from his sanding as you emerge from his cabin.

Bob goes to work on the support for the rocker's arm. Sanding all four sides, he moves from top to bottom.
Burn bob
He avoids your clumsy attempt, and you can see the sadness in his eyes. "Please don't do that," he smiles. "If you want to be mean, I'd rather you just went away."
Kiss bob
He's a little surprised by your forwardness.

The match burns out and crumbles into ashes.
BOB, KISS YOURSELF, YOU FOOL
Bob just looks at you and rubs his chin. You're not sure he understood.
You search the matchbook
In the matchbook are two matches.

Bob works on the right legs of the chair. "Sanding's hard work," he remarks.
You burn myself
Self-immolation is for fanatics and crazies.
You enter the outhouse
The odor here is not as bad as you had expected, but you still wouldn't hang around longer than necessary. A single board spans the width of the cubicle, with the requisite hole in the expected place. A half spent roll of toilet paper hangs on a wire to the right of the door.
You get the paper
(the scrap of paper)
You already have that.
You get the roll
You remove the roll from the wire hangar.
You examine the board
The outhouse is made of hand-cut boards of varying widths. Its door hangs crooked on its hinges, with a crescent moon cut into the upper half.
You get the board
That's hardly portable.
Burn roll
(first lighting a match)
The roll of toilet paper catches fire, gray smoke billowing into your face.
Smoke wasps
You wave the roll of smoking toilet paper at the wasp's nest, but you can't get close enough. The wind just blows the smoke back in your face.
You throw the roll at the nest
[Previous turn undone.]

You can't see any such thing.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a roll of toilet paper
a matchbook (which is open)
two matches
a scrap of paper
a bucket
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
You enter the shed
(first lighting a match)
The roll of toilet paper catches fire, gray smoke billowing into your face.

The smoke from the burning roll of toilet paper rises, but the gentle breeze blows it away from the nest. The buzzing of the insects is enough to change your mind.
You throw it at the nest
(first lighting a match)
The roll of toilet paper catches fire, gray smoke billowing into your face.

You throw the roll of toilet paper at the nest but miss by a foot. Through the door it goes, landing inside the shed, a quite unwise thing to do. Midair, it bursts into flame, igniting the dry old shed and all its contents. The billowing cloud of gray smoke rises high in an ugly column, and when the fireworks are over, you see a disappointed old man standing some distance behind you.
Burn shirt
The shirt starts to catch fire, then goes out.
Burn flipflops
The flipflops start to catch fire, then go out.
You search it
In the matchbook are two matches.
You eat it
That's plainly inedible.
You eat shed
(first taking the wooden shed)
That's hardly portable.
You get nest
Surely, you're joking.
No
That was a rhetorical question.

Overhead, you can see the mid-morning sun peek from behind the clouds, trying to cut the crisp chill from the autumn air.
You throw the bucket at the nest
You throw the bucket at the nest but miss by a foot. Through the door it goes, landing inside the shed.
Go north
An abandoned dirt road ends here, as the trees abruptly close in and block further passage west. The road heads up the mountain to the east, and through the trees to the south, you can see a log cabin.
Go east
This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
You get the herbs
You pick a few of the tender herbs.
You search the herbs
(the picked avens)
You find nothing of interest.
You eat the herbs
(the picked avens)
You eat the tender and leafy herbs, but they weren't nearly as good as you had hoped.
You examine the herbs
Bunches of herbs grow all along the roadway. Among the many varieties, you note the low matted leaves of yellow mountain avens, with their bushy white seedheads on long stems.
You look up avens in the guidebook
Latin name: Dryas drummondii

Also called yellow dryas, the yellow mountain aven is a small, prostrate plant that often grows in large mats or patches on rocky ground from middle elevations to above timberline. The flowers are yellow, about 1" wide, with eight to ten short yellow petals and stand 2 to 10 inches high. The leaves are green above and gray or brown below. As the flowers go to seed, they gradually straighten up, with long (2") white plumes untwisting into a dandelion-like seed head, soft and feathery like down.
You get the herbs
(the picked avens)
You already have those.
Sing
You sing a few bars of "I Love to Hate Men." Even if you don't really mean it, that song always lifts your spirits.
Go east
The road turns from south to west.
Go south
You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

From off in the distance, you hear a sharp "neep!"
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

A pika appears on one of the boulders in front of you, pauses, and disappears.
Bugle
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

An enormous bull moose breaks through the bushes and stands on the road, twenty paces away.
Neep
The moose looks at you and sniffs. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.

The moose looks directly at you and drools. You realize he's about ten times as big as you are.
You look up moose
(in the guidebook)
Latin name: Alces alces

The moose is the largest member of the deer family, and is common in subalpine meadows and marshes of the northern United States and Canada. So ugly it is almost cute, it has a large muzzle and long legs that aid it in reaching the tender vegetation which grows at the bottom of lakes and ponds or higher on trees than other animals can browse. One of its favorite foods is the branches and twigs of the willow.

Its pelage is dark brown, slightly lighter underneath. When wet, it usually appears black. Males stand six feet high at the shoulder, and weigh up to 1600 pounds. Females are 10 percent smaller. The large palmate antlers grow only on the males and are shed in the early months of each year. They begin growing again immediately, and each year grow larger, so that their size indicates approximate age and maturity. An unusual feature of the male is the bell, a flap of furred skin that hangs from the neck. Its purpose is unknown.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
Go north
The moose tires of the chase and stops to feed.

This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
Bugle
You bugle in the direction you last saw the moose, but he refuses to follow.
Go south
You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The large bull moose looks up from browsing, sees you and drools.
Neep
The moose looks at you and sniffs. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
You shout ole
The moose follows you to the edge of the canyon and watches as you scramble down. The trail is steep, and you slide to the bottom.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you stands a small tower supporting one end of a steel cable.

The end of a spruce branch is just barely visible deep inside the blackberries.

(to yourself)
There is no reply.
You look at the tower
An 8 foot tower made of steel angles. An identical tower stands at the far side of the gully, and together, they support a cable between them. A crank with a handle is attached to the base.

A wire cage hangs from the cable at the far tower.
You examine blackberries
(the ripe blackberry)
Large and ripe, this blackberry just begs to be eaten.
You get the branch
The stick is so far inside the tangle, you'd cut yourself to pieces trying to reach it.
You take the blackberry
(the ripe blackberry)
You're an old hand at blackberries, having grown up in the Northwest where the bushes grow like weeds. You taught him how to find the good ones before he was even your husband, avoiding the clinging spider webs that would invariably be there if you didn't look. The two of you would walk along the backroads and fill a cup and stain your hands purple. But it always seemed worth the effort, the berries were so sweet. Today, alone, you carefully avoid the thorns and pick the largest berry from the bush.
You turn the cable
You are unable to.
You turn the handle
(the crank)
You grab the crank by the handle, its squeaks startlingly loud and annoying. Foot by foot, the trolley makes its way across the river until it stops beside you.
You enter the trolley
You climb into the trolley which swings and bounces unnervingly.

It's a tight little cable car, only 18 inches wide and 4 feet front to back. If you were sharing a ride with anyone else, you would surely bump knees, and the bench below you is rotten and soft. Above your head a single steel cable runs fore and aft to the metal pulleys that are your only means of support. The whole assembly rocks side to side with the breeze.
You turn the crank
The crank is too far outside the trolley to reach.
You examine the trolley
It's a tight little cable car, only 18 inches wide and 4 feet front to back. If you were sharing a ride with anyone else, you would surely bump knees, and the bench below you is rotten and soft. Above your head a single steel cable runs fore and aft to the metal pulleys that are your only means of support. The whole assembly rocks side to side with the breeze.
You go outside
You get out of the trolley.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

The end of a spruce branch is just barely visible deep inside the blackberries.

You eye the frayed cable that runs just above your head.
You examine the branch
It's the burly end of a spruce branch, buried deep inside the blackberries.
You get the berries
(the ripe blackberry)
Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
You get the berries
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
You get the berries
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a roll of toilet paper
a matchbook (which is open)
two matches
a scrap of paper
a bucket
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
You eat the berry
Plump and sweet and ripe to perfection, you've probably never had a berry quite so good.
You eat the berry
Mmm mmm. Just as good as the last one.
You get the berries
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: Avoiding the thorns, you carefully remove a large ripe berry from the bushes.
ripe blackberry: You must have picked the bush clean. The only ones left are too high to reach.
ripe blackberry: You must have picked the bush clean. The only ones left are too high to reach.
ripe blackberry: You must have picked the bush clean. The only ones left are too high to reach.
ripe blackberry: You must have picked the bush clean. The only ones left are too high to reach.
You get the stick
The stick is so far inside the tangle, you'd cut yourself to pieces trying to reach it.
You examine the tangle
Blackberry bushes grip the edge of the path from the west. Ripe and succulent, the berries are the perfect treat for the weary hiker, but the thorns are vicious and you take care to avoid them.

The end of a spruce branch is just barely visible deep inside the blackberries.
Burn bush
The blackberry bushes start to catch fire, then go out.
You hit the thorns with the flops
You hit the bushes, but the walking stick won't come free.

Overhead, you can see the mid-morning sun peek from behind the clouds, trying to cut the crisp chill from the autumn air.
Go west
The rocks are so sharp, even your leather-skin feet feel the points, and you turn back. You notice, however, a muddy trail to the southwest.
You wear flops
You put on the flipflops.

Overhead, you can see the mid-morning sun peek from behind the clouds, trying to cut the crisp chill from the autumn air.
Go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

A narrow winding path moves through the trees, gently climbing from west to east. Branches of blackberries encroach on the trail, their fruit nestled amongst the thorns. A small stream is visible through the trees to the south, and through the bushes, you can barely make out the shape of a small tower to the east.

A spruce branch lies among the blackberries to the side of the path.
You get the branch
You try to remove the stick from the thorny bush, but the burl on the end is caught. The harder you pull, the more securely it seems to be snagged.
You go to the east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

A spruce branch lies half in the path, half in the tangle of blackberries.
You get the stick
You take the spruce walking stick.
You put the roll on the stick
You put the roll of toilet paper on the end of the stick.
You go east
That would be a long drop down into the canyon.
Go up
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The large bull moose looks up from browsing, sees you and drools.
You give the blackberry to the moose
The moose doesn't seem interested.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
You shout ole
Whom do you want to shout that to?
Moose
There is no reply.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You go to the north
The moose tires of the chase and stops to feed.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
You go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

An abandoned dirt road ends here, as the trees abruptly close in and block further passage west. The road heads up the mountain to the east, and through the trees to the south, you can see a log cabin.
Go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.
You go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

Bob looks up from his repairing and nods as you approach.

Seeing a damaged nail, Bob pulls it free and replaces it with a new one, setting it with a single blow of the hammer.
Light roll
(first lighting a match)
The roll of toilet paper catches fire, but the wind carries the smoke away from the wasp's nest.
Smoke wasps
You smoke the stick with the burning roll of toilet paper under the wasp's nest, and the smoke sends the insects into retreat.
You enter the shed
The inside of the shed is quite dark, and, as you might expect, full of smoke. You certainly wouldn't want to stay for long. There are no windows, and only a small shaft of sunlight penetrates the haze through the doorway. Against the back wall are several crooked shelves and an old ladder. A board from a wooden deck and a mason's brick sit in the corner.

On the shelves are a glass canning jar and a pair of leather work gloves.
You look at the shelves
Although it's not clear in this light how the shelves are fastened to the wall (and you're not sure it really matters), they don't appear strong enough to support anything of weight.

The match burns out and crumbles into ashes.
You examine the ladder
It's a six foot wooden step ladder, the kind with the folding shelf near the top rung for a can of paint.
You get it
The ladder belongs to Bob, and you decide to leave it alone.
You examine the board
It's a board, looking like a piece of a wooden deck.
You get the board
You take the board from the corner of the shed.
You get it
You pick up the mason's brick, brushing the dirt onto the floor.

The roll of toilet paper burns out and crumbles into ashes. Wisps of smoke fade and clear.
You look around
The inside of the shed is quite dark. You certainly wouldn't want to stay for long. There are no windows, and only a small shaft of sunlight penetrates the haze through the doorway. Against the back wall are several crooked shelves and an old ladder.

On the shelves are a glass canning jar and a pair of leather work gloves.
You look at the jar
It's a canning jar, the kind your grandmother used for homemade rhubarb jam and peach preserves. It has a screw-on lid, and the word "Ball" is molded in script on the side.

The glass canning jar contains a handful of washers.
You get it
Taken.
You look at the gloves
They're a pair of yellow leather work gloves, or at least, they were yellow once. Now they're covered with grass and dirt stains, and many more scuff marks.
You wear them
You put on the leather work gloves.
Go outside
As you step through the doorway, one of the wasps flies close, but your fear of being stung propels you out the door.

The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.
Go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

Bob looks up from his repairing and nods as you approach.

"I'll just go around the glass one more time to get all of the old caulking off, and check the space here again," he says as he works.
You give the brick to Bob
"I could have used that a little earlier, my dear. Would you please just put that out by the shed?" he says kindly.
You glare at Bob
"You would think an old man like me would know something about that, but if I do, I've forgotten."

Bob works on the boards of the porch, tapping loose nails back into place. Then he spies the hole where one of the boards was removed, and looks up at you with a smile. "Would you hand me that board?" he asks you. "I sure would appreciate it."
You hit Bob with the board
He avoids your clumsy attempt, and you can see the sadness in his eyes. "Please don't do that," he smiles. "If you want to be mean, I'd rather you just went away."
You give the board to Bob
"Thanks so much, sweetie. An old man needs all the help he can get, even if it's just a little thing," he says with a smile. He puts the board into the hole in the porch, and it's a perfect fit. Taking a few nails, he secures it in place.
You look up the tringa in the guidebook
Latin name: Tringa flavipes

The lesser yellowlegs is a medium-sized sandpiper that summers in northwestern Canada and in Alaska. Its throat and breast are streaked with light brown, its belly is white, wings darker brown. Its bright yellow legs are long and stand out. Nesting is on the tundra, or in open woodlands.
You ask Bob about the trolley
"That old trolley has been there for years, and still works just as well as it used to," he says. "Kind of like me," he grins. "Anyway, it's the only way across the canyon."
You look around
The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

You can see Bob here, repairing his log cabin.

Bob lays the putty knife on the porch and picks up the tube of caulking. "Now, for the finishing touch," he says.
Go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.
Go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

An abandoned dirt road ends here, as the trees abruptly close in and block further passage west. The road heads up the mountain to the east, and through the trees to the south, you can see a log cabin.
You go to the east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
You go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The large bull moose looks up from browsing, sees you and drools.
Go downward
The trail is steep, and you slide to the bottom. Those silly flipflops don't help, and you nearly come out of them.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
You look at trolley
The trolley is an open cage suspended from a steel cable by a pair of pulleys, one on each end of the car. The cable runs through the car itself, which waits patiently beside you.
You pull the cable
You pull on the cable and the car slowly moves away from the tower and over the edge of the gulch. As the ground drops away, your stomach nearly goes with it, the bouncing and swaying of the trolley exaggerating the feeling of height. Hand over hand you pull, and eventually find yourself at the other side.
Go outside
You get out of the trolley.

This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You examine the sign
The sign is brown with cream lettering, and reads:

"Mirror Lake 16 miles"

The trail leaves to the southeast. Below it is another sign with smaller print advising visitors of back-country etiquette, use of campfires in designated locations, warnings about the hazards of feeding wild animals, and the like.

Overhead, you can see the mid-morning sun peek from behind the clouds, trying to cut the crisp chill from the autumn air.
Go north
Someone wanted to hide this trail, you think as you push the willows out of the way. You would never have seen it from the trailhead if you hadn't expected it to be here.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move north, the canyon narrows to a fissure, its walls rising to funnel you in.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
Examine willow
Dense shrubs as tall as you are, blocking your vision and making passage difficult. You're not sure, but the branches seem a little worn to the north.
You look at the sign
The sign is weathered wood, its lettering barely legible. It hides among the willows as if tossed aside. It reads:

"Siverson Hot Springs 1/2 mile"
Go north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.

As you step into the icy water, your flipflops come loose and disappear downstream.
You remove the flops
You step out of your flipflops and pick them up.

You are now wearing a pair of leather work gloves, some shorts and a shirt.
You go to the north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.

A dark gray bird flies to a moss-covered rock, pauses, and disappears under the surface of the water.
You look at the bird
A medium-sized gray bird, of quite ordinary appearance. And quite extraordinary behavior.
You look up bird
(in the guidebook)
Latin name: Tyrannus tyrannus

The eastern kingbird is a flycatcher, hunting insects on the wing. It has a large head, whiskers, and a broad-based flat bill. Its head is black, with a gray back and white underparts. They are common in woodland clearings and are often seen near water. They range throughout most of North America north of Mexico.
You look up dipper
(in the guidebook)
Latin name: Cinclus mexicanus

The American dipper, occasionally called the water ouzel, is common along fast-moving mountain streams. It is a round, gray bird with a short tail and large yellow legs. Its voice is a trill in flight, and sings at rest with cheeps, buzzes, whistles, and warbles.

A distinguishing behavior, making it a most interesting bird to watch, is its ability to walk on the bottom of the fastest-moving stream, apparently unaffected by the current. Then, it will jump out of the water onto a moss-covered boulder, and bob and curtsey in place, with aquatic larvae, snails, or tiny fish in its mouth.

It has enormous oil glands for waterproofing feathers, flaps to seal its nostrils, and heavy nictitating membranes (transparent extra eyelids) which aid in its regular dives. The dipper breeds in the early spring, building a domed nest of ferns and fine mosses, which it hides in a rock crevice in a streamside cliff. Often, nests will be placed completely out of harm's way under an overhang behind a waterfall. They lay usually 4 to 5 eggs, which hatch in 16 days. Lifespan is 2 to 5 years.

The dipper jumps into the water with hardly a splash and walks along the bottom.
Go north
You can't go that way.

The bird flies quickly downstream, dodging rocks and roots, and disappears.
You go to the north-east
You can't go that way.

The dipper jumps into the fastest part of the stream, and returns a moment later with a small insect in its bill.
Go northwest
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.

The dipper flies low to a nearby rock, and curtsies. Then, so fast you almost don't notice, he ducks behind the waterfall and disappears.
You go behind waterfall
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step through the falls. The cold water fills the bucket. It also soaks you and your clothes from head to toe.

Behind the waterfall is a narrow space protected from the splashing by a rock shelf overhead. You've barely enough room to stand, half hunched and awkward. Blocking your view southwest is the waterfall, whose icy needles sting when they strike. To the northwest is a watery tunnel leading into the mountain itself.

At waist-level is a bird's nest on the cliff face among the mosses and ferns, hidden from all eyes but yours. From what you remember, this looks like a dipper's nest.
You remove the pants
You remove your shorts, stepping slowly out of them.

You are now wearing a pair of leather work gloves and a shirt.

The dipper jumps into the water with hardly a splash and walks along the bottom.
You remove the shirt
You fumble with your shirt, but the gloves are in the way. After those come off, the shirt is easy. Up and over your head it goes, and drops at your feet.

You are now completely naked.
You go behind the waterfall
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step through the falls. The cold water fills the bucket. It also soaks you from head to toe.

Behind the waterfall is a narrow space protected from the splashing by a rock shelf overhead. You've barely enough room to stand, half hunched and awkward. Blocking your view southwest is the waterfall, whose icy needles sting when they strike. To the northwest is a watery tunnel leading into the mountain itself.

At waist-level is a bird's nest on the cliff face among the mosses and ferns, hidden from all eyes but yours. From what you remember, this looks like a dipper's nest.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

You are completely naked.
You look at the nest
A small nest, expertly crafted of interwoven mosses and pieces of fern.
You look in the nest
The bird's nest is empty.
You get the nest
On second thought, you decide to leave the dipper's nest where you found it.
Look around
Behind the waterfall is a narrow space protected from the splashing by a rock shelf overhead. You've barely enough room to stand, half hunched and awkward. Blocking your view southwest is the waterfall, whose icy needles sting when they strike. To the northwest is a watery tunnel leading into the mountain itself.

At waist-level is a bird's nest on the cliff face among the mosses and ferns, hidden from all eyes but yours. From what you remember, this looks like a dipper's nest.
You go northwest
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness to reveal a tunnel filled with icy water. The walls are cold and wet, and close in as you move deeper, blocking the little light that bounces in from the opening southeast. A cold breeze blows in your face from the west, but you can see nothing in that direction.
Go west
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

You move farther into the darkness to a cavern of unknown size. An ancient wind from the depths breathes cold in your face, and your eyes strain uselessly to penetrate the dark.

It is pitch dark in here!
Light match
You strike the match and for a flickering instant, the flame catches. But the cold wind from the depths of the cave is strong, and the match goes out, leaving you again in the dark.
Go west
No doubt there are crevices and tunnels for exploring, but you're unequipped for spelunking and the hour is getting late.
You go to the east
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

You are in a dark tunnel filled with icy water. The walls are cold and wet, and move apart as you head southeast toward the light. The cold wind from the cavern to your west blows against your back.
You go outside
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step out through the falls. The cold water fills the bucket. It also soaks you from head to toe.

Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.

You can see a shirt, a pair of leather work gloves and some shorts here.
You go west
You look longingly at the hot spring, but the time feels early and there's still much to do.

The dipper flies to a mossy rock, then disappears behind the waterfall.
You wear the gloves
(first taking the leather work gloves)
You put on the leather work gloves.
Smell
The faint smell of sulphur hangs in the air.
Go east
You can't go that way.

The dipper, so fast you almost don't notice, ducks behind the waterfall and disappears.
Go southeast
You gather your clothes as you leave the grotto, and are now wearing some shorts, a shirt and a pair of leather work gloves.

Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The way is narrow here, walls of rising stone to either side, and water pours in behind you. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.
You look at the ferns
The walls of this canyon are pinkish granite, the geological layers exposed beneath a few clinging ferns.

The American Dipper emerges from below the surface of the stream and stands, bobbing in place, at its edge.
You get the ferns
That's hardly portable.
You look at the sky
Overhead, you can see the bright midday sun, warm and welcome.
You go south
Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move south, the willows become more and more dense, the path harder to follow.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
Go south
This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You go southeast
You start up the Mirror Lake Trail, a fairly easy grade. It's wide and smooth, and winds pleasantly through the conifers.
Go southeast
The trail turns a slight bend, and you lose sight of the trailhead behind you. Somewhere in the distance, a squirrel chatters.
You go southeast
Hiking has always been a favorite pastime of yours, and you pride yourself in your excellent physical condition. The pitch of this section increases slightly, but you hardly even notice. Through a break in the trees, you can see the canyon to the west, and beyond the canyon, parts of a boulder field.
Go southeast
Roots. Where did all those roots come from? The going becomes more difficult as you slow to carefully place each step. You begin to wonder if you missed the turn to the hot spring.
Go southeast
The grade lessens here, and the trail becomes a bit wider. To the north, you catch a glimpse through the trees of the mountainous landscape. You marvel at the beauty and breathe deeply of the clean crisp air.
Go southeast
The sound of water becomes louder now, you suddenly realize. You're not sure when you first heard it. The trail turns a bend, but the general direction is still southeast and up.
You go southeast
There is no mistaking the roar ahead, a waterfall of some size crashing into rocks. The breeze is cooler, and you move forward, eager to see and feel the spray.

Overhead, you can see the bright midday sun, warm and welcome.
Go southeast
Ah, look at the falls. A hundred foot drop, it's amazing. Cool mist surrounds you in waves, and your clothes take on the dampness like a sponge. You think again of the hot spring, and wonder if you will make it back before dark.
You go to the southeast
A small marker appears ahead to the right of the trail, and you take note. It says:

"Mirror Lake 12 miles"

Yes, you've definitely made a wrong turn somewhere.
You go to the south-east
The trail steepens again, and you breathe harder as you move forward, each step an effort.
You go to the south-east
Up and up it goes again. Who graded this route? Must have been someone in a hurry.
Go southeast
Switchbacks. Never thought you'd be glad to see switchbacks, but after the last bit of up, they're a nice relief.
You go to the southeast
The lodgepole pine forest you're passing seems to go forever. The trees are a good 75 feet tall with trunks a foot or so in diameter. Cones and needles litter the ground, and the smell is wonderful.
Go southeast
You wonder again about the spring. You think he's still waiting?
You go southeast
The trees give way and you walk along an outcropping. The footing is slippery, the small stones loose. The view to the south is spectacular.
You go to the south-east
A patch of snow hugs the base of a clump of trees. Come to think of it, you are feeling a bit cold. You did bring a jacket, didn't you?
You go to the south-east
There is definitely more snow here, even some in the shaded areas of the trail itself. The wind blows briskly, and the little bit of sweat from the exertion of the climb only serves to give you a constant chill.
You go southeast
The trail descends into a small valley before continuing its almost unbroken rise. Your legs ache, your head pounds, and you think again of a relaxing bath in a hot spring.
You go to the southeast
You catch a glimpse ahead through the trees of a small lake. Mirror Lake? That would certainly be nice.
Go southeast
The trail descends again, the grade steep and perhaps even more difficult going down than ascending. Your knees ache, your head pounds. The altitude is definitely affecting your heart and breathing rates.
You go southeast
Just a little farther, you hope. The path turns a corner and you can see it ahead. You hurry onward.
Go southeast
You step out of the trees, the water before you crystal clear and perfectly smooth. The mountains surrounding the cirque are snow-capped and majestic, rising from the far shore and reflected on its surface. Clark's Nutcrackers gather in the trees to your left, waiting, watching, hoping for a handout or just plain curious. Lenticular clouds form around the highest peak like smoke rings around the mouth of an entertainer in a Vaudeville act. You sigh, breathe a little easier, and sit to take it all in. Life just doesn't get any better, you think. Until you remember who was waiting at the hot spring.
You go northwest
Step by step, root by root, you retrace your way back to the trailhead. Mirror Lake would be a fun destination, but you have more important things on your mind today.

This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You enter the trolley
You climb into the trolley which swings and bounces unnervingly.

You pull on the cable and the car slowly moves away from the tower and over the edge of the gulch. As the ground drops away, your stomach nearly goes with it, the bouncing and swaying of the trolley exaggerating the feeling of height. Hand over hand you pull, and eventually find yourself at the other side.

You get out of the trolley.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
Go upwards
You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
Bugle
The moose looks at you and sniffs. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
Go west
You can't go that way.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
Go down
The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

A Northern Flicker is perched high in the branches of a nearby spruce. You can't go that way.
You descend
You can't go that way.
You can't go that way.
You go to the south-west
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.
You go to the west
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

A bit nervous of humans, the four-point bull moves west.
You go west
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

A bit nervous of humans, the four-point bull moves northeast.
You go to the northeast
You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

Continuing his bugling, the young elk walks southeast.
You go southeast
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

A bit nervous of humans, the four-point bull moves west.
Bugle
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

You can hear an elk bugling to the west.
You go west
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

Continuing his bugling, the young elk walks west.
You go south
Remote and secluded, this is the perfect spot for a campsite. The ground is flat and slightly higher in the middle of the opening. A small two-person tent rests comfortably on a bed of leaves between a pair of the biggest trees. You can see a meadow to the north and a path leads east.

A large bull elk and his harem sit in the shade in front of the tent.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
Bugle
The bull elk turns to look directly at you. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
Bugle
The bull elk turns to look directly at you. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.
Neep
You make a few animal noises, but the hidden creatures ignore you.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You examine the tent
A two-person tent. This one is well-used, and is white and blue. The top is of a mesh material, allowing movement of air and views of the stars.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You enter the tent
You start toward the tent, and the bull elk quickly gets to his feet. He emits a deep snort, his breath condensing in the cold air. As you back away, he stops, then slowly settles back onto the leaves.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You tell the elk about the moose
This provokes no reaction.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves

Overhead, you can see the bright midday sun, warm and welcome.
Shake jar
You give the glass canning jar a good shake, rattling the contents.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You examine the cows
About a dozen cows lie in the shade, chewing grasses and resting.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
You hit the elk with the stick
You poke at the elk with the stick, a dangerous move.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
Go north
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

You can hear an elk bugling to the northeast.
Bugle
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

You can hear an elk bugling to the southeast.
Go southeast
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the west.
You go west
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

The young bull moves away to the west, bugling as he goes.
You go west
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

A bit nervous of humans, the four-point bull moves northeast.
Go southeast
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

The young bull moves away to the west, bugling as he goes.
Go west
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the west.
Go west
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

The young bull moves away to the northeast, bugling as he goes.
You show the herbs to the bull
The big bull elk is unimpressed.

You can hear an elk bugling in the distance to the north.
Go north
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

You can hear an elk bugling to the northeast.
Bugle
Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.

You can hear an elk bugling to the northeast.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
You go north
You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

A bit nervous of humans, the four-point bull moves southeast.
You go east
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the west.
You go to the north
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

Continuing his bugling, the young elk walks north.
You go south
You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

You can hear an elk bugling to the east.
You go east
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the northwest.
You go northwest
You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the southwest.
You go southwest
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

The elk, in a continued effort to avoid you, moves into the trees to the south.
You go south
Remote and secluded, this is the perfect spot for a campsite. The ground is flat and slightly higher in the middle of the opening. A small two-person tent rests comfortably on a bed of leaves between a pair of the biggest trees. You can see a meadow to the north and a path leads east.

As you enter the campsite, you watch in surprise at the scene unfolding before you. The young bull elk approaches the older, larger male. With head lowered, he goads the other to his feet. They meet, antlers locking in a duel of strength. The rattling, clashing sound mixes with guttural grunts and snorts, each twisting the other. Somehow, the younger of the two persists, the older pushing him backward a short distance away from the tent, but unable to rid himself of the challenger. They seem oblivious to your presence.
You enter the tent
As you crawl inside, your mind drifts back to a camping trip the two of you took together a few years ago. It was in the woods above a beach, with the Pacific thundering at the base of the cliff just below you. The wind was cool, not unlike today, and swept in from the water with the smell of salt. This same tent was new then, and you laughed together as you tried to remember how the poles were supposed to fit.

The tent is only slightly roomier inside than it would appear. Two can sleep comfortably here, side-by-side or like spoons, with only enough space at the foot for essential camping gear. It has a somewhat musty, much-loved scent, a smell it has earned with its years of frequent use.

A blue rubber bag sits at the foot of the tent.
You get the bag
(the rubber bag)
You grab the blue bag by the buckle.
Smell
The musty smell of the tent tells of much love and use, and reminds you of so many of the places you have been.
You look in the bag
(the rubber bag)

The rubber bag is empty.
Wear the bag
(the rubber bag)
You can't wear that!
You look at the bag
(the rubber bag)
It's a blue rubber bag, stiff at the mouth, the kind kayakers and water enthusiasts use to keep meals and small equipment dry. At the open end is a plastic buckle.
You examine the buckle
This buckle is at the open end of the rubber bag, and is made of black plastic.
You look at what you're carrying with you
You are carrying:
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
Look around
The tent is only slightly roomier inside than it would appear. Two can sleep comfortably here, side-by-side or like spoons, with only enough space at the foot for essential camping gear. It has a somewhat musty, much-loved scent, a smell it has earned with its years of frequent use.
Exit
Remote and secluded, this is the perfect spot for a campsite. The ground is flat and slightly higher in the middle of the opening. A small two-person tent rests comfortably on a bed of leaves between a pair of the biggest trees. You can see a meadow to the north and a path leads east.

The large bull elk is engaged in a sparring match, antlers locked with his younger rival. They have moved toward the meadows, and seem oblivious to your presence.
You go to the north
You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers to the south.
You go north
You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the southwest.
You go north
You wander a bit into the forest, but directions are confusing, and you stop for fear of losing your way.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the southwest.
Go north
You wander a bit into the forest, but directions are confusing, and you stop for fear of losing your way.

Overhead, you can see the mid-afternoon sun making its way quickly toward an early evening.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the southwest.
You go northwest
You wander a bit into the forest, but directions are confusing, and you stop for fear of losing your way.
Go east
The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

You can see Bob here, his stride long and sure, moving faster than most men half his age.

Bob enters the aspen grove, and turns to look in your direction.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the west.
You enter the grove
That's not something you can enter.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the west.
You follow Bob
Bob moves so fast, you have a hard time keeping up. But you catch sight of him ahead, and do your best to follow.

You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender white trunks reach for the sky with long thin fingers, stroking the clouds that blow in the autumn breeze. Leaves of gold rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.
You follow Bob
Bob moves so fast, you have a hard time keeping up. But you catch sight of him ahead, and do your best to follow.
The rocks are sharp. Although you have leather soles (but a soft soul), you feel the sharp edges and turn back.
You wear the flops
You put on the flipflops.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers to the west.
You follow Bob
You try to follow Bob but you can't see where he went.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers to the west.
You go east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

A narrow winding path moves through the trees, gently climbing from west to east. Branches of blackberries encroach on the trail, their fruit nestled amongst the thorns. A small stream is visible through the trees to the south, and through the bushes, you can barely make out the shape of a small tower to the east.
Go east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
You wear the flops
You put on the flipflops.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the southwest.
You go east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

You can see Bob here, his stride long and sure, moving faster than most men half his age.

Bob enters the aspen grove, and turns to look in your direction.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the west.
You follow Bob
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender white trunks reach for the sky with long thin fingers, stroking the clouds that blow in the autumn breeze. Leaves of gold rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.

You can see Bob here, his stride long and sure, moving faster than most men half his age.

Bob follows the rocky path to the east. "You're coming, aren't you?" he calls, not even breathing hard. He walks fast for an old man. Come to think of it, he walks fast for a young man.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers to the west.
You follow Bob
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

A narrow winding path moves through the trees, gently climbing from west to east. Branches of blackberries encroach on the trail, their fruit nestled amongst the thorns. A small stream is visible through the trees to the south, and through the bushes, you can barely make out the shape of a small tower to the east.

You can see Bob here, his stride long and sure, moving faster than most men half his age.

Bob turns off the path and heads south, not pausing for a second.
You go to the south
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

You are at the north edge of an enticing mountain stream. The sound of the water flowing over rounded stones is enough to bring relaxation to even the weariest of travelers. Good thing, too, as your sore muscles scream from bouncing over too many rough roads. The only obvious trail leaves north.

You can see Bob here, his stride long and sure, moving faster than most men half his age.

Bob walks to the edge of the stream and places his leather portfolio carefully out of reach of the water. "This is such a beautiful stream," he says, his eyes alive. "I come here often and never get tired of the view."
You examine portfolio
A brown case with a leather finish.

Bob opens his portfolio and removes an easel, which he sets up beside the stream.
You ask Bob about the light
"Sounds familiar. Hmmm. Sorry."
You ask Bob about the torch
"That's a funny thing to ask an old man about."
You ask Bob about the fireflies
"You'll find them in the meadow. Easier to find at night, though."
You ask Bob about the portfolio
"That's where I keep all my painting stuff," he says with a grin. "Joe gave that to me a few years ago, and I use it all the time."
You ask Bob about Joe
"Joe's my brother," Bob replies. "He's coming to see me next week."
You examine the sky
Overhead, you can see the mid-afternoon sun making its way quickly toward an early evening.

Bob puts a small sheet of watercolor paper with an unfinished painting on the easel.
Painting
"I love to paint the water," he answers. "And this time of year, the reflections are the best. Rich with color."
You examine water
(the stream)
The stream babbles and beckons to you, and flows over a small waterfall from the east to disappear west. It's a pleasant sight after the last few weeks, and your eye lingers lazily to take it all in. The arrhythmic gurgles and splashes put you quickly at ease.

Bob looks up suddenly, as if an idea has just struck him. "Do you like to read?" he asks you.
Yes
"I thought so!" he says with an excitement he hasn't shown since you arrived. He goes to his portfolio and removes a well-worn paperback. "This is a collection of short stories I found, and it's an absolute delight to read. You might take it with you when you visit the hot spring. I love to pass the time there with a good book," he says as he hands it to you.
You read it
You open the collection of short stories, flipping quickly past the contents and the editor's notes. The first story begins:

The Meteor, the Stone and a Long Glass of Sherbet

Another day wasted as guest of the Empress, a wretchedly long tour of the breath-taking Boreal Falls, conducted as ever by the Lady Amilia. As if she weren't bad enough, an honour guard of soldiers, their breast-plates red in the setting sun, march ahead of the procession and protect you from seeing anything unrehearsed. It's a dog's life being an Ambassador.

The story continues, but you close the book until later. A good story is so much better when you can read it straight through. Maybe at the hot spring...

Taking the paints from the portfolio, Bob puts them on the shelf below the painting.
Thank Bob
"No problem. Don't mention it," he says graciously.

"Look who's coming!" shouts Bob, pointing toward the sky. A black shape soars overhead, and as you watch, tucks its wings into a pair of somersaulting rolls. Then, as if that were nothing, it lands in the branches of a cottonwood just upstream. "Rawk!" croaks the raven, its voice coarse and commanding.

"I love ravens," Bob exclaims. "There's a lot of lore and legends about them. The Tlingit Indians believed the raven created the world and was the bringer of light, and they wove them into their stories and totem poles and ceremonies. A lot of people think they're ugly, all black and bad luck, but there's a bird that knows how to have fun. I love to watch them fly. And the noises they make."
Raven
"Those birds sure know how to have fun," he smiles. "There are prettier ones, but none with the same personality."
You look at the raven
A large black bird, the raven watches every move you make, every stroke of Bob's brush. Occasionally he emits a deep croak or gurgle.

"The coloration is so subtle," he tells you, "I could spend forever working on a painting like this."
Hi
The raven is not important.

Bob takes a look upstream, at the fast-flowing water and the moss-covered rocks. Then, he dips his brush and makes a few short dabs on the canvas.
Caw
"That's a funny thing to ask an old man about."

A dark gray bird flies to a moss-covered rock, pauses, and disappears under the surface of the water.

"There's a dipper!" Bob points. "He'll be back in just a second. Those birds walk through rapids and don't even get wet. At least, they don't seem to notice."
You read the note
You take the note from your pocket and read it again:

My Love:

For five years now we have shared so many times together and made so many memories. All the places we've gone, the things we've seen, the friends we've met along the way.

This is a favorite place of mine, I hope it will be for you. And I have a small birthday surprise in store. Meet me this evening in the hot spring. I'll find you there.

Mixing some green with white on his palette, Bob sets to work on the little bit of foliage that hasn't yet turned for fall.
You enter bag
That's not something you can enter.

Bob looks up at the stream, then back at his canvas.
You look at the canvas
A small watercolor painting of a fast-moving stream.

Bob works some more with the reds, adding and blending the colors.
You look at the sky
Overhead, you can see the mid-afternoon sun making its way quickly toward an early evening.

Bob takes a look upstream, at the fast-flowing water and the moss-covered rocks. Then, he dips his brush and makes a few short dabs on the canvas.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
a pair of flipflops

The dipper jumps into the fastest part of the stream, and returns a moment later with a small insect in its bill.

Mixing some green with white on his palette, Bob sets to work on the little bit of foliage that hasn't yet turned for fall.
You show stick to Bob
"That's a nice one you found there. Would make a perfect walking stick."

The American Dipper emerges from below the surface of the stream and stands, bobbing in place, at its edge.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
a pair of flipflops

Bob looks up at the stream, then back at his canvas.
You examine the brick
You see nothing special about the mason's brick.

Bob works some more with the yellows, adding and blending the colors.
You examine avens
Tender branches of mountain avens, a leafy herb. If you were vegetarian, they would probably be great to eat.

Bob takes a look upstream, at the fast-flowing water and the moss-covered rocks. Then, he dips his brush and makes a few short dabs on the canvas.
You ask Bob about the fireflies
"You'll find them in the meadow. Easier to find at night, though."

The dipper flies low to a nearby rock, and curtsies.
You eat avens
You eat the tender and leafy herbs, but they weren't nearly as good as you had hoped.

Mixing some white with the blue, Bob shades the shadowy pools that sit protected on the edge of the stream.
Time
By your best guess, it's a little before 4:00 in the afternoon.
You look at avens
Tender branches of mountain avens, a leafy herb. If you were vegetarian, they would probably be great to eat.

The dipper jumps into the fastest part of the stream, and returns a moment later with a small insect in its bill.

Mixing some green with white on his palette, Bob sets to work on the little bit of foliage that hasn't yet turned for fall.
Look around
You are at the north edge of an enticing mountain stream. The sound of the water flowing over rounded stones is enough to bring relaxation to even the weariest of travelers. Good thing, too, as your sore muscles scream from bouncing over too many rough roads. The only obvious trail leaves north.

Perched in the branches of a nearby cottonwood is a large black raven.

You can see Bob here, painting a watercolor of a fast-moving stream.

The bird flies quickly downstream, dodging rocks and roots, and disappears.

Bob looks up at the stream, then back at his canvas.
You go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender white trunks reach for the sky with long thin fingers, stroking the clouds that blow in the autumn breeze. Leaves of gold rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.
You go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The afternoon sun shines bright and cheery, illuminating the gold leaves of the aspen that glow with a false warmth.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the west.
Go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.
You go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

You can hear the sound of clashing antlers in the distance to the southwest.
You go east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.
You go to the north-east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are on an old mountain trail, hewn from the rocks and trees probably 100 years ago. Highbush cranberry grows amongst the aspens, and where the trees part enough to let the sky show, fireweed fills the openings with profusion. The path turns from southwest to north.
Go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.

On the porch is an oak rocking chair.

A Northern Flicker is perched high in the branches of a nearby spruce.
You examine Flicker
It's a Northern Flicker, "the red-shafted variety," Bob told you. It's perched high in the branches of a nearby spruce.
Go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The north side of the cabin is plain and unpretentious; not even a window provides a view in. A stone chimney forms most of the wall of the cabin. In the clearing here is a traditional antique outhouse, complete with a crescent moon. A wooden shed sits off to the side and a garden lies west. To the north through the trees, you can see the double tracks of an overgrown roadway.
Go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

An abandoned dirt road ends here, as the trees abruptly close in and block further passage west. The road heads up the mountain to the east, and through the trees to the south, you can see a log cabin.
You go to the east
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
You go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The large bull moose looks up from browsing, sees you and drools.
You examine the moose
Antlers are the first thing you notice, large and wide and made of more points than you can count. The long snout angles down, giving you a clear view of the beady brown eyes and the bristling hackles on the back of his neck. He takes a few quick steps in your direction, moving the huge rack side to side.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
You go downwards
The moose follows you to the edge of the canyon and watches as you scramble down. The trail is steep, and you slide to the bottom. Those silly flipflops don't help, and you nearly come out of them.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
Go east
The canyon drops off steeply to the east. A gentler descent is to the south.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
Go west
You can't go that way.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You give the herbs to the moose
The moose doesn't seem interested.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
a pair of flipflops

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
Shake jar
You give the glass canning jar a good shake, rattling the contents.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You throw the water at the moose
You throw the water in the bucket at the moose.
The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You get on the moose
As you attempt to mount, the moose turns the huge rack of antlers in your direction. Those points are enough to change your mind.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You look around
You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You look up the moose in Guide
Latin name: Alces alces

The moose is the largest member of the deer family, and is common in subalpine meadows and marshes of the northern United States and Canada. So ugly it is almost cute, it has a large muzzle and long legs that aid it in reaching the tender vegetation which grows at the bottom of lakes and ponds or higher on trees than other animals can browse. One of its favorite foods is the branches and twigs of the willow.

Its pelage is dark brown, slightly lighter underneath. When wet, it usually appears black. Males stand six feet high at the shoulder, and weigh up to 1600 pounds. Females are 10 percent smaller. The large palmate antlers grow only on the males and are shed in the early months of each year. They begin growing again immediately, and each year grow larger, so that their size indicates approximate age and maturity. An unusual feature of the male is the bell, a flap of furred skin that hangs from the neck. Its purpose is unknown.
You enter the trolley
You climb into the trolley which swings and bounces unnervingly.

You pull on the cable and the car slowly moves away from the tower and over the edge of the gulch. As the ground drops away, your stomach nearly goes with it, the bouncing and swaying of the trolley exaggerating the feeling of height. Hand over hand you pull, and eventually find yourself at the other side.

You get out of the trolley.

This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You get the branches
You already have those.
Examine willow
Dense shrubs as tall as you are, blocking your vision and making passage difficult. You're not sure, but the branches seem a little worn to the north.

Overhead, you can see the soft cool light of the rising full moon, illuminated by the last rays of the sun.
Go north
Someone wanted to hide this trail, you think as you push the willows out of the way. You would never have seen it from the trailhead if you hadn't expected it to be here.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move north, the canyon narrows to a fissure, its walls rising to funnel you in.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
Go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You cut the willow
Cutting that up would achieve little.
Shake willow
You give the willow a good shake.
You eat the willow
(first taking the willow)
That's hardly portable.
You look up willow in Guide
(genus Salix)

Willow is a generic name given to an entire family of shrubs that grow in dense clumps near water. They produce catkins, or pussy-willows, in the spring, and cottony seeds later in the year. They have elongated blue-green leaves, many species have hairy twigs. They are a favorite food for the browsing moose.
Go north
Someone wanted to hide this trail, you think as you push the willows out of the way. You would never have seen it from the trailhead if you hadn't expected it to be here.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move north, the canyon narrows to a fissure, its walls rising to funnel you in.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
Go north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.

As you step into the icy water, your flipflops come loose and disappear downstream.
You remove flipflops
You step out of your flipflops and pick them up.

You are now wearing some shorts, a shirt and a pair of leather work gloves.
Go north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.
You go to the north-west
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.
You go west
You look longingly at the hot spring, but you wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.
You consult Guide about eucalyptus
Latin name: Eucalyptus globulus

There is no official entry in the guidebook for eucalyptus, as it is endemic only to Australia and Tasmania. You don't need a listing for this herb, however, because its pleasant medicinal odor is one of your favorite smells.

The dipper jumps into the fastest part of the stream, and returns a moment later with a small insect in its bill.
You go south
You can't go that way.

The dipper flies low to a nearby rock, and curtsies. Then, so fast you almost don't notice, he ducks behind the waterfall and disappears.
You look at the branches
Tender branches of mountain avens, a leafy herb. If you were vegetarian, they would probably be great to eat.
You go to the north
Someone wanted to hide this trail, you think as you push the willows out of the way. You would never have seen it from the trailhead if you hadn't expected it to be here.

Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move north, the canyon narrows to a fissure, its walls rising to funnel you in.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
Go north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.
Go northwest
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.

The dipper jumps into the water with hardly a splash and walks along the bottom.
Go northwest
You can't go that way.

The dipper, so fast you almost don't notice, ducks behind the waterfall and disappears.
You enter the waterfall
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step through the falls. The cold water fills the rubber bag and the bucket. It also soaks you and your clothes from head to toe.

Behind the waterfall is a narrow space protected from the splashing by a rock shelf overhead. You've barely enough room to stand, half hunched and awkward. Blocking your view southwest is the waterfall, whose icy needles sting when they strike. To the northwest is a watery tunnel leading into the mountain itself.

At waist-level is a bird's nest on the cliff face among the mosses and ferns, hidden from all eyes but yours. From what you remember, this looks like a dipper's nest.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open and full of water)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
Examine paperback
It's a collection of short stories of various genres. There's a tale of a bored diplomat who uses underground means to accomplish his political goals, a haunting story of a man who relives painful moments from his past, a sci-fi thriller about a virtual reality simulation gone bad, a miniature world in need of a good turn, and 23 others. It should make excellent reading.
You read it
You open the collection of short stories, flipping quickly past the contents and the editor's notes. The first story begins:

The Meteor, the Stone and a Long Glass of Sherbet

Another day wasted as guest of the Empress, a wretchedly long tour of the breath-taking Boreal Falls, conducted as ever by the Lady Amilia. As if she weren't bad enough, an honour guard of soldiers, their breast-plates red in the setting sun, march ahead of the procession and protect you from seeing anything unrehearsed. It's a dog's life being an Ambassador.

The story continues, but you close the book until later. A good story is so much better when you can read it straight through. Maybe at the hot spring...
Up
You make it part way up the canyon wall, but lose your grip and slide back down.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
You look at the bag
It's a blue rubber bag, stiff at the mouth, the kind kayakers and water enthusiasts use to keep meals and small equipment dry. At the open end is a plastic buckle.
Go southwest
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.

Flickering green lights illuminate the north end of the meadow.
Go west
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. The chill of the coming winter hangs in the moonlit air like a cat waiting to pounce.

Flickering green lights illuminate the north end of the meadow.
Go south
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender trunks reach for the sky, silhouetted in the moonlight against the scattered clouds that blow in the evening breeze. Leaves rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.
Time
It's a little hard to guess the time, as the sun has set. It's getting quite late.
You go north
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.

Hundreds of fireflies fill the air, each a momentary pinpoint of light that moves and flashes in its own rhythm. They surround you, silently sending signals to others of their kind, a cold green glow that lights up the corners of the meadow. To the east, the full moon sits above the trees.
You look at fireflies
Hundreds of fireflies fill the air, each a momentary pinpoint of light that moves and flashes in its own rhythm. They surround you, silently sending signals to others of their kind, a cold green glow that lights up the corners of the meadow.
You open the jar
You start to give the lid a simple twist when you realize it is rusted on tight. Using all your strength, you try again with no better result.
Break jar
The glass jar shatters into hundreds of tiny fragments.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a handful of washers
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
a pair of flipflops
You look at the jar
It's a canning jar, the kind your grandmother used for homemade rhubarb jam and peach preserves. It has a screw-on lid, and the word "Ball" is molded in script on the side.

The glass canning jar contains a handful of washers.
You look at the bag
It's a blue rubber bag, stiff at the mouth, the kind kayakers and water enthusiasts use to keep meals and small equipment dry. At the open end is a plastic buckle.
You put the bag on the jar
That's too big to fit in the glass canning jar.
You examine the buckle
This buckle is at the open end of the rubber bag, and is made of black plastic.
Wear bag
You can't wear that!

Overhead, you can see the soft cool light of the full moon.

The fireflies blink, their green light illuminating the air around you.
You wear the gloves
You wander a bit into the forest, but directions are confusing, and you stop for fear of losing your way.

You're already wearing those!
Go inside
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

The inside of Bob's cabin is spartan but comfortable, lit by a single kerosene lamp and a fire that burns in the stone fireplace that forms the north wall of the cabin. The open door and one window look out onto the moonlit property of the homestead.

You can see Bob here, engrossed in a hardback book.

You can also see a pile of ashes here.

You watch him reading, the kerosene lamp burning brightly above his head.
You get the lamp
(the kerosene lamp)
The kerosene lamp belongs to Bob, and you decide to leave it alone.

Bob sits quietly engrossed in a hardcover novel.
You give you the the lamp
(the kerosene lamp)
Bob just looks at you and shrugs. "If you see that around, just help yourself," he mutters.
You get the lamp
(the kerosene lamp)
The kerosene lamp belongs to Bob, and you decide to leave it alone.

Bob shifts in his chair, finding a more comfortable position, but doesn't even look up.
You give the jar to Bob
He gives the lid a twist with such force that you're sure the jar will break. Suddenly, it comes off. "That's a tough one. Must have rusted shut," he remarks. Then he puts more than a dozen holes in the lid of the jar and hands them back to you. "There you go. That should do it."
You ask Bob about the eucalyptus
"My wife used to love the smell of eucalyptus more than anything else on the planet. She'd put those leaves everywhere, and the whole house would smell like medicine."
You ask Bob about leaves
"Leaves on all of the trees and all over the ground."
You get the fireflies
You wait for just the right moment, when one of the insects is illuminated and near enough to reach. It's a matter of waiting for the blink, then taking a few steps closer, then waiting again. One at a time, you capture about a dozen of the luminous creatures.
You close jar
You screw the lid onto the jar.
You eat the fireflies
They might be better dipped in chocolate.
You put the fireflies in the jar
The glass canning jar is closed.
You put the fireflies in the jar
You open the glass canning jar.
You put the fireflies into the glass canning jar.
You check what you're carrying
Fireflies fill your glass jar, their eerie green light blinking and illuminating everything around you.

In addition to the fireflies, the jar contains a handful of washers.

You are carrying:
a paperback
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
some picked avens
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook

In addition, you are wearing:
some shorts
a shirt
a pair of leather work gloves
a pair of flipflops
Go downwards
Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.

The moose breaks into a trot, head lowered directly at you, and rapidly closes the distance.
The moose follows you to the edge of the canyon and watches as you scramble down. The trail is steep, and you slide to the bottom. Those silly flipflops don't help, and you nearly come out of them.

Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
Go north
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The canyon rim trail descends, clinging tightly to the stone wall, then disappears entirely as the rocks converge. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.

As you step into the icy water, your flipflops come loose and disappear downstream.

The American Dipper emerges from below the surface of the stream and stands, bobbing in place, at its edge.
You put the jar in the bag
You put the glass canning jar into the rubber bag.
You put the shirt in bag
(first taking it off)

You fumble with your shirt, but the gloves are in the way. After those come off, the shirt is easy. Up and over your head it goes.

You are now wearing only some shorts.
You put the shirt into the rubber bag.
You put the shorts in the bag
(first taking them off)

You remove your shorts.

You are now completely naked.
You put the shorts into the rubber bag.
You get the gloves
You already have those.
You look in the bag
The rubber bag contains some shorts and a shirt.
You get the shorts and the shirt
shorts: Taken.
shirt: Taken.
You put the jar and the book in the bg
Which do you mean, the paperback or the guidebook?
You put the jar and the paperback book in bag
glass canning jar: Done.
paperback: Done.

Overhead, you can see the soft cool light of the full moon.

The fireflies in your glass canning jar blink, their green light illuminating the air around you.
Close bag
You close the waterproof bag, folding and buckling the top.
Go northwest
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.

The dipper jumps into the fastest part of the stream, and returns a moment later with a small insect in its bill.
You drop the gloves and the shirt and the shorts
leather work gloves: Dropped.
shirt: Dropped.
shorts: Dropped.

The American Dipper emerges from below the surface of the stream and stands, bobbing in place, at its edge.
You go behind the waterfall
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step through the falls. The cold water fills the bucket. It also soaks you from head to toe.

Behind the waterfall is a narrow space protected from the splashing by a rock shelf overhead. You've barely enough room to stand, half hunched and awkward. Blocking your view southwest is the waterfall, whose icy needles sting when they strike. To the northwest is a watery tunnel leading into the mountain itself.

At waist-level is a bird's nest on the cliff face among the mosses and ferns, hidden from all eyes but yours. From what you remember, this looks like a dipper's nest.
You open the bag
You open the rubber bag.
The rubber bag contains a paperback and a glass canning jar, inside which are some fireflies and a handful of washers.
Go northwest
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness to reveal a tunnel filled with icy water. The walls are cold and wet, and close in as you move deeper, blocking the little light that bounces in from the opening southeast. A cold breeze blows in your face from the west, but you can see nothing in that direction.

As you move into the darkness, an eerie green glow emanates from your glass canning jar. The fireflies inside blink their cold light, each at its own timing, and the flickering casts shadows on the wall of the tunnel you travel.
You go to the west
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Strange shapes surround you, shadows moving quickly along the walls. The effect is amplified by the uneven and blinking green light from the fireflies in your glass canning jar. Stalactites hang and stalagmites climb, occasionally making thin columns that join the floor to the ceiling. A small pool of dark water collects drops from above, echoing in the eerie quiet. Your eyes survey the room, but the only way out is east.

A banquet of your favorite hors d'oeuvres has been set out in a large wicker basket.
You examine basket
It's a large wicker basket with a handle on either side.
You look in it
The basket is not important.

The constant icy draft gives you a penetrating chill.
You open the basket
Papaya and pineapple and starfruit and plums. There are wheat crackers with Cheddar, Swiss, and Queso Manchego cheeses. There is a bowl of hummus and another of tzatziki. A bottle of Piesporter Goldtropchen sits to the side, chilling in the icy pool.

The basket is not important.
You eat the hors
(first taking the banquet)
One item at a time, you collect the foods.

The sounds of your footsteps as you shuffle about echo against the walls of the cavern.
You eat the starfruit
You sample the meal, but as good as it is, you'd rather save it for the hot spring.
Look around
Strange shapes surround you, shadows moving quickly along the walls. The effect is amplified by the uneven and blinking green light from the fireflies in your glass canning jar. Stalactites hang and stalagmites climb, occasionally making thin columns that join the floor to the ceiling. A small pool of dark water collects drops from above, echoing in the eerie quiet. Your eyes survey the room, but the only way out is east.
You go to the east
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

You are in a dark tunnel filled with icy water. The walls are cold and wet, and move apart as you head southeast toward the light. The cold wind from the cavern to your west blows against your back.
You get all from the bag
Removed.
You put hors in the bag
You carefully place all the food into the blue rubber bag. It's a snug fit, but the bag should still close.
Close bag
You close the waterproof bag, folding and buckling the top.
Go southwest
Bracing yourself against the sting and the cold, you step out through the falls. The cold water fills the bucket. It also soaks you from head to toe.

Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

Ferns and mosses of luscious green hang from the walls of this cozy grotto into which a misty waterfall plunges some 60 feet. Spray fills the air to mix with the wall of rising steam from the west, almost hiding the thermal waters of the hot spring. A narrow fissure leads through a crack in the rocks to the southeast.

You can see some shorts, a shirt and a pair of leather work gloves here.
You go to the west
You look longingly at the hot spring, but you wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.

The dipper, so fast you almost don't notice, ducks behind the waterfall and disappears.
You go south
You can't go that way.

The American Dipper emerges from below the surface of the stream and stands, bobbing in place, at its edge.
Go southeast
You gather your clothes as you leave the grotto, and are now wearing some shorts and a shirt.

Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

The way is narrow here, walls of rising stone to either side, and water pours in behind you. You have no choice but to wade, the current swift and powerful. Overhead, a small slice of the sky is visible between the two cliff faces, covered with ferns that thrive in the dark moist environment here. The crevice runs northwest to south.
You go south
The willows are stronger than your will in that direction.
You enter the trolley
You climb into the trolley which swings and bounces unnervingly.

(First putting on the leather work gloves)
You pull on the cable and the car slowly moves away from the tower and over the edge of the gulch. As the ground drops away, your stomach nearly goes with it, the bouncing and swaying of the trolley exaggerating the feeling of height. Hand over hand you pull, and eventually find yourself at the other side.

You get out of the trolley.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
You go east
That would be a long drop down into the canyon.
You open the bag
Opening the bag reveals the meal that you so carefully protected. What a classy bather you are.
You get the food
One item at a time, you collect the foods.
You hide
What do you want to hide in?
You hide in the bag
That's not something you can enter.

The bull moose, sensing your indecision, moves quickly, lifts you with an antler, and tosses you easily onto the sharpest boulder in sight.
You hide behind the boulder
You scramble in amongst the pink boulders, almost losing an ankle in one of the many holes. The rocks are cold and uncomfortable, and the one directly below you shifts with an unsettling clunk as you adjust your weight.

With a snort and a shake of his big head, the bull moose turns and disappears down the road. You notice your hands are trembling.
You stand
You scramble out of your hastily chosen refuge in the rocks.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You look at the vegetation
Weeds and trees grow where vehicles once traveled.
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

The pika returns along the center path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
Examine leaves
The leaves the pika carried were small and round and quite unlike any you have noticed in the area.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You search the rocks
The pika has hidden them and you can't see where.

The pika runs down the left path and disappears into the vegetation.

You search through the rocks, but can't find where the pika goes.

Overhead, you can see the soft cool light of the full moon.

The fireflies in your glass canning jar blink, their green light illuminating the air around you.
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

The pika returns along the right path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You get the leaves
The pika has hidden them and you can't see where.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You show the herbs to the pika
The pika looks at the picked avens but fears to approach you.
You drop the herbs
Dropped.
Search pile
You search through the rocks, but can't find where the pika goes.

The pika returns along the left path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You show the aven to the pika
The pika looks at the picked avens but fears to approach you.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You hide behind the boulder
You scramble in amongst the pink boulders, almost losing an ankle in one of the many holes. The rocks are cold and uncomfortable, and the one directly below you shifts with an unsettling clunk as you adjust your weight.

The pika runs down the left path and disappears into the vegetation.
You wait
Time passes.

The pika returns along the right path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You look up owl
(in the guidebook)
Latin name: Strix nebulosa

The great gray owl is the largest North American owl with a length of 27 inches. It has heavily ringed facial discs and yellow eyes. The great gray lacks the ear tufts that some other owls, including the great horned, have. It inhabits dense coniferous forests, wooded bogs, boreal forests, and meadows of northern and western Canada, with a narrow extension of its range down into California and Montana. It is chiefly nocturnal, but will hunt by day during the summer in the northern part of its range.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You look up kingbird
(in the guidebook)
Latin name: Tyrannus tyrannus

The eastern kingbird is a flycatcher, hunting insects on the wing. It has a large head, whiskers, and a broad-based flat bill. Its head is black, with a gray back and white underparts. They are common in woodland clearings and are often seen near water. They range throughout most of North America north of Mexico.
You get on the boulder
But you're already in the boulders.

The pika returns along the center path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You look at the path
Which do you mean, the left path, the center path or the right path?
Center
Only a few inches wide, tiny feet have worn this pathway that winds through the rocks and vegetation. Sometimes disappearing completely, it reappears again farther on.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You follow the pika
You can see the pika right here.
You examine the pink boulder
You need to be holding the picked avens before you can put them on top of something else.

The pika runs down the center path and disappears into the vegetation.

The boulders are half as large as you and made of a pink granite that is covered with lichens of various colors. Meager handholds and small crevices barely large enough for fingers mar the surfaces of the larger rocks. Nearly hidden amongst the stones are several tiny pathways.
You get aven
Taken.

The pika returns along the left path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You put the aven on the center
You put the picked avens on the center path.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You wait for a while
Time passes.

The pika starts down the center path, grabs the herbs crosswise in his teeth, and returns to hide them in the rock pile.
You get the pika
I don't suppose the pika would care for that.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
Go south
(first scrambling out of the pile of rocks)

This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.

An abandoned dirt road ends here, as the trees abruptly close in and block further passage west. The road heads up the mountain to the east, and through the trees to the south, you can see a log cabin.
You can't see any such thing.
Go east
This old gravel road hasn't been used in years. Weeds and small trees grow up through the right of way, and it would be difficult but not impossible to move further west. The way south is relatively clear.

Small bunches of herbs grow along the side of the roadway.
Go south
You pick a few of the tender herbs.

You are at the edge of a large field of pink granite boulders. Lichens in various colors pattern the rocks. A narrow gravel road, overgrown with weeds, leads off into the distance to the north. You could also scramble down into the canyon where a fast-moving stream rumbles and flows.
You put the herbs on the center
You put the picked avens on the center path.

The pika starts down the center path, grabs the herbs crosswise in his teeth, and returns to hide them in the rock pile.
You wait for a while
Time passes.

The pika runs down the left path and disappears into the vegetation.
You put the herbs on the left path
You put the picked avens on the left path.
Wait
Time passes.

The pika returns along the right path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
Search pile
Taken.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"

You search through the rocks, but can't find where the pika goes.
You put avens on the boulder
You put the picked avens on one of the nearby boulders.

The pika moves quickly along the tops of the boulders, grabs the herbs crosswise in his mouth, and returns to hide them in the rock pile.
Inventory
You are carrying:
some picked avens
a banquet
a paperback
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)
a mason's brick
a spruce walking stick
eight ripe blackberries
a matchbook (which is open)
a match
a scrap of paper
a bucket (which is full of water)
a note
a guidebook
a pair of flipflops

In addition, you are wearing:
a pair of leather work gloves
some shorts
a shirt

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
Examine left
Only a few inches wide, tiny feet have worn this pathway that winds through the rocks and vegetation. Sometimes disappearing completely, it reappears again farther on.
You search it
There is nothing on the right path.

The pika returns along the center path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You burn pika
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
Neep
You scramble in amongst the pink boulders, almost losing an ankle in one of the many holes. The rocks are cold and uncomfortable, and the one directly below you shifts with an unsettling clunk as you adjust your weight.

The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

The pika runs down the left path and disappears into the vegetation.
Shift boulder
You are unable to.
You move it
You are unable to.

The pika returns along the right path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You look at boulder
The boulders are half as large as you and made of a pink granite that is covered with lichens of various colors. Meager handholds and small crevices barely large enough for fingers mar the surfaces of the larger rocks. Nearly hidden amongst the stones are several tiny pathways.

The pika runs down the center path and disappears into the vegetation.
You search the vegetation
Weeds and trees grow where vehicles once traveled.

Overhead, you can see the soft cool light of the full moon.

The fireflies in your glass canning jar blink, their green light illuminating the air around you.
Neep
The pika shifts his gaze to look at you, but fears to approach.

The pika returns along the left path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You put the berry in the center path
That can't contain things.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You put the aven in the bucket
Some of the water in the bucket spills out to make room for the picked avens.
You drop the bucket
You drop the bucket at your feet.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You wait
Time passes.

The pika returns along the center path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You put the berry on the center path
You put the ripe blackberry on the center path.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
You get it
Taken.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You get the herbs
Taken.

The pika returns along the center path carrying a bunch of mountain avens and a few unusual leaves crosswise in his mouth, which he quickly hides in the boulder pile.
You examine center path
Only a few inches wide, tiny feet have worn this pathway that winds through the rocks and vegetation. Sometimes disappearing completely, it reappears again farther on. On the center path is a ripe blackberry.

The pika dashes to the top of a nearby pink boulder, pauses, and lets out a loud "neep!"
Wait
Time passes.

The pika runs down the right path and disappears into the vegetation.
You put the herbs on center path
You put the picked avens on the center path.
Wait
Time passes.

The pika returns along the center path, his mouth stuffed to overflowing with vegetation. Seeing the tender herbs, he stops to pick them up, dropping something behind in the center path as he goes.
You get the leaves
You gather the four small leaves.
Smell leaves
The leaves smell wonderfully like eucalyptus, slightly medicinal and quite soothing. They would be perfect in a bath.
Go downward
(first scrambling out of the pile of rocks)
The trail is steep, and you slide to the bottom.

You're on a shelf overlooking a small canyon, apparently carved by the nearby stream and 20 or 30 feet deep. A rocky path enters from the west beside a tangle of blackberries, and dead ends at a ledge overlooking the stream below. Above you, granite walls continue to rise, the pink stones a beautiful contrast to the clear blue sky. An animal trail leads up, too steep to walk, but you might be able to make it in a scramble.

Beside you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.
You enter the trolley
You climb into the trolley which swings and bounces unnervingly.

You pull on the cable and the car slowly moves away from the tower and over the edge of the gulch. As the ground drops away, your stomach nearly goes with it, the bouncing and swaying of the trolley exaggerating the feeling of height. Hand over hand you pull, and eventually find yourself at the other side.

You get out of the trolley.

This beautiful spot is a staging area for many ventures into the mountains, as evidenced by the national forest sign before you. A dense thicket of willow surrounds the landing. A wooded trail heads southeast.

Behind you, a trolley sits suspended from a steel cable.

You can see a national forest trail sign here.
You go to the north
Someone wanted to hide this trail, you think as you push the willows out of the way. You would never have seen it from the trailhead if you hadn't expected it to be here.

Rugged and narrow, the ledge you walk follows the rim of the canyon north and south. Below, you see and hear the roaring stream as it makes its way south and turns a corner. As you move north, the canyon narrows to a fissure, its walls rising to funnel you in.

You can see a faded wooden sign here, half hidden among the willows.
You go to the west
You seem a bit overdressed for a dip in a hot spring.
You drop the clothes
flipflops: Dropped.

The dipper jumps into the water with hardly a splash and walks along the bottom.
You drop the shorts
You remove your shorts, stepping slowly out of them.

You are now wearing a pair of leather work gloves and a shirt.
You drop the shirt
You fumble with your shirt, but the gloves are in the way. After those come off, the shirt is easy. Up and over your head it goes, and drops at your feet.

You are now completely naked.
You wear the gloves
(first taking the leather work gloves)
You put on the leather work gloves.
You wear flops
(first taking the flipflops)
You put on the flipflops.
You drop the flops
You step out of your flipflops.

You are now wearing only a pair of leather work gloves.
You drop the gloves
(first taking the leather work gloves off)
You take off the leather work gloves.
Dropped.
You go west
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

There is nothing on this planet more pleasant than an outdoor bath in a 104 degree pool. Steam surrounds you in an ethereal massage. Tufa deposits line the steep walls behind you and brilliant green algae decorate the rock where the spring trickles in. A few bubbles and a small current rise from the depths, massaging your tired body in all the right places.

You soak for a few minutes, and wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.
You put the leaves in the pool
The leaves wilt and disappear, leaving the aroma of eucalyptus to hover in the air. It's relaxing and wonderful.

You lean back to relax and close your eyes. The water is just perfect. The smell is heavenly and eucalyptus always was your favorite. The bubbles play over your body, and the food! What a banquet.

You open your eyes with a start. Through the steam you see motion, a shape coming closer. The vapor still obscures his features, but the movements are as familiar to you as your own.
Go west
Splish splash. Splish splash. Splish splash.

There is nothing on this planet more pleasant than an outdoor bath in a 104 degree pool. Steam surrounds you in an ethereal massage. Tufa deposits line the steep walls behind you and brilliant green algae decorate the rock where the spring trickles in. A few bubbles and a small current rise from the depths, massaging your tired body in all the right places.

The bird flies quickly downstream, dodging rocks and roots, and disappears.

You soak for a few minutes, and wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.
You eat the food
What a pleasure! Hors d'oeuvres and wine in a real hot spring! And there's so much left.

"Hey, hon. Glad to see you found it. Sorry I couldn't be here sooner," he says, as he steps near the pool. "You're more beautiful every time I look at you. I always seem to forget." His smile widens.

And then, so slowly at first that you aren't even sure when you notice, you become aware of the sounds around you. The bubbling of the hot spring. The relentlessly happy sounds of a robin in the distance. The soothing murmur of the stream as it flows over the worn stones that line its bed. "I love the noises here, the music of the wilderness," he comments, as if reading your thoughts. "And this little spring is completely private, I've taken care of that." With a wink, he steps toward you.

In anticipation, you wait, the memories coming back in a flood. The trips together, weekend after weekend. The good friends and all the happy times. Slowly, deliberately, he starts to undress. And as many times as you've seen this, you can't help but watch. Each garment comes off to drop at his side, his clothes on yours. The last one removed, he smiles and steps into the pool.

Your mind swirls like the water around you. He snuggles up close and takes your hand. All the tension goes, all the stress and frustrations leave. Gently, slowly, he takes you completely in his arms and pulls you near, your head to his chest, your body against his.
You wait awhile
Time passes.

You soak for a few minutes, and wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.
You read the book
You open the collection of short stories, flipping quickly past the contents and the editor's notes. The first story begins:

The Meteor, the Stone and a Long Glass of Sherbet

Another day wasted as guest of the Empress, a wretchedly long tour of the breath-taking Boreal Falls, conducted as ever by the Lady Amilia. As if she weren't bad enough, an honour guard of soldiers, their breast-plates red in the setting sun, march ahead of the procession and protect you from seeing anything unrehearsed. It's a dog's life being an Ambassador.

The story continues, and you turn the page. There's nothing like a good book at a hot spring.

You soak for a few minutes, and wish for the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus, your favorite scent.
Xyzzy
You feel an indescribable sense of deja vu, and the world seems to turn inside out.

This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.

Here in the darkness, an eerie green glow emanates from your glass canning jar. The fireflies inside blink their cold light, each at its own timing, and strangely, there are no shadows at all.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a banquet
a paperback
a glass canning jar (which is closed)
a rubber bag (which is open but empty)

You are completely naked.
You go to the west
You move west, into the inky blackness, the darkness so thick, you can almost feel it. The air prickles with the energy of the past. When the feeling subsides, you find yourself back where you began...

There is nothing on this planet more pleasant than an outdoor bath in a 104 degree pool. Steam surrounds you in an ethereal massage. Tufa deposits line the steep walls behind you and brilliant green algae decorate the rock where the spring trickles in. A few bubbles and a small current rise from the depths, massaging your tired body in all the right places.

The aroma of eucalyptus hovers in the air.

You can see your husband here.

"Hey, hon. Glad to see you found it. Sorry I couldn't be here sooner," he says, as he steps near the pool. "You're more beautiful every time I look at you. I always seem to forget." His smile widens.

And then, so slowly at first that you aren't even sure when you notice, you become aware of the sounds around you. The bubbling of the hot spring. The relentlessly happy sounds of a robin in the distance. The soothing murmur of the stream as it flows over the worn stones that line its bed. "I love the noises here, the music of the wilderness," he comments, as if reading your thoughts. "And this little spring is completely private, I've taken care of that." With a wink, he steps toward you.

In anticipation, you wait, the memories coming back in a flood. The trips together, weekend after weekend. The good friends and all the happy times. Slowly, deliberately, he starts to undress. And as many times as you've seen this, you can't help but watch. Each garment comes off to drop at his side, his clothes on yours. The last one removed, he smiles and steps into the pool.

Your mind swirls like the water around you. He snuggles up close and takes your hand. All the tension goes, all the stress and frustrations leave. Gently, slowly, he takes you completely in his arms and pulls you near, your head to his chest, your body against his.