Could not believe how quiet it was. No sound at all, not even a whisper of wind. The merest shuffle of my toes in my boots made a loud scrunching sound that echoed off the canyon walls.

I was inches from a major river, but there were no bubbling sounds of rushing water. It was still frozen solid. With rocks and boulders thrown from above slowly melting their way through the opaque ice.

I had never been here before. Been just 100' away quite a few times, but never here at the bottom of the gorge. Decided to take the scenic route home after ferrying the golden eagle to rehab, mainly to use the digital camera on this place:

The heelers enjoyed scouring the parking area for rabbits, finding none. And then I decided to scramble down the talus slope to the right of the bridge, down to the bottom.

It's steeper than it looks. Would not want to have to scale that carrying a stretcher. Or a can of paint.

As I stood at the water's edge, listening to the quiet, I finally discerned some sounds.

Every so often, the gentle "phloop" of a drop of melted ice, making that 100' fall from the bridge into a rounded basin worn in the ice by its predecessors.

The rough scratching of a magpie's feet bouncing through the branches of the lone pine at the top of the cliff.

And the muffled "chirrrr-roop" of a passerine songbird, somewhere down the canyon. Recognized the song, but cannot remember who makes it.

But it was sounds of life.

Sounds of Spring.

Peaceful. Good for this place.

And then, somewhen later, the sound of tires on asphalt. A vehicle following my path up the canyon.

Time to go.

Was almost to the top by the time they passed over. And ended up passing them later as the heelers and I drove upriver to go home. A senior couple, in a vehicle from our county. Probably taking the scenic route home from Central City, just as we were. Having a Sunday drive on Wednesday.