Heading Back, White Hill Wild Forest Part 4

The dogs and I explored the swamp as best we could given the few rocks on which to stand. I decided that this was not Rock Pond because it was on the wrong side of the trail and - well, I didn't think we were on the right trail anyway. But if you notice the small stump in front of Daphne and Seamus, you'll see that it was the work of a beaver. So this was a beaver swamp:

But this was as far as I was willing to go. The deer flies and mosquitoes were ravenous and the air was hot and sticky. We began retracing our steps through the forest:

Although we took the same trail, I noticed many things I'd missed the first time. This mushroom, for instance:

Fergus's muddy feet stayed with him the entire way back. Daphne also had muddy feet, but hers pretty much dried up and fell off. That's why they call Papillons a "wash and wear" coated breed, I guess:

A creamy white, upturned mushroom surrounded by Shining Clubmoss:

And a white-bread, puffy mushroom looking shyly from behind a fern frond:

This was glorious country in spite of the heat, humidity, mosquitoes and deer flies. I managed to focus my mind on its wild beauty, at least in between my slapping at the bug bites:

We again crossed the wooden bridge which I supposed was built for snowmobilers. The air down around the creek was cooler and more pleasant, but that was only temporary:

We passed more gray flannel mushrooms:

And continued on through the White Hill Wild Forest. Notice Seamus' new, improved svelte figure. He hasn't looked so thin since he was a youngster:

And another gray mushroom, this one with what looked like it'd had a baby. The variety of mushrooms added immensely to my enjoyment of the hike. But we were by this time nearing the beginning of the trail and Clear Pond. I'll post more tomorrow: