The late afternoon light was nearly gone, and the sky was mostly gray. The snow reflected enough light so that I could still take photos. I experimented with editing in Picasa to make some completely black and white. I think you can see the textures and contrast more clearly in the black and white ones, but it didn’t look right for all of them so I just did a couple that way.
We heard several owls hooting in the trees across the frozen river. Two were nearly straight across from us, and the other one was much further up the river and its hoot was very faint.
The snow was drifting down, just a few flakes at a time.
Near the river, we could hear the water rushing over the rocks with quite a roar, and all that excitement slipped quickly and quietly back beneath the ice to continue its smooth, slippery icy journey hidden from sight.
The stairways down to and back up from the river were treacherous. It was solid sheets and banks of ice under a thin blanket of new snow on very uneven disheveled random width stairs. At one point I was hanging onto the rail with both arms wrapped around it, nearly laying on top of it with my feet ready to splay out behind me. I said “I’m done. When we get to the top, we’re going home.” But it was worth the effort to see and hear the frozen river and the owls hooting.