I’ve spent many hours following this creek along the edge of the bog, but have focused mainly on the area near the centre of the bog where the beavers flood the pathways and their are dark, heavily covered pine forests. Here the creek is next to the rail line. Trains come through at faster speeds than you would expect. Overhead a large bridge leads to an island and then back to the mainland, and the smell of cedar trees being cut in a nearby lumber yard fills the air.
The creek by the bog.
