Bridging the Mud Trench

A trickle of excess runoff cut a muddy canyon right across our trail. You don't retreat when ground turns soft—you build. I dragged a dry oak twig across the loam, wedged the butt against a flat gravel stone on my side, and pushed the tip forward until it dropped squarely across the mud. Testing its resilience, I stepped my boot onto the slender span and bounced twice. The bark held firm beneath my weight without snapping. The crossing is open. Think you have the nerve to bridge the next ravine?