El Questro Station

Across from Emma Gorge, was the entrance to El Questro Wilderness Park. A long bumpy drive in. We booked two nights and found a spot on the edge of the crowded campground.
Music, dinner, and drinks pre-empted my birthday celebration the next day, climbing El Questro Gorge.
We set out on a narrow path by a creek, between gorge walls. The path ended at a pool, rimmed by a high rock wall. It was just the beginning. We jumped in and waded through waist-deep water to the rock wall. Red threw up the daypack. With a boost and a push from behind, I climbed up. Red, strong and surefooted, ascended with ease.
The next part was straight up a sheer rock face. The steep wall of the narrow gorge cold in shadow. To scale the wall, I felt for a foothold, grabbed a branch, reached—slipped. Red coaxed, ‘Easy!’
How often I’d been in such a precarious place, everything suspended on a slippery knob. I was glad of his support.
We dipped into the icy chasm below