But we didn't always stay on the the trail. We found ourselves, along with our cousins and 70-year old aunt, climbing the rocks and steep ridges looking for little hidden treasures, following clues downloaded from the internet, in a popular outdoor scavenger hunt known as geocaching. Clues ranged from the shape of rocks and Red Hot Chili Pepper lyrics to the life history of animals, and the prizes were generally little trinkets of junk wrapped cleverly in taped, camouflage boxes hidden beneath the rocks or duff of the forest. Apparently, it's the rage. I took home a geocaching souvenir, a rubber green key chain from some nature-oriented organization. Once we claimed our prize, we traded it with a souvenir of our own (like how about a coupon from a California restaurant), re-hid the box, and headed up the trail to the next spot.
At the northwest tip of the loop, after a short detour to Lucy's Overlook, we beheld the famous tripod rock--the glacial erratic phenonomenon of a huge boulder balanced on top of three smaller rocks, which appeared to be a physically impossible balancing act. It is unknown if this structure was formed naturally, modified by humans, or as local legend implies, levitated by some intervention of native spirituality. In any case, it was historically a spiritual location for the natives of Pyramid Mountain.
After much hiking and geocaching, we took a small rest stop on the spectacular overlook on the eastern side of the loop, bedding down on notoriously flat ledges of solid rock that served as both a resting and viewing platform. We saw miles of forested hills, but it has been said that on a clear day, one could see as far as New York City. After almost snoozing in the late morning sun in this relaxing spot, we were re-charged to descend down the trail to the shore of Taylortown Reservoir. We tried not to get too confused following the blue, white, yellow, or orange tags painted on the trees and rocks that marked our trail back to the parking lot, especially when the "trail" was but a pile of boulders that needed to be traversed.
It was lunch time when we emerged and we were all a bit tired and hungry. So we headed down Boonton Avenue into the eclectic little town of Boonton, and had deli sandwiches at Don's Sandwich Shop on Main Street, a combination mom-and-pop deli and music store--specifically for drummers--so you can pick up your delicious sandwich and drum head or sticks in one stop. Then we were back on the interstates, returning to the maze of cities in eastern New Jersey.
