The road eventually met the Swift River, the eastward flowing river that empties this part of the mountains. Just as rocky a its western twin, it pauses to cut through the living stone at places like Rocky Gorge, a large picnic area. We paused here, and I hiked out to a suspension bridge that offered a view of the half-frozen falls that rushed down a narrow rock crevasse, and seemed to glow a glacier blue in the light of the slowly setting sun. The fresh snow had drifted off the old frozen layers of icy crusted surface, adding to the textures of black trees and gray granite under the dimming yellow light of the sun, creating a study of contrasts that was a delight to take photos of.
Slowly we drove along, admiring the cliffs, and passing the upper falls rest area which was unplowed and undergoing reconstruction. Like other places, the raw cuts through the cliffs were covered with a frozen cascade of icicles, looking like a frozen cake topped with trees. By now, the sun was too low to revisit the Albany Covered Bridge, which we had seen on an earlier drive. Given the hour, it was better to strike out for home, an hour and a half away.