Along the stream I found another fallen tree. As I stood considering crossing the water with the aid of the broken tree, I could still hear the groaning of the listing tree and the thundering crash as it hit the rock across the stream. Balancing my tripod and camera on my shoulders, I grasped the tree and crossed over to the other side.

 

 

On the other side of the stream was a path that led up the side of the valley.

 

 

I followed the path around a ridge from which I could see the stream below. A warm breeze tinged with the scent of fermenting persimmons wafted up the side of the hill.