Mary and I played hooky today and returned to Great Falls Park. Only four days since our last excursion, but fall has advanced. The trees have much more yellow than on Sunday, but still few oranges or reds. Poison ivy and a five-leafed vine I don't recognize (but no doubt should) seem to be the only reds this year. Probably the summer drought is muting the autumnal palette.

We hike south to Widewater, near Old Angler's Inn. The Sunday throngs are gone. Few people about, and most are either running or biking. A couple of fishermen with rods tucked into backpacks are strolling the towpath; not sure where they'll fish, since the canal at Widewater is down about four feet from normal level because of a breached levee.

It's serenely quiet. The loudest sound is a steady northwest wind that ripples the canal's surface and creates the illusion of flowing water. The usual cacophony of cawing crows or nattering jays is missing. In fact, there are surprisingly few animals to be seen. At first, just a half dozen silent hawks riding the thermals rising off the water and the rocks. Then a magnificent eagle joins them, and they scatter, except for one brave hawk who seems to play tag with the eagle in the thermals. After they disappear over the treeline, eleven mallards come in for a foot-first landing that could have been choreographed for a National Geographic special.

The sun is setting so we traipse back to the park overlook. Two kayakers paddle back and forth at the top of the falls, trying to select a route through the rapids. They appear to give up, backpaddling toward the Virginia shore and vanishing behind a boulder. But two minutes later they suddenly pop up several hundred yards downriver, in front of a cliff, and we realize that there's another river channel, hidden by a 70 foot tall rock outcropping. They survived. We head for the parking lot.