Predawn bushwacking; character building right off the bat. Climbing over log jams, dealing with breakable crust. You're thinking, 'what am I doing?'.
500 feet off the deck it starts to thin, the timber opens up, you turn your head lamp off, and taper your baritone howls (for warning the bears). Soon you are skinning, marveling at an awesome sunrise, and how the Lamar is turning green.
You note fresh wolf tracks, high on the ridge. Apologize to a heard of mountain goats you end up herding. And throw a few mixed moves on volcanic conglomerate..
You try and savor the summit. The season. The stoke.
You seem calm, but your thoughts are euphoric. Racing with the clouds. The landscape.
The past, the present, the future..
Posted by mt surf at 9:06 PM