chopping block and terror basin, sep 2014

this time of year leaves are browning and I cannot be sure if it is for lack of water or the coming of autumn. we pumped uphill for 6000', not running nor climbing but ambling steadily between moss and roots then heather and tempting gneissic stones tossed from the high peaks. we stopped only once under heavy sun and hot packs (laden with points and gourmet mountain food) in a clearing surrounded by unremarkable trees beyond which we snagged our first views of chopping block then west mcmillan then terror basin.

we filtered water from the frog's lair and brewed a hearty stew as the sun set and the super moon rose, valiantly shading sleeping peaks. I felt very close to grabbing a floating realization about mountain spirit when pondering the Pickets at sunset, feeling them as ensconced giants with personalities and thought, somewhat wistfully, "they sleep here every night."

they are people who do not anticipate human conquest. they simply live their long lives rocking, freezing, exfoliating, and fingering storms as they please. 

this is all there is: moments of stillness in the wilderness.