The mountains - Tinker and Brushy, McAfee's Knob and Dead Man - are a passive mystery, the oldest of all. Theirs is the one simple mystery of creation from nothing, of matter itself, anything at all, the given. Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back as some creeks will. The creeks are the world with all its stimulus and beauty. I live there. But the mountains are home. Annie Dillard
Top photo: A beautiful day for tracking. Above: My favorite tree from my bushwhack yesterday.
It felt like a summer day up here yesterday. The high reached 50 degrees and it felt even warmer with the sun reflecting off the snow. The low was 30 degrees. It was 37 and cloudy at observation. It looks like we'll have another mild, clear afternoon once these clouds pass through.
I spent yesterday afternoon tracking my elusive friend. I followed tracks for three hours all over the mountain. I figured I was somewhere north of the shelter and then ended up on the Boulevard trail near Myrtle point. Oooops! I guess I had better get a nice orienteering compass so that I don't get permanently lost trying to meet my neighbor. I learnt this yesterday - the little guy/gal has excellent taste in bushwhacks!
My sneaky little neighbor finds a way through the thick red pines!
A well deserved break at Myrtle Point after my adventure.
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