racing up the trail

Ahoy,

I remember my first conscious view out the airplane window as the plane swept across the landscape of the Western States. It struck me how much it looked like crinkled tissue paper. The grand Rockies and Sierras, breathtaking in pictures from the Earth - the stuff of American folklore and legend, could be described so simply from afar. I'll guess I must have been trying to diminish the grandeur of this fabled and coveted place West of the Mississippi that I did not want to venture. That was over 10 years ago now. 

There was a period during early pandemic when we went on a hike every weekend. We saw a lot of the Angeles Crest because it was close enough and somewhat of a little known secret because there is just so much there. Many of the trails we selected were not very crowded - sometimes we would only encounter one other party. We also were trying to go early enough to beat the crowds and heat. We got to the top of some crinkles of tissue paper. The next time I flew over the landscape, I had a somewhat different perspective. 

Trekking all across the Angeles Crest had made it more familiar to me, and I found myself wanting to trace the trails across the crinkles. I tried to pick out the peaks and draw the lines across to the other peaks. I squinted to look closer for the tree that I hung my jacket on or the critters that scattered upon my step. Was it possible to get to know someone so well?

As sunrise came earlier and earlier we found ourselves less eager to race to the trail. Fires eventually swept across the Crest and we sought respite elsewhere. But early pandemic will be a period of time when we got to know the mountains in our backyard better than we would have otherwise. 

happy trails,

jt