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Why are mountains always tired?
Because they don’t ever-rest!
To enjoy bodily warmth,
some small part of you
must be cold,
for there is no quality in this world
that is not what it is merely by contrast.
Nothing exists in itself.
a quote from “Moby Dick “.
via Eli Francovich, Spokesman Outdoor Editor. 6.2021
Like Yellowstone, or Glacier, Hood, Baker and all the other beautiful places.......
.....one should not miss, walking along The Wigwam’s north ridge.
is to open your mind
To listen for ideas
close to topic.
To form a story.
that is absorbed
To allow the author
and the reader
is to bare your soul.
To not write
is to be stifled.
We walked deep into the woods.
The vine maple was hell.
The downs turned to ups.
The struggle was hell.
Our shins looked like hell.
If it weren't for the physical exercise
It may have been hell.
Across from the lookout towers on Lookout Mountain,
stands a massive of rock slab.
One that resembles a partially peeled onion.
Photographs don't do it justice.
You simply have to see it for yourself.
We spied the ridge from afar.
We saw it anew.
We will walk on it one day.
We see now our goal.
It is the south ridge of the Cirque of Spires.
(named Cirque of Spires by Chic to identify an unnamed ridge of spires near Loins Head Peak)
We spied the ridge from afar.
We saw it anew.
We will walk on it one day.
We see now our goal.
It is the south ridge of the Cirque of Spires.
(this name was made by me to identify an area in the Selkirks)
There is a high.
A high that comes
from being in the mountains.
If you'd never been there,
you are missing out.
Go to the mountains.
Experience nature's high.
When I looked out today
and took in the view of
eastern Spokane Valley,
with it's lush greens,
and three small lakes,
dotting it's perimeter,
I realized again
the beauty of the valley
we all live in.
We are surrounded
by forested foothills,
topped off by our own
Mt. Spokane, rising high
in the northeast.
Our valley was formed
by glacial processes,
and floods of catastrophic
This valley east of Spokane
is quite a unique region.
There is a passion
in our hearts
and our souls.
that draws us
to the mountains
of the world.
It is not
"Just because it's there"
but rather because
we can be there.
with lots of effort
scale these mountains
and feel their faces
and touch their souls.
The Native American Indians
everything has a spirit.
Once you isolate yourself
on its face
and feel your energy
and its magnificence
you realize that you
and the mountain
On a journey of your mind.
is a physical experience
that pumps your arms
and shakes your legs.
But more than anything
it taxes your brain
to solve each and every
problem big or small.
And once you've solved
whether it's a crux move
or finally standing
on its summit.
from your soul
with a spirit
only you can know.
It is an old feature, one that causes great desire,
and one that causes great mental and physical pain.
The crux is seldom conquered on the first attept.
But rather has been worked on like any difficult task.
The crux causes you to pump enormous energy
thru your body.
And once its been conquered, the high is so great
that you can't wait to do it again.
There is a brotherhood amongst climbers.
One that allows you, to put your life in another's hands.
As you stand below, watching your partner carefully
scale a face, your energies are as high.
It seems to travel up the rope to them.
As you scale the face and feel the energy, it gives you
a tremendous rush.
That brotherhood among climbers is a joy that is hard to beat.
Its amazing to me that I find myself relying on such small hand holds.
But that is the trick of this game.
As each s tested by my hands, my eyes seek out others so my feet will feel the security of that tiny nubbin.
Soon, I seem to flow like fluid p the rock.
My mind is exercised to find and remember these tiny laces.
But all too soon, find myself on top, waiting o play some more.
Its an odd sensation that snaps you back to reality all to fast, for your mind to comprehend.
Falling is as much a part of climbing, as any move you make.
However, I try to avoid it as often as possible.
It is that sensation tha makes you move with caution, and keeps you from becoming too foolish.
Altho its ever present, I recommend you not become to practiced in it.
There is one sensation that I wish not to feel as I climb.
Fear I'll hold you back when you should rely on your abilities.
If you find yourself pushing your abilities beyond your limits, you find yourself alone.
If only we could control our fears, we may just find a secure hold or a way out.
It is important for climbers to fine tune ourselves to realize our limits.
To test them, but to protect ourselves and then to move on.
Soon, thru careful probing and effort, our abilities will increase, to where someday, that problem will become fun to practice on.
There s a high
There is a high
A high that comes from being in the mountains.
Go to the mountains.
Experience nature's high.
When I write.
I put myself out there.
Expose my soul.
Hope that I inform.
Desiring to inspire.
But don't quote me on that.
ESCURE RANCH & TOWELL FALLS
We hiked the Washington scablands yesterday.
I was worried about snowy road delays.
As we got close to the ranch.
The snow was only an inch.
That dusting of snow.
Was all for show.
The massive black basalt mesas.
Had snow on top of their faces.
The contrast with the tall beige grasses.
Put a smile on our faces.
As we approached the island.
We were happy to see the falls again.
Even the upper falls was flowing.
Often this time of year, its dribbling.
After lunch on this bluebird day.
A nap was surely on its way.
I have photographed the ranch and falls in all seasons.
But with a dusting of white, for this reason.
Winter time in the scablands of eastern Washington.
Is a place you should not pass on.
Today, the 21st of December, the snows started falling.
Altho the depth is around 4 to 6 inches, the streets are so slick I can't get off the island.
The resorts and most skiers are hopeful that this winter will be a rebound from last year's disappointing ski season.
Kris Crocker is calling for 7 to 10" in the mountains. Yahooooo!
Marsha is coming to pick me up in the morning to go skiing.
She drives a "tank" and said getting up Mt. Spokane today to snowshoe was okay.
So we'll see how things go.
But for sure, it will be a good ski season if the snow keeps dropping.
What a day.
As the snow continued to fall,
it's champagne texture carpets all
the runs became a dream,
which causes one to scream.
Hee Ha's and yahoos,
are the words we use.
Down thru the trees we crank,
we don't want to leave it blank.
The sheer pleasure of floating
is heard in our shouting.
The ecstasy of skiing,
is in our being.
To ski, is to live.
The greatest gift you can give another, is the gift of nature.
Whether its in the mountains, paddling the lakes, wondering the high country, or walking the steppes, your gift will be something
that will be in your friends thots forever.
Share your knowledge, guide those who can't find their way.
It is our purpose, it is our way.
The dream of powder is, our desire.
The quest to float, is all there is.
It fills our days in the low lands.
It consumes our every waking hour.
The dream of floating, rules our lives.
It demands that we return.
We floated yesterday,
on a blanket of white.
Our skis barely touched the snow.
Our minds reeled with ecstasy.
Yet our thots are,
when do we get to ski again?
Once again, the soft powder was addictive.
Early in the morning, no one bothered with SOB,
in favour of other powder stashes.
For 6 runs, the snow was untouched.
Once again the float drew me back like a drug.
There are no words to explain the float.
One simply must experience the addiction.
Today the sun shined intensely on the water.
No new snow meant a paddle was in order.
Although it was sunny, the chill in the air was quit noticeable.
I had lunch on the rocks off the beacon. The lake was calm.
As I headed east along Tubbs Hill's southern face,
the dancing reflections of the sun off the water,
onto the rock faces, caused me to pause.
I slowed my pace to watch the dance.
Different shades of the rock caused slight changes
in the reflections intensity.
I soon became memorized, and just bobbed about.
Paddling brings me to a calm place.
One that I visit often.
The sun shined bright today on the mountain.
The snow pillowed all soft and brilliant from last nights snow fall.
As I rode the lift, the sun and snow offered a visual spectacle.
Billions and billions of diamonds sparkling so bright.
No matter where i looked, the snow glistened in a spectacular display.
This is just one of the pleasures of skiing.
Floating is to a skier,
what drugs are to an addict.
Or alcohol, to a drunk.
is a drug worth the addiction.
Today the soft sounds of a small creek below the chairlift,
drew me to listen as I passed overhead.
The gurgling and the splashing of the water over the rocks mesmerized me.
It was a sound one rarely hears during a mid winter ski day.
Such a pleasure it was, I wished the lift would stop so I could soak in the sounds and sights of these small brooks.
So soothing, yet so unexpected.
We as skiers, are accustomed to the sight of diamonds in the snow when its very cold.
They glisten by the billions, and cover the smooth snow as if their show is just for us.
What a pleasure to behold.
There is a moment in time.
Where one yahoos wildly.
Its when we link turns.
Down thru the powder.
Around ancient trees.
Over smooth deep pillows.
A feeling one experiences.
Only in deep powder.
Starts at South of the Boarder.
Ultimate pleasure comes from controlled falling.
Especially in deep powder.
The addiction is too strong to resist.
The feeling too strong to stop.
as exciting and arousing as it is,
can not compare to a day of powder skiing.
WHAT you ask?
Does your sex last all day?
The power of the excitement of cranking down thru powder,
is simply too addictive to stop.
Is one of those pleasures that can only be experienced.
I can not adequately convey the feeling of floating.
But you can always tell when one has floated.
The grin from ear to ear gives them away.
The pleasure is overwhelming.
The experience is too addictive to stop.
There is however,
a joy on the waves
that I've found to be
almost as spectacular
as pounding down
thru the powder.
I paddle out
away from the shore
and catch the waves
of big boats.
Kayak surfing is
what thrills me
on the water.
Like skiing, kayaking is composed of a lot of work to get there,
but such a thrill after you are on it's many forms of water.
One is a rush, while the other is so soothing.
Water amazes me in its many forms. It offers such a great variety of pleasure.
And it is absolutely essential to life.
chic 6.4. 2016
As I sit and write my thots.
the faint sent of a skunk
fills the air.
In ones face, the smell is
not as pleasant,
but as faint as it is,
it isn't that bad.
Skunks like wood ticks
are amazing critters.
You just don't want to be
too cozy with either.
I'm am so saddened by the neglect of our nation's industries and our government's ability to protect our lands, waters, air, creatures and people.
Greed, senseless misuse, damage to our environment and lack of action to protect it all is overwhelming.
The problem is, there is no solution that will work.
There is no common sense in any of this.
Maybe when the earth fails us, and we are broken, maybe something will be done.
I'm not counting on it tho.
There are few things in life that I understand about the ways of corporate America.
Why would anyone,
any corporation do such harm to our environment?
Its the hand that feeds it.
One day the environment will fail.
Will corporate America,
will political America be held accountable?
I think not.
We spend our lives toiling for our future
When all the while, there are people
and corporations that are doing their best
to destroy our lives.
Their greed and mistreatment of those
who make their lives possible,
simple don't care about us.
Only their paychecks, their way of life matter.
The rest of us are shit to them.
I pity them and their narrow views.
Have you ever walked a path past waterfalls, up thur a forest?
Experiencing the sounds of the forest in a babbling brook.
Birds signal ahead that we are coming.
All the creatures come out to see who is walking by their home.
And then the deep blue lake appears before you, with it's white corniced ridges contrasting against the bluest of blue sky's.
With a little effort, the serenity that surrounds you, will lift your spirit higher then the mountains above you.
When you stand on the summit, the Stevens Lakes below you look like portals to earth's soul.
To see such beauty, you have to put in the effort to get high in the mountains, and experience all it's facets.
Like walking in the rain, or running bare foot across a cornice, your very soul and spirit will be lifted.
Put down your phones. Reconnect with nature.
First it was the view of the far off snow capped summits.
Then the roar of the creek as it descends on it's journey.
As the forest passes by as I walk up the trail, its one beautiful green rush after another.
And once i summit the trail, and a deep blue lake lies before me.
I dream of the upper lake, and it's lush green tundra to the top of the ridge.
But once on the ridge with views of three lakes lying below me, I know I'm high in the mountains.
To stand on it's summit.
To feel it's breeze against my face.
Is to climb into more beauty than I can comprehend.
Some dislike spring skiing, but not me.
Of course I prefer deep powder,
but really any skiable snow will do.
As ski seasons come to a close,
we must make due with what were are dealt.
Yesterday, was one of those spring days.
The new snow was deep enough to push,
and in some places it pillowed in to 6+ inches.
Springs warm temps. smoothed the slopes nicely.
Down thru South of the Borders,
the runs are as good as it gets.
Heaven, the face of Wardner, Eureka,
Paymaster's Trees, even Collateral
we're great skiing.
So don't hesitate the next time the snow falls,
or the sun comes out, or the need arises.
As Spring approaches, thots of fluffy powder, seem so long ago.
The rush of crankin' down thru the trees, or trashing a virgin face,
simply can not be described or replaced.
But as warmer weather springs upon us, our techniques change.
We still crank down the trees, but with more care, style and grace.
So for those that think skiing is over, thank you for not crowding
In ones life, we are faced with many challenges.
Some physical, some emotional, some not understandable.
These challenges can cause emotional turmoil, as well as
leaving one wondering what just happened.
These challenges are heightened when another is involved.
They cause one to consider what one did to deserve such treatment.
Do you move on, or confront the challenge?
Do you allow a 25+ year friendship to end?
Or do you walk way?
Life's challenges can be devastating.
There is a sadness in my heart.
A long time friend is shunning me,
and I don't know why.
Do I confront her,
or do I let our friendship go.
The sad part is,
I can't resolve the situation.
The day dawned bright this morning.
I contemplated what to do.
I settled on skiing, mostly because
the end is near.
But this day the groomers are ice,
it's semi foggy with light snow.
But not enough to fill in the tracks.
As I sit in the Mountain House waiting,
nearby mountains fleet in and out of view.
If only this snow was deep!
Every once in a while,
patches of white
glisten off distant mountain sides.
First here, then way over there.
Some higher, with a few lower.
A mountain summit pops into view,
shining radiant white,
against the darker clouds.
The nearby trees are decked out
with an abundance of new pine cones.
Often dozens on each tree's top most branches.
New buds are forming on the exposed brush.
Maybe a bit to early, there fooled by Mom.
The winds have subsided enough to be out.
When the snow softens, I'll try skiing once again.
And I could have slept in, damn.
If only the clouds would go away.
So the slopes would soften from the Sun's rays.
My old knees just can't take the beating.
The winds are up again.
The trees are bare of the last snow's fall.
Yet the mountains of north Idaho,
hold an enormous amount of snow.
I would predict a great waterfall season
A funny thing happened at lunch the other day in the Mountain House at Silver Mountain.
Because it was a Sunday, Toni was with Marsha and I, enjoying one of my classic sandwiches. Fresh buns, avocado, tomato, Little Gems Romaine lettuce, extra sharp cheddar cheese, and savoury meats, made the day. Of course, Cheetos added the crunch to our lunch. I have learned over the years, that the Cheetos or chips cause addictive behavior with the girls. But what happened next surprised us all.
After we gorged, and enjoyed an apple to clean our teeth, we were getting ready to go back out, when Toni popped up laughing out loud at her self.
She held up her hands, palms towards us. All her fingers on both hands, up to the second knuckle were coated with thick Cheetos yellow-orange contamination.
We all had a good laugh, of course at Toni's expense.
The day dawned bright and cold for a mid April day.
As I drove over 4th of July Pass,
a dusting of snow on the trees brought promise.
I was the first on the gondola, and the first
to ski Paymaster Trees, Tall Paul, Sheer Bliss,
Gold's Trees, chair 4's Water Tanks, North of South of the Boarder,
Secret Trees, Heaven, the Right of Music, and more.
But it was the 2-4" of fresh powder that captured my attention.
Or was it just another great day at Silver Mountain?
It is sad when the ski season ends.
After months of schussing,
it all comes to an end, way too soon.
A friend says he is slipping into a
"deep depression", because its all ending.
But he's new to skiing, and hasn't lived it yet.
For me tho, I have lived it.
And I don't like it anymore than my friend.
There is a solution tho.
By moving into another outdoor sport
right away, and giving my all,
I will survive, I hope.
as nice as they are,
are simply fillers
between ski seasons.
As the storm approached, I realized it was a hail storm.
I rushed under a large tree to escape the deluge.
The noise was thunderous all around.
Loud pops occurred as the hail struck the tree's leaves.
What else I noticed was how the hail bounced when it hit the duff.
There is no rhyme or reason to their bounce. Just chaos.
But in my prospective, they seemed to all bounce away from me.
I dropped my pack and ran to another tree across the way.
To my astonishment, the hail bounced away from me again.
I returned to my original seat and just watched and listened
to nature all around me.
I stuck out my hand so I could catch some hail stones.
They tasted like nature in little frozen orbs.
When the hail stopped, I shouldered my pack and continued up.
The higher I got on the trail, the deeper the hail covered the ground.
At one point, it looked like winter had returned. All white and beautiful.
As we paddled the Pend Orielle River, it became obvious that this was a special day on the river. The sun shined bright, and the river reflected mirror images. Once around Ratt Island, Pewee Falls showed bright and loud. As we approached, the roar of falling water filled our senses. We paddled close and felt the fine mist blowing in our faces. But it was the falling waters pattern that captured our attention. Streams of falling water, pounded the river in vertical columns. It was hard to leave this beautiful site, but there's more to see.
Vertical walls jut out of the river on both sides. One has a cave we paddled into.
These massive vertical rock walls are bent from years of uplift. On one wall was a tree that grew upside down. Kind of like an evergreen waterfall. We paddled thru what was once a natural arch, and on to a spot for lunch.
We ate and enjoyed the day go by before continuing on our paddle. Great folded rocks rose out of the river, commanding our attention. Further up the river, the banks were lit in bright greens.
As we paddled thru this narrow canyon, we heard the sounds that drew us up stream. On both sides of the river, were waterfalls echoing loudly. We positioned ourselves on the river to experience stereophonic waterfalls. We lingered as long as possible, but knew we had to head back down stream. Seeing it all in reverse, made the paddle seem shorter on the return.
Stevens Lakes Trail Maintenance Hike
No matter how many times I've walked the Stevens Lake's trail, it amazes me each time.
The sounds of Willow Creek crashing down it's rugged path, fill the air with Mother Natures noise.
The constant roar of cascading water, smoothies the climb up its steep path.
The forests change in type and beauty the higher you climb.
At one point the small scree slabs clank under our feet, but shortly they give way to the all too familiar soft tread.
As we approach the headwall, the volume of mothers noise, rises until it's under foot.
When the trail turns sharply in the woods, there's the unforgettable sounds of falling water.
Here, you see several falls, some up higher, some falling before you.
Take a moment here, fore the trail steepens to the lake.
First you see the shimmer of silver thru the trees.
As your peripheral vision floods your senses, the lower lake sparkles with diamonds.
The cirque I am standing in, encompasses my whole self. All around me is beauty.
Small snow patches, left over from winter, hug the high gullies below the summit.
Spreading from the summit ridge both ways, a huge cornice hangs bright in the sun.
Sub-Alpine firs stand erect amongst the cliffs, along the lower ridges, and onto the cirque's majestic floor.
There dark green, stands out against the lush spring greens.
High above on West Willow Ridge, a prominence sticks into the deep blue sky.
Lining the ridge, left and right, are old white snags looking like whiskers on an old man's chin.
Rock faces jut out of the lush green, adding to its starkness.
Then a sparkle from the lake where a fish breached the surface, draws my attention.
The circles expand in five or six concentric rings or waves. Their edges sparkle in reflection.
Below Stevens Peak, behind a shallow u shape bowl of Sub-Alpine firs stretching from side to side sits Upper Stevens Lake.
It seems to yell at me to "come up to see me."
The "trail" around the lake has many grand viewpoints, as does the "trail" above.
The upper lake shins even brighter below it's peak.
The rock faces reflect in it's still waters like monoliths in the sun.
Find a comfortable spot, sit down and watch the best show on earth
(This day was one of Lynn Smith's trail maintenance trips.)
The roar of the falls off in its own cove,
draws one to it like a cold winter nights, stove.
The closer you get to the spray,
the longer you want to stay.
Up around the west shore,
lies so, so much more.
From caves below the tall rock faces,
to rock bent from heat and pressure in many places.
The Pend Orielle cuts a deep gorge,
from Boundary Dam to the Box Canyon Gorge.
There are islands and beaches to picnic on,
cascades and views that go on and on.
At about four miles up the winding river,
a set of falls, each on its own side of the river.
It is a place to stop and meditate,
while floating, it is so great.
You position yourself between the falls,
to hear stereophonically nature's calls.
A moment spent afloat in this special place,
puts a calm to your heart and a smile on your face.
Pewee Falls and the Pend Orielle River,
is one magnificent places to float on it's river.
Today I climbed the NW arete of Canfield Mountain south of Hayden Lake
The route is steep, but very doable.
About 30 minutes up the trail is a flat spot with a fire ring.
The views NNE displays the lake nicely with North & South Chilco Peaks in the distant background.
Four minutes further up the trail is another flat spot next to the trail.
I stopped there to have a bite to eat.
As I sat looking out at scenic Hayden Lake, I caught sight of a large bird circling the gully in front of me.
I made squeaking sounds, and attracted it's attention. It circled riding the wind currents.
At one point, it came within 30 feet of me.
I took out my PNS and tried to capture it in flight.
It was a very large Turkey Vulture.
Because the winds over the ridge were turbulent, it had to do in flight corrections, and
ascended high above me to view the gully.
As it swung around, I took note of the light pattern on its out stretched wings.
From its high ascent point, it rapidly flew over the ridge opposite me.
Then thru the trees, it glided graciously right towards me, and veered off as it got close.
I watched it for about 5 minutes, until it descended down towards the houses on Upper Hayden Lake Road.
Presumably, looking for a meal.
As fast as it appeared, it was gone.
It's always nice to see critters on a hike.
This one glided so gracefully, it captured my undivided attention.
When I got home, I verified that it was in fact a Turkey Vulture.
As I walked the main trail back to the car,
the winds rustling in the trees,
sounded like a waterfall a ways away.
I paused and listened carefully.
The sounds were all around me,
high in the tree tops.
The sounds of a dropping stream,
on it's path down it's mountain's face,
makes me pause and enjoy it's song.
Rustling winds gently flow thru the trees,
produced a different sense of stimulation.
One that stays in my mind and soothes my soul.
But its my foot steps that I hear,
as I walk down the path,
that centers me on my journey.
After months of heat, we walked in the rain to a mountain top.
Our boots were full of water from the brush we walked thru.
But all of our faces were grins from ear to ear.
By the time we reached our cars, no one was dry.
And no one had a frown.
Its amazing how a storm, after weeks of heat, can affect a person.
Yesterday in the mountain, the smoke came and went.
As we sat atop the Mollies in north Idaho, the views of
Priest Lake miles to the south were less than perfect.
But on our perch the views were great non the less.
As we ate, Brad noticed a new plume of smoke to the west.
Holly called it in just in case.
Fire personnel called back for more info.
They figured that it was a flair up from the
Hughes Fork fire.
To the east, the American Selkirks sprawled for miles to the east.
Way off in the distance, Chimney Rock sticks
up like a boner.
As we left the summit, we had only one thing on our minds.
Huckleberries galore along the trail.
Smith Peak 9.15.2017
I opted out of the summit push. We set up camp on a rocky knoll in the dark.
I slept, if you can call it that, on a foam pad and Thermorest.
The ground was very bumpy and uneven. If I'd slept 3 hours, I'd be surprised.
So I did as my body said and stayed behind, waiting for a yell from Chris. If he yells three time "Yes Yes Yes", I will move to the upper camp site about 300 vertical feet and about 1/4 a mile. If the didn't hear Chris, I will start transporting loads back up the trail in.
There were some tenting options there.
With just 3 months to 72, I've come to the conclusion that I need to step away from certain outdoor activities.
Altho my back is okay, the potential is too great to ignore its warning pains.
Carrying more than a daypack (except Leigh Lake) is a thing of the past.
Yesterday's pack weighted between 40 & 45 pounds, including 7 26 oz water bottles.
The fact that I know I'll use 2 bottles on Sunday getting out, means that 7 bottles was just enough.
We had Mountain House freeze dried Chicken noodle casserole last night.
Saturday we will have M.H. Rice & chicken and a Pepsi.
I brought my stuff up to camp 2.
We had seen this camp site a few years earlier when we scouted the route to Smith Peak.
I went back down and brought up Chris's tent and sleeping bag, then made one more trip to bring up his pack.
While Chris headed towards Smith Peak, I set up the tent and made camp.
Chris spent 9 hours round trip to Smith.
The ridge between Cut Off Peak and Smith is absolutely spectacular. During Chris's hike, I took my Kiniksu N. F. map to a high spot and identified all the peaks we have summited over the last 36 years.
The next day we confirmed our summits.
After Chris returned, we had dinner and crashed.
Sunday's hike out was okay only because we had drunk or used all but two bottles of water each.
Even tho I didn't get to summit Smith Peak, I feel the backpack was a success.
Tisn't just the mountains and all they hold, it's sitting back against a rock, listening and feeling the gentle breeze blow by.
The occasional bird chirps, but they have pointed their beaks south.
The air isn't blistering hot any more. The nip, just enough to make me wear my fleece is so comfortable.
It's really about friendships.
For in life, the only real things we own are our friendships, health, and our integrity.
The small depression along the high ridge to Smith Peak is a perfect camp spot. It sits in a basin about 200' round.
The lower side is covered in a thick moss that is damp to the touch.
It is a perfect camp spot, and location to view the American Selkirks all around us.