South Side of the Mountain

Human Trails become worn memories of foot steps that widen through the forest like highways. I use them only to escape once I'm further in; then I find a departure point; a new kind of trail that brings me to the cliffs above. Usually, on along the shelves of rock are narrow pathways of lichens, shrubs, and rosebush. The trails here are those made by by bear, moose, and sheep. Since these animals don't expect me here, I carefully step about, studying the hidden as well as the obvious lines of travel. The way above only steepens, so I look for a better hold. But the sheep know the best ways: narrow trails through the brush, slippery rock shelves, and draws leading to shelves higher up. Broad trails also run horizontally across the contours of the mountain side. Here and there, open grassy slopes give the eyes relief, as well as a sense of protective warning. On these south side slopes of the mountain the sun warms the earth, and the vegetable kingdom bursts forth in many shades and tints of green. Higher up, the alders ring the steep sides; here begin the maze of trails through the alder. And here are beds where a bear might be lying beneath the brush. My pace slackens; just too much cover to fight. Bushwhacking in thick alder is great exercise, but I want another experience today; when I gaze out over the vast space, from the arm of sea below to the top of the sky, from many mountain tops and down the processions of long valleys, I know a feeling of peace, as in a dream. Near the top of the mountain, peering out over the horizon line, the small cares of human existence fades.