The slope up the Avalanche chute is almost three football fields in length. Small plants now open along this open stretch as well as dried white grasses laid flat by the heavy snow pack. Going up in a straight line is tedious and slippery. I zigzag instead, trying to get a bite on the flat surface. Every step reveals how worn my hiking boots are. A few furrows and small rocks offer some security but the steepness is unrelenting to walk on. Where the alder lines end, a open area of outcrops, filled with humps of grasses and rock surface are promising to quickening the pace further up the slope. A few areas in the wall of alders is interrupted by sheep trails. Higher up I find a few that are a welcome addition to my hike. These trails will help me cut through the thick alder patches to a ravine a quarter of a mile away. Here I will descend on the snow that still occupies the avalanche chute. The view of the valley and bay and distant ranges gives me a bird's eye look at what the land is like. Down on the trail, the scenery is too crowded, too trapped in perspective. The dogs now look for a snow patch to cool off on. I wait and rest, feeling the fullness of being alive.