Unseen Trails

The River winds through the steep valley, cutting out soft sides of hill whose oxide tints are layered with rocks put down by ancient waters; a small cut that reveals what lies beneath the garment of vegetation. Along this section of valley, a trail winds between the the alder and light green fields of late summer plants. Further down the hill, the trail connects to a bridge where a gorge of deeply cut rock fashions a chute. Through this gorge, the waters crash downwards to the wide valley below. High above the sounds of water, I stand along an edge of fireweed, watching while I take a moment's rest. But on this south slope my eyes are not the only witness to this scene. Here, the burrows of marmots are exposed to the south side light. They sound a high pitch alarm as I cross the slope. But other things are on my mind. My feet slip on the plants and in places where the crumbling rock from above settles into Scree. Still, I'd rather be here in the stillness of the afternoon, high above the thick foilage along the trail. The trail I take is less disturbed and traveled, unlikely to be walked again in the same way. The experience of this place is a trail of wonder that wanders through my mind.