Steam Roller Pass. What an interesting name. By the end of the day I knew it's meaning well. Climbing up from Clear Creek Valley, 1200' below, required walking up broken piles of rock and loose scree below Clear Glacier. Then, up through the scooped-out gulleys, until the final steep climb, where more shifting pieces of sharp rock waited. The dog knew better than I about how sharp the surface could be, but still I had to know what lay beyond. On maps, Steam Roller Pass was masked by lines of contour, so exacting and flat. In reality, it was anything but that. So, I chose my own way up, not following other people's steps; after all, there is always another way, perhaps better, less draining to walk. One look at that last long hill of broken stone gave me an idea: an easier route on a solid slant, filled by plants, became a pathway upwards . Toward the top of the slope, a flat bench of talus allowed footing across to the Pass. However, sometimes it is easier to go up a mountain than returning by the same way. But, for now I just wanted to see the land beyond. And I wasn't disappointed at what I saw: before me lay the vastness of space, of mountain ranges in long rows, and valleys further below. I stood on a long ledge that stretched for hundreds of yards above a old glacier, mostly melted now, and covered with dirt debris. This dark material spilled out and downwards, filling up into huge mounds. On a flat bench, at a lower level, were half-dozen small lakes, nestled in a matted field of lichens. I noticed too, that the tops of the hills on the western side of the valley were tilted strata of soft, sedimentary rock. But unlike the arid and bare glacial area above, the sides of the lower valley were yellow-greens and tan colors, sprinkled in places with pinks. The contrast was very striking: zones of life and dark fields of rock. I gazed for a long while, losing track of time in a timeless moment, but Afternoon soon brought clouds, which flitted across the valley, breaking up into gentle shapes. And the far ranges, towards the inlet from the sea, now blurred into a soft, blue haze, while a cold wind touched the edges of the Pass. I wrapped the windbreaker tighter about myself. Soon, the rain would be here, and going down is always harder than getting up.
Steam Roller Pass. What an interesting name. By the end of the day I knew it's meaning well. Climbing up from Clear Creek Valley, 1200' below, required walking up broken piles of rock and loose scree below Clear Glacier. Then, up through the scooped-out gulleys, until the final steep climb, where more shifting pieces of sharp rock waited. The dog knew better than I about how sharp the surface could be, but still I had to know what lay beyond. On maps, Steam Roller Pass was masked by lines of contour, so exacting and flat. In reality, it was anything but that. So, I chose my own way up, not following other people's steps; after all, there is always another way, perhaps better, less draining to walk. One look at that last long hill of broken stone gave me an idea: an easier route on a solid slant, filled by plants, became a pathway upwards . Toward the top of the slope, a flat bench of talus allowed footing across to the Pass. However, sometimes it is easier to go up a mountain than returning by the same way. But, for now I just wanted to see the land beyond. And I wasn't disappointed at what I saw: before me lay the vastness of space, of mountain ranges in long rows, and valleys further below. I stood on a long ledge that stretched for hundreds of yards above a old glacier, mostly melted now, and covered with dirt debris. This dark material spilled out and downwards, filling up into huge mounds. On a flat bench, at a lower level, were half-dozen small lakes, nestled in a matted field of lichens. I noticed too, that the tops of the hills on the western side of the valley were tilted strata of soft, sedimentary rock. But unlike the arid and bare glacial area above, the sides of the lower valley were yellow-greens and tan colors, sprinkled in places with pinks. The contrast was very striking: zones of life and dark fields of rock. I gazed for a long while, losing track of time in a timeless moment, but Afternoon soon brought clouds, which flitted across the valley, breaking up into gentle shapes. And the far ranges, towards the inlet from the sea, now blurred into a soft, blue haze, while a cold wind touched the edges of the Pass. I wrapped the windbreaker tighter about myself. Soon, the rain would be here, and going down is always harder than getting up.
No comments:
Post a Comment