The view from the rocks

Two hours of climbing, angles steep along a narrow line of rock, with lichens and dead grass, but at last I made it to the top. The view of the bay on a Sunday afternoon breaks the tension of thinking about the next day, returning to the cycles of work. For a brief moment my mind is free from the grip of obligations, of demands, of human time.

For now, I reveled in the stark beauty of the mountain, a single speck against the white cover, or hidden among the cliffs and sheep trail, which wound upwards to a pass high above the bay. The ground had thawed; the snow cover was still thin of hardness, but I wanted to see the greater scenes that only the heights can bring. Going up was easy. Coming down was a different thing.

At the top I found a bare rock to sit upon, like a island among the white, pulled out my water and drank to my thirst. The taste was sweet. My eyes roved over the bay and mountains and through out the sky from near to far, wandering as far as they could see. The chill in the air cooled my sweat while I sat in wonder. The cold brightness combined with the wind, yet I stayed a bit longer to feel the afternoon, a be a part of something bigger. Then it was time to go.

A steep snow slope curved downwards to the lower cliffs; in some places ( along the sides or where the sun warmed the slope at 45 degrees) hard enough to walk upon. The long stretch of snow would save me wear and tear. The lichens and dead grasses were slippery, while the loose rock meant spills or needless struggle. I needed a plan. In order not to sink in the less crusted areas, where the hill sloped away from the south-side sun, I elected to slide down using my heels as brakes. In the flatter areas, I could walk in the shallower snow, avoiding the slippery rocks and plants. I saw a place where someone else decided to the snow, but had stopped because they had lacked a plan.

Hundreds of yards of white slope waited my slide. I punched through a few areas to get to a open area, lowered myself onto the snow, and slid down....among the shrubbery and clustered islands of trees, picking up speed as I slid. Small pieces of ice rolled down ahead of me, tumbling

over edges. Soon I was among the trees below, having to slow down and weave a pathway between them. Sometimes it is better to take a risk of lesser degree than the normal approach, guaranteed to inflict some bruises by the nature of the terrain. Besides, I had saved myself a lot of time to enjoy the rest of the day.