So you scurry out the door, intent on breathing in as much as is left of the short season.
Last night, it was a hike up Flattop late in the evening, so that we climbed up to the sunset and climbed down to the moonlight.
MM was catching a nasty cold and I had run a very hard and hilly 11-miler the day before, so we took it slow. We stopped at lot, looked around. We marveled.
There was a wonderful energy in the air. almost as if it were whispering to us: Hurry, hurry, soon it will all be gone.
And I wanted more than anything to keep on hiking, up past Peak 2 and over to Peak 3. I wanted to climb up high enough so that I could reach the moon, which was fat and hanging low in the sky.
But first, the sunset, which spread out across the sky in pinks and blues and lavenders. Sometimes I think that the color of the evening sky is what keep me grounded in Alaska, year after year after year.
|MM in the sunset, at the top of the peak|
It was cold on top of Flattop, so cold that I wore two long-sleeve tech shirts, a feece, windbreaker and mittens, and after sitting at the base of the other side for 15 minutes, facing Peak 2 and the beautiful moon, my teeth where chattering so much that I was afraid I might trip on the way down. But it was worth it. Seeing the moon rise above the mountains was worth any amount of chill.
|These moon pics are disappointing. For the moon was big and fat! It hung in the sky like something ripe! Try and image it, okay?|
On the way down we met up with a paraglider, his gear spread out before him. He was waiting for the wind to die down, he told us. We wished him luck and a few minutes later, looked up to see him floating across the sky. It was surreal and timeless. I wanted to know what it felt like to fly like that.
I'm off for a run in the partial sunshine. Hope everyone is out soaking up the last of summer.