Oh, the excitement when you round a snowy switchback and spy another span of pristine snow-bound trail leading up the mountain side!

The lower trailhead started out light and dry, but after a few miles of trudging over muddy ruts and rocky ascent, the halfway question of direction seemed moot: turn around and trek back down through snow, climb farther ahead and see where deeper snow leads, or stay put and freeze once the sun disappears with the ever approaching twilight. Not part of the plan.

I surveyed the short route but that looked like a dead end…scramble straight downhill from 8,500+ elevation and just jostle past the lofty pine trees to the dark icy stream a thousand feet below. Surely someone would find my bones after snowmelt?? I guess the shortest path to a hearty pint isn’t a straight line after all!

God only knows why I’m even out here. I listen for spirits to speak, though I’m not sure I’d like to hear the critique. I’m certainly not worthy. Even so, I know that’s the only way I’ll get out of this life, alive. Somewhere between 8,500 and 9,300, twilight and moonlight, questions and professions faded into quiet determination. Climbing mountain paths to peace where answers only reside inside…the view from the summit was fantastic.

When I gaze into your radiant eyes I see all the joy of heaven. I will summit the peak, endure the season, stride the extra mile, and wind my way back by moonlight to some known place, so I may stand in the presence of your sweet smile once again. I will live to love another day.