The trail has been long and hard - mile upon mile of relentless climbing have made the distance stretch until the waning hours of the afternoon. An evening at the end of such an exhausting day is spent as much collapsed in a comatose heap as it is ogling the spectacular scenery around you. Only once you have had time lying dead to the world in a sleeping bag as the stars wheel overhead can you recover and actually appreciate the wonders you have worked so hard to experience. That is part of what makes dawn the next day such an incredible experience.
Lake of the Angels is a shangri-la - a hidden pocket of true tranquility and unearthly beauty seemingly designed with aesthetic perfection in mind. Glaciers did not so much gouge and scrape this alpine valley as pick at it with artists chisels - shaping high spires, smoothing boulders, and cutting fine lines that lead the eye from point to point like a fine renaissance painting.
(note: this was the first timelapse video I ever created, as well as the first Youtube video I ever published!)
Sleeps comes early in the mountains, and as a result it requires a great force of will not to rise at the first rays of of the sun that pierce the starbright realms of the inky depths that soar infinitely overhead. Best not to fight the quickening of those early hours, as that is the finest time of all in the mountains.
On this particular trip,the dawn came like a curtain of flame dripping down the crags and remnants of those ancient glacial stonemasons. It lit the snow and ice with a crimson fire whose reflected glory painted the yet shadowed meadows with a warmth that belied the crisp chill of the early morning air. Down crept the flames of the new sun, striking every tree and flower in turn and giving each its brief turn in that radiant spotlight.
From red, to orange, to gold - as the light spread the color changed, finally sliding down to spark the water with a billion sunbursts that flared like diamonds on the first sussurating breeze of the day. The wind brought with it the bird song and the heady smells of pine, old ice, and fresh flowers.
With the gaudy show of dawn accomplished, the creatures of the valley got down to business. The warming of the air brought the mountain goats out of hiding with a clattering of distant rocks and the bleating of those happy families of shaggy cliff dwelling ruminants. They possessed little fear of people and wandered unconcerned through our camp and in little herds about the lake.The few hours of sitting and looking at the world as it wakes until hunger demands swift action are the finest of any hours. They are fleeting, brief in the greater scheme as the twitch of a goat's nose, but if all other details of life are forgotten, it is our mornings spent in the high kingdoms of the world that will remain etched into our memories.
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Written in 1 hour for the #NatureWritingChallenge
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