But many years had passed since that day, and it was months too early for huckleberries. Plus, there was another vehicle at the trailhead, indicating that another party was ahead of us. Surely they would have scared off all the bears. We headed out, exclaiming at all the beautiful wildflowers lining the path.
Some movement on the trail ahead startled me. A bear? No, it was a trail runner, the apparent owner of the car below. He bounded happily past us, carrying nothing, not even bear spray. I admired his initiative, although I wouldn't have chosen that trail to run solo.
Summer abruptly gave way to winter as we reached a saddle. Three feet of snow covered the trail. We could see the lookout a mile and a half away, but steep, sketchy snowfields blocked the way. One set of footsteps, their owner equipped with crampons, headed out there. We debated. Try it or not? We probably wouldn't die. We could probably make it.
|See the lookout?|
I have a little bit of a destination focus. I always want to get to "the thing" at the end of the trail, whether it's a summit, lake, or fire lookout. But today, even though I would have liked to reach the lookout, this ridge cloaked in snow with its views of Canadian peaks and far away lakes was a good place to stop. It was the perfect destination.
|Headed back down the trail|