What an amazing, magnificent day!
One of the best I’ve had in a long time. For two reasons.
First: I drove up to Mount Becher, parked at the lower lot and headed up the Boston Ridge Trail. And I took a wrong turn and finally realized it and backtracked and – finally (!) hit the right one. And there I was, mostly in a cloud with not much to see. But it was just me – and the forest was magnificent in the fog and mist and one magic moment: a warbling as though hundreds of birds were singing. And the sound coming closer. And I can’t see but I keep looking up and finally:
Out of the mist, almost obscured – an enormous double V of geese materializing out of the mist and disappearing back into it above my head. So close. And not honking! Warbling!
Blessed to witness this.
And so up – and up. Lots of steep. Scrambling. Four rope assists. And on top of the ridge, I’m thinking. Great! I did that. And still in a deep mist and suddenly, the trail goes down. Steeply. I am scrambling down into an abyss of white. And down and down. I could be falling off a cliff. I have no idea. And down and down. And finally – guess what? Yup – up again. And this is where all the ropes come in. All those many metres I lost? Making them up again and then some.
And then, finally, on the plateau leading to the summit and the sun begins to burn off the mist and cloud and it’s beautiful and so fabulous. Over four hours after setting out, I’m at the top. A quick lunch and down the fast way – the straight-up route.
And my wonderful, bliss-filled day got better when I got home, showered and talked to Mike – for a very long time.
My heart is filled with love.