The movement itself is enchantment. It wraps me in a trance that transports me through a place out of time without dimension or duration. The kinaesthetic is totally absorbing. Its properties relegate everything else—people, places, things—to another level, a banal reality where nothing is new, nothing stimulates and nothing pushes the envelope.

The big aspen clones on the other side of Kebler Pass are in full color. Square miles of trees are changing; different clones can be identified by their different colors. Science tells us the largest living organism in the world--a single aspen clone--is providing us with autumn entertainment. And you should have seen all the photographers standing behind their tripods.

I miss hiking without purpose. It used to be I enjoyed the freedom of the hills without thought to purpose. I would hike with intent, but with no special place to go or destination in mind. The whole point was to hike, no reason or justification; walking through the affordance of it all was purpose enough.

Thin-air hallucinations sparkled in my peripheral vision. The ringing in my ears I put down to trolls murmuring their seductive but sometimes treacherous counsel. Wind cracked through the sky in shears, utter joy to ravens, and carried the sound of water tumbling in the valley below. Other times, only silence.

Someone must have had a reason for naming Treasure Mountain as they did. From what I can tell, surrounding mountains and Treasury Mountain next door actually hold the goods. Treasure Mountain is geologically responsible for the booty, though, and maybe some old-timer figured that out and named it appropriately.

It’s a challenge to walk through the mountains and not think about geology. Those who know nothing of mountains walk and wonder. I’ve heard them speculating about what this is or how that got there. I almost never go hiking that someone doesn’t ask me something about rocks.

April 9-With a crashing roar, the ski lifts closed for the season. Folks walking down Elk Ave. might not have heard the cacophony, but it resonated to me, and for a few days threatened to send me into darkest despair. In retrospect and introspect, I have three words: Get a life.
To hell with that. I have a life, and at least for the cold months, my life and lifestyle involve skis and skiing. My transition to warm month activities is sometimes shaky. Most of the time I face it cold-turkey, but occasionally make attempts to taper off my gravity fix by spring skiing in the backcountry.