We recently returned from a journey to the land of the snows. We climbed Hurricane Hill, starting in autumn and climbing up into winter. It was something of an adventure.
The short, wet summer kept the hillside vegetation green late into September, but now it had all turned to gold. Here and there we could see the fall colors with browns and golds and here and there brilliant red. Above us loomed the bulk of Hurricane Hill, its summit dusted white above us.
We walked through autumn, but as we ascended, panting and wheezing as is our wont, the season changed on us. First there was first snow by the trailside, then on the trail itself. The golden grasses were covered with a lacework of light snow. It grew colder.
As we neared the summit we were in winter, surrounded by snow, with snow dusting the gnarled trees. At the peak, it was winter. We were in another land, the land of the snows. |
The looming snowcap of Hurricane Hill |
A hawk of winter |
Fall colors below |
White lace on the golden fields |
Entering winter's frigid domain |
More lacework |
Towards the summit |
The view from the top, in the land of the snows |
More winter in the high country |
The side spur |
Mount Angeles and a deer family |