Mountain's Morning

As you may know, Dale's an outdoorsy hiking type. I like hiking,
too, when the conditions are just right - few bugs and cool weather.
In other words, rarely. When Dale suggested that we camp out on our
beloved West Mountain so we could catch the sunrise, I was excited -
I'd been wanting to do just that! But that was over a month ago, and
idealism is strong when a concept is conceived.

So when we realized we both had Labor Day to ourselves, we decided to
hike up Sunday night. I was eager at first but as the time drew
near, I realized I had a lot of qualms about it. What if someone was
partying up there? What if I couldn't carry everything I needed?
What if the mosquitoes were too thick? What if it got too hot/cold?
But Dale's eyes were brimming with excitement, albeit weary, as if he
sensed I wasn't quite as excited anymore. So I packed and took every
measure possible to avoid getting eaten by mosquitoes. Then I threw
my camera bag over my shoulder and off we went. I wasn't about to
disappoint Dale, and he wasn't about to go without me, either. I
know him. He comes up with awesome photographic ideas anyway, and
this was one I knew would be good. And, if I didn't go, he /would/
go up without me, and I'd walk home, heavily disappointed in myself
and feeling mildly abandoned. No, I /would/ go up there, bugs or no.

So, about a quarter way to the path up the mountain, Dale told me I
was doing great and we were already half way there. I laughed, my
legs already burning from the slight incline on the road!! But I was
still determined. Lack of air may have tempted me to turn back at
that point. The thought of the bugs was /still/ tempting me. But
burning legs? No. Still, on the last stretch of road where it was
even steeper, I started having second thoughts again. I began
voicing my prediction on how many skeeters would be up there, as they
were already buzzing around me now - even though, thus far, my
makeshift skeeter-proof clothing seemed to be an impenetrable - if
hot - fortress. Queries Dale: "Do you want me to run ahead so the
tent can be set up and you can get inside away from the mosquitoes?
No need for you to rush, you can slow down, you know." Bless him,
but... "No," I told him, explaining, "I need to keep going and push
myself before I change my mind and turn back." "Okay," he says. One
of the attributes I hold most dear is his ability to understand my
mood and somehow - knowingly or not - act accordingly without my
asking. He fell silent and plodded on with me as if letting me
concentrate. Perhaps he simply had nothing more to say but it
happens so frequently...

I pondered on this somewhat, which took my mind off "the burn" and
the fact I was indeed beginning to get winded. Suddenly, though, I
realized how tired I was. Dale asked if I wanted to rest. "No, I
want to make it to the first third," I told him. "You mean the first
junction?" he asked. "Yeah-- oh!" I exclaimed, realizing we'd just
reached it! The first third (as I call it) was easier than I'd
expected!! My energy returned, and I finally established myself on
the trail after a brief rest. It was growing dim. We made it
through the second "third," too. I was sure of myself more than
ever. And, finally, we were at the top, lickety-split. I was tired
again, but accomplished. But stopping made me painfully aware of the
swarms all around us. "neeeeeeeeeeeeee!" says the skeeters. "Bugger
off!" says me. Dale quickly set up our tent. I helped in between
swats and was surprised that even though they were all over me, they
weren't biting! Dale was covered in them, though. I tried to work
faster and ignore the whining of the little monsters.

Finally, we were inside the tent. We killed two or three uninvited
skeeters and a few tiny flies of some sort, then unpacked our bedding
and played cards by the light of our headlamps. Then we read for a
bit. I was a bit jumpy, and kept worrying that we'd be killed in our
sleep or something every time some random noise could be heard. The
sound of 4-wheelers scared me for a couple hours, but no one ever
came to our little sanctuary despite my imagination. Dale fell
asleep as I silently talked to myself in my head. "Yeah, things can
happen to people like us in places like this. But honestly. The
number of people that are NOT bothered in such places far exceeds
those that are attacked. Those people out there are simply
partying. They won't even come out this far." Eventually I started
boring myself with intentionally vague thoughts about colours and the
book I'd been reading. Finally, I fell asleep.

The sound of a struggling vehicle woke me up again. I listened
intently as my heart thundered in my ears, Dale snored, and the
leaves rustled in the breeze, trying to determine the location of the
vehicle. Then it stopped, and I heard a few doors shut. Laughing
punctuated the breeze, stopping my heart with each syllable. It
seemed to be coming closer but I wasn't sure. I couldn't see
anything - no flashlights, flames, or headlights. Nonetheless, I
woke up Dale in case they got even closer and could then hear us.
"Pssssst, Dale," I said, shaking him gently. No response. "Dale!"
I whispered fiercely. "Wake up!" "Eh?" he says, and to my chagrin,
begins rustling his covers so loudly I could scarcely breathe; I knew
it was crazy, but I thought we'd be dead within minutes, having
alerted the owner of the laughter to our presence and thus attracting
some fatal group of murderers to our location, all because /he had to
have a rustly sleeping bag... gahhhhh!/ Finally, he quieted and
listened with me. Shortly after the next laugh, which was about the
same distance as before, I heard his breathing get heavy again.
"Damn!" I thought inwardly, not wanting to wake him for fear he'd go
through the rustling again. I began coming up with scenarios as I
heard the laughing come and go on the breeze. The peeps come up and
start a fire just a few yards from us, and never see us at all.
Cool, I like that one, even though it means I'll still be scared
until they leave. Or! What if they're partying over there, and the
dude comes over to pee in the woods and bumps right into our tent,
collapsing on top of us? Even if they were all friendly, that would
still be quite a shock. Or what if they kicked us out of our tent
because they wanted to get away from the skeeters, and /we/ were left
stumbling down the mountain in the dark trying to escape? What if
they were drunk and dragged our tent - with us still in it - off the
edge of the cliff just for fun? What if they felt like beating on
someone? What if I got raped and Dale was beaten to death? What if
they slit our throats?! OMG I watch way too much CSI!! I thought as
my heart grew louder and louder. For a moment I thought I was going
to have a heart attack, and tried vainly to stop thinking. But what
if --

Oh my God, I thought with another jump out of my skin. The car just
started. Wait! The car just started!! They're leaving. They're
leaving!! "I guess they weren't that close after all," I whispered
over the roar of my blood, and Dale responded with another snore. My
heart continued heaving adrenaline through my capillaries. I
snickered at myself and wondered what time it was, how much longer
I'd have to keep watch (for I surely couldn't sleep now) before
daylight - and perceived safety - were to blanket us with relief.

It came faster than I'd expected. Somehow, as I lay there pondering,
I fell asleep and did not wake again until shortly before daybreak.
When I did wake up again, we were most definitely alone. It felt
peaceful. I listened to the crickets trilling their mating songs. I
listened to the trees rustling overhead and jumped only slightly at
the little thunks of debris falling upon our overnight home. The
occasional vehicle could be heard in the distance. We were safe. A
brief flutter of a thought was that perhaps we were NOT alone.
Perhaps we had company that was merely asleep, and I'd somehow slept
through their arrival. But no, I thought, not even trying to
reassure myself. There isn't anyone. We're alone. I can feel it.
I don't need to convince myself, now. I know it. I smiled in the
dim glow of dawn. We made it. /I/ made it!

Just then, as if to finish waking me up from a nightmare, Dale's
morning alarm went off. He woke up and I handed it to him so he
could ensure I'd shut it off properly. We ventured outside to
relieve ourselves and I got bit on the thigh by a mosquito in the
process. (Damn them!! They're such irritating little
opportunists!!) Donning my superhero skeeter-proof gear again, I
sauntered out with my camera toward the ledge and felt a small sound
of awe escape my throat. Dale joined me and we began to photograph
the awesome sight painted before us, glowing ever brighter with every
passing second.

Dale found another good spot where a heavy, cottonlike blanket of fog
could be seen comforting a farm off in the distance. The skeeters
were everywhere, but we were intent on getting our well-deserved
shots. Dale was a trooper. Even though I'd had my blood ransacked a
few got bit a couple times by then, I knew he was a far better target
in his less protective attire.

The sun peeked over the tops of the mountains and we took more shots
at our original location. Then, as it came up, we went down. On our
way we saw a frog, an eft, and finally, a chipmunk, who was very
patient with me as I flashed him a few times with my camera. Then,
before I knew it, we were at the bottom. It wasn't even 8am on this
beautifully clear, cool, and SAFE, Labor Day holiday.

Following this post are some of the shots from this fine morning.