Spring moved forward slowly but surely this year: building anticipation for the heart of the season with short trips to the trails here, a shuttle day there; new gear purchases; event dates memorialized on the Calendar.
Until: Bam! We smack into the face of summer, already upon us, focus on the scene exposed by the once-elusive sun and realize, shit, the season’s off and rolling like freight train! Grab your bags, let’s go!
And we head for the hills, for the northern border, for the meccas awash in beauty and sunshine.
I looked at the Calendar tonight with its lines slashed through weekends—and some weeks—lacing the days together for trips from July through October. … And sat back, silently. Deep breath. Exhale. Smile. “Yep, it’s gunna be a fast one.”
But—it’s going to be a good one. And the memories?—They’ll be lasting ones. To all the friends, local and far, who will make the season what it’ll be, thanks. And to the trees and the dirt and the vast blue skies, I see you.