Palaces of the Gods
It’s a strange feeling peering down from the crest of a cliff that had seemed impossible to summit a few moments before. Strange because one remembers beginning on a city street, just strolling by houses until finally reaching some woods. Immediately, from the first step into the first spruce tree’s shadow, one is fully, completely immersed in a world that blots out any thoughts of the civilization resting three paces back. Hours of climbing, brushing, weaving, ducking, kicking through what should have been a trail and suddenly, it’s there: the roof of a rounded ridge. All things hush except for a barely audible warm breeze. The eagles one watches thousands of feet below for months are now merely yards away. They pay no heed. Why should they? They’re the ones who are home. As one’s head weaves back and forth across the tranquil alpine meadow, one finally understands why the Greeks saw mountain tops as the palaces of the gods.
Compelled further, one decides to go down the other side of the mountain. Down to the pristine glacier. The descent takes several hours longer than the climb, meandering through miles of rainforest and dangerously near cliffs, even back up some gorges after encountering two hundred foot drops, as one realizes that animal paths and streams aren’t always reliable. Eventually, there’s cars, streets, and people again. Complete it with a bus ride home, smiling to oneself as some ride home from work, others from the store. You came from the top of a mountain.
This is a day hike. Between work and education, it’s rare to find enough time to make lengthy three to five day journeys that require crossing miles of ice fields before even reaching the base of the mountain. A day hike, on the other hand, requires much less gear and usually much less planning. They are generally readily accessible, and even more importantly, build up the stamina and strength required for the week or month adventures without completely dodging the outdoors. It’s still thick Alaskan wilderness, just not as deep. Now ten miles doesn’t seem so bad. Best of all, it’s not a treadmill. Consider it the heavy snack before the feast.                                   Seth Griffin
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