Monday June 16 2003
I found myself inside sheepishly asking for directions from the gondola operator. The intrepid mountaineer reduced to getting help to surmount the major difficulty of the day, a building in my way.
Once by this, the trail is instantly pleasing and takes you quickly away from the crowds. I had the ridge to myself for the entire day, an absolutely awesome summer sway with little more that a slight breeze, just enough to cool me off in the bright sunlight.
The first of three summits poses the most difficulty, just a small amount of moderate scrambling. Once you get to a ledge that traverses out onto a slab, look back over your shoulder and you’ll notice a pair of gullies doubling back and up onto the slabby ridge.
After a small amount of hands on scrambling you gain the top of the ridge.
Now you can see the second summit across a col on the ridge and about half an hour away. This next summit has some fossils about half way up. I spotted a group of three sea shells.
The last summit is next and when you near the top of that you may get the feeling that the last stretch looks more difficult but looks are deceiving. Just persevere and when you get there you can sit yourself back and enjoy a fantastic view of neighboring summits like Mount Rundle, Big Sister, East End of Rundle, Ha Ling Peak, Mount Lawrence Grassi, The Sundance Range, The Goat Range and also the Spray Reservoir.
Once your done with all of that, march yourself the 14 or so kilometers back to the trail head at The Cave and Basin National Historic Site. Enjoy the warm weather.
A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching.
Sri Swami Sivananda
1887-, Indian Physician, Sage
Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father’s name; Piled high, packed large, –where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning’s dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
1806-1861, British Poet