“The mountains are calling and I must answer.”
I know not what attracts me to these mountains. They are pretty; they are majestic. I vacationed here as a child. They beckon to me with peace and calm even when out of my sight.
And sometimes, I must go for a hike.
I sit on a small waterfall, the highway invisible but audible through the trees below me. A ski area lies dormant beyond sight to my left, taking a breather between peak-bagging summer vacationers and the craziness of leaf-peeping season.
The stream burbles contentedly above and below me. There are no cars to fix, no lawn to mow, no litter boxes to empty nor laundry to fold. The fire department radio cannot reach me here, even with cellular assistance. Agiocochook looms above as the wind soughs through the branches here at. . .
. . .End of Trail.