The Line

Avalanche Lake, High Peaks Wilderness, Adirondacks, NY. The walk down from Avalanche Pass to the lake drops steeply in a narrow passage between mountainsides. I am deposited on a questionable shore, with a snow cover hiding the edge of the ice. Down at the other end, the wind channels between the peaks to find the low areas, to whip the ground snow upward in a frenzy that is illuminated by the sun just cresting the peaks to the east. But I stand in relative shelter, surrounded and protected by snow dusted and ice crusted cliffs that tower hundreds of feet above me on either side. I am grateful to be out of the stinging wind, but after a long trek in the early morning through closed forest and shadowed gaps, I am longing for sun. I stand, chilled and shivering now that the heat of moving has worn off, looking at the line between darkness and light. I cross so easily from one side to the other as I journey, but the drama of it isn't usually so easy to see. Choosing the wrong trail can be gloomy for a long time, but usually I don't think about that before I go down it. The destination always seems bright, but I guess I've found the word always to be a sad destination. If I wait long enough, the earth will turn and the sun ascend, to bathe me in light and relative warmth. But waiting won't speed that up, and so I move. And if you are coming down the trail, maybe we'll reach a line, and step from shadows into light.

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Filename: The Line.jpg
Image Size: 2048x1362 / 1.9MB; Adirondacks Adirondack Mountains ADK High Peaks Wilderness Avalanche Pass Avalanche Lake Colden cliffs lake frozen ice landscape snowscape landscape photography Ray Palmer Photography winter snow hiking
Contained in galleries: Adirondacks

Avalanche Lake, High Peaks Wilderness, Adirondacks, NY. The walk down from Avalanche Pass to the lake drops steeply in a narrow passage between mountainsides. I am deposited on a questionable shore, with a snow cover hiding the edge of the ice. Down at the other end, the wind channels between the peaks to find the low areas, to whip the ground snow upward in a frenzy that is illuminated by the sun just cresting the peaks to the east. But I stand in relative shelter, surrounded and protected by snow dusted and ice crusted cliffs that tower hundreds of feet above me on either side. I am grateful to be out of the stinging wind, but after a long trek in the early morning through closed forest and shadowed gaps, I am longing for sun. I stand, chilled and shivering now that the heat of moving has worn off, looking at the line between darkness and light. I cross so easily from one side to the other as I journey, but the drama of it isn't usually so easy to see. Choosing the wrong trail can be gloomy for a long time, but usually I don't think about that before I go down it. The destination always seems bright, but I guess I've found the word always to be a sad destination. If I wait long enough, the earth will turn and the sun ascend, to bathe me in light and relative warmth. But waiting won't speed that up, and so I move. And if you are coming down the trail, maybe we'll reach a line, and step from shadows into light.