home to the mountains

I'm in amazement of how much I needed to be in the mountains and I didn't even know it.

The day was spent talking about our amazing families and the climbing community and if what we do is worth the death that happens in the mountains to people we love and care for. And we discussed the amazement of finding a place that's untouched and being able to capture it in an image to bring back to people. I love being a storyteller, sometimes. 

This time of year always makes me think of the people I've lost in both the mountains and the backcountry. There is something about the transitioning of summer to fall, when it gets colder and slower and raw, that makes me miss those people dearly. 

I feel their souls a little closer, though, when I am surrounded by peaks and can see the milky way bend across the sky and fog rolls in like a sea through valleys in the early mornings. Those kind of pure moments of honesty are ones no one can steal from you...those are the kinds of things I will think about when I'm worn. Those kinds of moments are the things that people haul a 40 lb backpack miles into the wilderness to witness and I guess that's because it's stripped of excess. Or at least, that's what I feel when I look at it.

I feel better after sitting in a hammock, uptop a ridge with a cup of tea and eating a chocolate bar for breakfast (you can do that when you're an adult). It rekindled some inspiration and made me feel like shooting photographs is what I love and want to do. 

Things are good.

(I was able to go photo-shooting with a great photographer- take a minute and see some of his images: www.ryandaythompson.com)