I cut some teeth here. I bled some.
I came here when I needed answers.
Or I needed to erase the questions.
I explored and climbed and fell.
I ski’d and snowboarded and slept out here.
In the summer months when the sun doesn’t set till early am I would come out here and climb after work several times a week. Scratching up mossy fragmented rock. Peeling back the dirt just to get a handhold. Peeling back the skin.
I came back cause I was angry and frustrated and I didn’t want to feel that way and thought I’d find some steep ground on which to burn off my anger and my frustrations. So I drove to the end of the road and looked up and spotted an old mining cabin I hadn’t ever noticed before.
I followed a narrow switch back trail until it ran out and then I cut across the scree and moved carefully up and through a steep boulder field. I lost sight of the cabin and when I found it again it was just below me to the east.
the remains of several other collapsed structures lay here and there in heaps of bleached white wood. Rusty old cans scattered between the rocks.
A camp fire by the front door. This was newer.
Inside, a couple old spring bed frames and on the window sill and just above it, a boot and a bone. Assign any meaning you deem appropriate. I felt better on the way down.