The day before we tackled Mt. Whitney, we hiked up the trail to Little Meysan Lake. Our goal was to get in a little elevation and get the muscles moving. We felt sluggish. Inside, I was panicking. The next day was only the event of my lifetime, and here I was huffing and puffing and feeling achy. Yet our surroundings were so breathtaking, that eventually we all fell into a rhythm and began to enjoy the climb up the trail. You could see the cirque that held the lake above us, and to the southeast, we looked out over a deep canyon.
Although we had a blue sky when we started, clouds were starting to gather. You could see the winds swirling and pulling tendrils from the clouds, eventually pushing them up against the ridge where they darkened. Was it going to rain? Maybe snow? I stopped to look up at the sky and saw this hawk circling above us. He had joined the party and accompanied us for a while on our journey. It seemed to portend good things.
As we climbed, the clouds continued to thicken. When we stopped for lunch, the breeze kicked up and out came the jackets—even ahead of our lunches. Fat drops landed here and there—just enough to make it fun—but also enough that we decided to head back after our lunch in case the rain got serious. It never did and neither did we. It was a great day.
Acrylic on Canvas 18" X 24"