The Summit
Tuesday evening, early August. My human came home from work and loaded the car. I knew from the speed of it — quick trip, close to home. Snoqualmie Pass. The clouds were dragging across the peaks, moody and gray, the kind of evening that smells like damp rock and impending weather.
We scrambled up Silver Peak from the Annette Lake Trailhead, pushing through second-growth forest that smelled like nothing interesting and then hitting the talus. Loose rock, sharp edges, good footing if you pick your line. Four paws help. Near the treeline I caught a scent thread — something large and musky, woven through the talus. Mountain goat, maybe. Old, but there. I paused and let it register. Whoever lives on this peak was here before me and will be here after. I moved through quietly. The wind picked up near the top and brought the smell of every valley in every direction.
The summit panorama was worth every boulder. Even under the clouds, peaks stacked to the horizon in every direction — the whole Snoqualmie corridor laid out like a map. I sat on the highest rock and let the wind press my ears flat. This is what summits are for.
Below us, an alpine lake sat in a deep basin ringed by forested ridges. The overcast sky made everything moody and dramatic — dead snags on the ridge standing like sentinels. I could smell the lake from up here, that particular cold-water mineral scent that means swimming. But not today. Today was a summit day.
The Loop
We dropped via a different route to make it a loop, descending through a massive talus field. I picked my way through the boulders, cliff walls rising behind me, each rock wobbling slightly different than the last. You learn how to read talus. This is a skill I have.
Back near the trailhead I trotted along the road with Silver Peak rising through the trees behind me. Tongue out. Done. Satisfied.
Two and a half hours, car to car. Short, steep, and the kind of after-work scramble that makes living near the pass worth it. This is what we do — he comes home, I read his energy, and we go. No discussion needed. My human had dinner. I had kibble and a long drink of water and fell asleep on the couch with my head on his leg before it was fully dark. Efficient.