As the gentle wind rustled through the forest canopy, a shower of reds and yellows and oranges rained onto the mountain trail.

Beams of light poked through the leaves as the trail climbed above tree line (3,500 feet) and ropes and ladders and stairs began to appear.

This was not the toughest Catskill trail, but a few places got pretty hairy and required scrambling up rock faces.

Luckily when we reached a point where things looked intimidating, log stairs were cut into the mountain-side.

Surrounded by such vivid colors, which at this elevation were absent, I started thinking about a world devoid of color, full of desaturated tones of black and white. Thoughts?

 

 


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