The trail was just what my restless mind needed.  Being the over analytical type, I tend to work things over in my mind until they become cloudy and contorted.  The outdoors tends to favor me by filtering matters by a relevant hierarchy that brings everything into a fine perspective.

Being a good snow year, there were still patches of the icy, out of place stuff, in places protected from the suns emerging summer time heat.  The weather was already rather hot as even a slow walk at three miles per hour was getting the sweat flowing.  When we approached the falls, the cool, humid mist caused by them was purely heaven.

After the junction to Yocum Ridge, a couple miles up the trail, I don't know really how many, the views exploded.  Wildflowers were in full bloom as the fields literally lit up, even in full day light, with color.  I was ready to stop and have a think.

We continued to climb as Yocum Ridge came more into focus.  This would be a supreme spot to set up a camp for a night, or a weekend, or maybe, a week.

"A little bit further" Bob said.  Amazing view after amazing view filled my peripheral vision.  I became a little sad that I did not bring any overnight kit.  Although it would be a dry camp, the elevation gained was not enough that one could not bring a few extra liters of water with them.

Once at the viewpoint, I could think.  And think I did as I sat and pondered my various unanswered posers.

With the Sandy Headwall glacier glaring at me, letting me know the significance of my issues in life, I pondered them with a supreme focus that I cannot do at home.  I cannot explain the healing power of watching nature unfold before my eyes.  The fact that this mountain was here long before me and will be here long after I am gone, somehow, gave me all I needed.  After a few hours staring at this marvelous tool of life sustenance, we started back towards the car, taking an alternate route.

The route back sans the views was just as serene.  I discovered all I wanted to on this trip and more.  More meaning the flies.  Flies that bit and bit with a vengeance.  If we stopped for one minute, my arms would literally be covered with fifty of the filthy buggers.  Despite the flies, with a rock face and a creek at it's base, this too would be the idealistic spot for a campsite.  The flies continued to bite as I raced back to the car, bitten, but fulfilled.

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