Got off at exit 47 yesterday, not knowing there was a mountain rescue going on. I've been up and down Granite Mountain probably 50-75 times. Many times in winter on and off skis. It has a reputation and those that have spent much time there know it's foreshortened view from the highway does not do justice to the vertical it contains. The genuine peace and solitude it produces as merely 2 miles up the trail, the sound of corrosive I-90 disappear, and the mystical feeling of a large and powerful presence envelop you. It's a relatively steep and simultaneously straightforward formula, but there are tricks to getting up and down in winter. Stay out of the gully, off the steep open slopes, wander thru the steep forest, make a break for the seemingly wind blown finger, move quickly. Ignore the burn in your legs as it feels like a real mountain, and has proven itself time and time again to be a dangerous place at certain times. I've witnessed several rescues there. It wasn't that long ago when these were small intimate affairs, shared by few. Yesterday was a huge show. A lot of presence. An important man in that community lost his life, in a place where you venture to enjoy something so close to man, that in a few steps can take you so far away. Yesterday a man was taken by the mystical force that imbues the higher places - a small whisper of snow, a slight movement under foot, and that small place in your mind simultaneously decries belief and acceptance. "I died here today, this is how I died". And you listen to the soft surf sounds of snow glide overhead as the cold quicksand pulls you under. Blue skies fallen climber..
