Stopping at the bottom of the gully, I survey the climb in front of me. The path nearly disappears into the bleached white slope with the icy holes left in the snow by previous mountain wanderers being my only means of navigation, I plot my course one literal step at a time. I place my feet into each hole as if I am walking a set of stairs made of an unknown strangers staggering footsteps. I can see the places where their boots slipped on the rocks below the snow and their hand prints where they caught balance on the frozen bank. As I progress I begin to think of the tracks as if I was being lead up the mountainside by a ghost.
If you want to witness true beauty in its most natural form, visit Yosemite National Park in California. Endless forest of Pines, Cedars, Sequoias and Oak sprawled over roaming valleys and hills leading up to massive Granite formations jutting toward the sky. Yosemite Valley is one of few places I have visited where I could not concentrate on anything but the surrounding landscape, everywhere I went I felt as though I was small child experiencing my first toy store, wandering around, constantly looking up in awe at the enormous granite walls overreaching the canopy of evergreen trees.