I cannot believe this campsite! I am camped just inside the treeline. Directly to my north is a small grassy meadow filled with wildflowers maybe 30 feet wide. Due north of the meadow, the mountain rises sharply. It is a heap of huge angular stones. I believe there is a pika living among those stones, because I heard some pika-like squeaking.
Looking east from the meadow, I see the trail I came up, winding farther up the mountain through the krumholz , the twisted and gnarled trees. The trees are shrunken and one-sided from the wind and weather.
The most spectacular views are to the west. There, huge, rough rocky peaks rise from the valley covered with snowfields and alpine glaciers. Awesome!
Stars are shining everywhere from a cloudless sky, thick, bright and abundant. The wind is blowing and blowing and blowing. It never ceases, nor does the roar of it in the trees. The little grove of trees I pitched my tent in helps protect me from it's full force, but the tent shudders and shakes and seems as if it might take wing.
I am writing by a tiny minimag flashlight and I am going to turn it off and try to sleep before I wear down the batteries. (I need a headlamp!)
(Wednesday, September 8, 1993, 8:33 PM Colorado Trail)