I went to sugarloaf mountain with Zoe yesterday, up to the very very top. Zoe wore a long,dramatic cape as we ran about the East and West point overlook laughing and tripping and taking hundreds of pictures. The mountain was silent (like how the mountains were in Wales) and was shrouded in clouds so that a thick mist filtered in between the trees, spilling over top the moss covered rocks. Before we began the hike up to the summit we hollered to the sky, to the fields that lay below us, to the orchestra of birds, and to the couple (the only people we had seen as of yet) sitting on a bench far below us.
The hike up to the top wouldn't have been so bad if not for my camera bags, but it still wasn't too difficult. It was lovely to hear nothing but the sound of our footsteps, our laughter, and the birds far, far in the distance serenading our ascent. The trees were bent and crooked, and the way the mist hung amongst them reminded me of "Where the Wild Things Are." There were giant boulders caked in crevices and moss, and the earth was perpetually damp because of Winter.
At the top I thought we had wandered into another world- the boulders, the warmth of the air, the cloud we were in, the arching trees, the steep drop from over the edge. We took some more pictures, and I climbed (stupidly) up a few more slippery rocks just so that I could be at the very top of the mountain. I sat there with my legs dangling over the edge and with my lungs filled with crispness as I watched Zoe dance and disappear between rocks and mist.
Besides my memories of England, I think this might have been the best day of my entire life.
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Zoe is an idiot and decided to act like Gollum
One of the final images that I got that day
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