10:32:54 am, day two. We have been traversing through the
headwaters of Mount Hood’s southeastern drainages for about 2 hours. Snow
field, boulder field, snow field, boulder field and so on.
Except for some scrappy white pine and a random purple
flower, nothing grows here. I can feel the late summer sun beginning to drape
over my neck and carve out my shadow. It is desolate and beautiful.
“Look heroic,” I said to Damon before this shot. With a waning gibbous sitting over the right shoulder of a volcano, all the picture needed was a
hero.
