the channels

It takes two hours to hike to the top,
provided you don't stop along the way.
For the first hour and a half,
all you see is brown.
I hate the color brown, unless it's a
soft shade of mahogany. The last half hour
teases you with lush green rhododendron plants and
water springs popping up everywhere and
the trail turning every ten seconds,
making you think that 
you're going to reach the top.
When you do get to the top, an
old fire tower with
rust creeping over the metal and
broken ladders stares down at you.
It looks like it's going to 
collapse on you at 
any moment. So you
hurry past the tower, 
being careful to not roll your
ankle on the rocks. Vines clot the
next pathway, and you pretend you're
Indiana Jones, doing insane 
parkour over the vines and rocks.
Suddenly, shafts of 
rock rise on wither side of you.
And you can't breathe.
Where did the sun go?
Why did it get so much colder?
How did these rocks get here?

The hike was worth it. Questions
swarm your head; your fingers dip
through the cracks and over the
ridges of the rocks. It is 
amazing to 
say the least.

Mere words cannot describe it.