Fall. Hard Fall.

In the last week, we passed through the last gentle days of Indian summer and entered the days of hard fall.  The colors remain in the larches and some lowland cottonwoods and aspens, but up high the leaves have been stripped by rain, snow, winds, leaving grey sentinels bidding their time until spring.

Last week, a friend and I hiked a few hours up a close by valley.  Stopping where the valley split, with mountains rising on three sides, the other dropping back steeply to the Elk, we sat on a rustic bench for a mountain picnic of whole wheat hard rolls, smoked cheese and a couple of oranges.  Before we even finished slicing the cheese, we took a break and pulled everything we carried out of the pack and put it on. It was cold.  Not just chilly, but a bone biting cold.

As we finished, the sun dropped behind the ridge and the first of a deeper evening chill layered on top of the late afternoon cold.

Hiking out, we didn’t bother taking off the layers added at the upper reaches of the hike.  We needed them to brace against the growing cold and darkness.  When we reached the car our hands were stiff and our cheeks flushed.

These late days of fall change rapidly, hour to hour.  From sun in the morning to rain showers, to snow showers to gropple bouncing off the windowsills accompanied by thunder.  The snow level creeps down Fernie Mountain and back up again to be hidden by low hanging clouds.  The sun sets into broken clouds and the moon rises into a clear bitter cloudless cold night.  In the morning the roofs lie glazed with frost.

And the snows of winter.  Tantalizing.  Tempting.  So close.

Is it deep enough up high to hike?  No?

Wait a couple weeks.  Patience.

In the last month, we’ve moved ever closer toward winter.  First losing shorts, moving to long pants.  The stashed shorts followed soon by the sandals and a morning of digging through drawers looking for socks, preferably pairs of socks.

Now on the cusp of the season, we will soon be wearing boots. And waiting those last few days before FAR opens.  The last vestige of fall will drop with the swinging of the chairs on the mountain.

A new season will begin.