The day before this was a constant, cold, rainy fall day in the mountains. Sometimes it was just misting, you know that mist that's not rain but soaks everything. Sometimes there was wind where the cold rain blew sideways into our faces. It seemed totally random as we walked in the clouds.
We had hiked up a trail with nothing short of 10 million switchbacks, ascending 3000 feet from the valley floor to the plateau above. The way back was fraught with mud on everything and everyone. And still it rained…and rained...but not enough to remove the mud...
It rained off and on all night. But it stopped sometime in our sleep. We awoke to a fog-filled valley, which for all of us was a rare experience. As we stood watching the sun slowly hit the tops of the fog banks, swirls began to form. Fog that was colder began to warm and move up the mountainside to disburse once hit full by the sun.
It was a slow and elegant dance as the clouds parted and returned. And the colors began to return. It is rare here to see the sun disburse the clouds in such a slow and elegant manner. It is even more rare that we were a part of it. We were mesmerized…and stayed until our feet were numb.