- An American Airlines jet jockey named Al, a doctor of
Chiropractic named Scott and a wordsmith named Frosty met at the Crane
parking lot on a sun-drenched Colorado morning a few miles off Tennessee
Pass. Six inches of sparkling snow awaited them for their five mile journey
into the High Country of the Mt. Holy Cross mountain range.
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- "Dude!" said Scott. "Looks like great
snow! We might be busting trail at higher altitude."
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- "You got that right," Al said. "We could
see a lot of deep powder at 11,000 feet."
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- "Tick tock, tick tock," Frosty said. "We've
got five miles and 3,000 feet of elevation gain."
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- We skinned up our skis, hoisted the packs and hiked down
the road toward the trail head of the "Tenth Mountain Division Hut
System." Within a half mile, we reached the field where our trek
began.
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- "Looks like deep snow," Scott said.
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- "I can still see the trail," Frosty said. "At
least we won't be busting through deep, soft powder all day."
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- "Look at that peak in the distance," Al said.
"Is that the one we're climbing tomorrow?"
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- "That's the one," said Frosty.
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- We strapped on our skis and made our way through deep
pine forest. The trail led through the trees, then, across a flat meadow.
Once we navigated the distance, we headed along a ridge with the trail
winding like a serpent into the rough terrain. It climbed, dropped and
angled us along cliffs and gentle ridges. As we made our way through the
trees, a blue diamond marker let us know that we skied the right path toward
our destination: 10th Mountain Hut at 11,400 feet.
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- We began a long, arduous climb that led further into
the back country. Above our tunnel of lodge pole pine trees, an azure sky
profiled aspirin-white peaks in the distance. The trail wound through
the woods. We followed it. Within a mile we crossed the famed "Colorado
Trail." It stretched 540 miles from Durango to Denver. Hundreds
of backpackers use it each summer to trek through the High Country. Wildflowers,
foxes, deer, elk, sparkling white water streams and sheer wildness greet
them on every step of the trail.
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- John Muir said, "Climb the mountains and get their
good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into
trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms
their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."
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- Can't argue with our friend John Muir! He traveled many
miles over six continents in his time. He backpacked Yosemite and all
over Alaska. He created the National Park system.
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- Our journey kept a constant stress on the uphill climb.
Looking at the three of us, you might see the power of the rugby player
and coach, Scott, as he powered his skis up the hill. Al, moved with singular
purpose. Frosty moved effortlessly through the trees as if life meant
him to mingle with the wild things.
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- As the trio headed upward, gray jays and stellar jays
followed. They hoped for a handout from those intrepid travelers. As the
morning burned away into the afternoon, a few clouds skidded across the
sky. The sun created multiple shadows on the snow. Open areas filled
with aspen and willows bushes.
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- The trail rushed up, dove down and wound through the
gathering woods. The men held their packs and determination into the miles
before them. Crystal breath exploded from their lungs as they labored
up the mountains.
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- "Let's stop for a swig of water and apple,"
Scott said.
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- "Got some great oranges," Al said.
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- We lowered our packs to the ground. We ate, drank and
talked. Scott asked many questions. He found himself on a quest to figure
out his next move in life. He attended a program presented by Frosty:
"How to live a Life of Adventure: Art of Exploring the World".
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- "I've got to find out a way to travel the world,"
Scott said, "and get paid to do it. I want to coach rugby and find
some sponsors. I don't want to go back to the box of an office."
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- To that, Henry David Thoreau said, "We need the
tonic of the wildness-to wade sometimes in the marshes where the bittern
and the meadow-hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the
whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her
nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground. We can never
have enough of Nature."
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- "You have the right idea," Al said. "There's
always someone who wants to travel or play or experience. You just have
to tap into those passions with your own."
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- "You're right," Scott said.
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- We moved back onto the trail with renewed strength.
The eternal snow filled every nook and cranny of the wilderness. It covered
the ground. It covered the trees. It fluffed up as our skis broke the
freshly fallen 10 inches and then close to 12 inches of fresh powder as
we gained altitude.
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- Later in the day, as the sun sank, the shadows crept
across the snows and across the peaks in front of us. We crossed a field
of cut-off stumps of trees. Big splotches of snow covered the stumps like
white hats. Always ahead, we saw the faint outline of the trail. And,
with each passing of distance, we noticed a blue diamond telling us that
we headed in the right direction.
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- "Man!" Al said. "How much further?"
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-
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- "Another hour," Frosty said. "We'll hit
the cabin before nightfall. I'll cook you up a big hot chocolate when
we get there!"
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- "Yippee ki yea!" Al said.
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- We moved forward with a quickening of the clouds and,
soon, snow wafted softly down out of the gray skies. It fell steadily
as we powered our skis through the gathering night fall. The sun no longer
lit the way. More snow fell.
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- After a long haul through a deep valley, we crested a
ridge. Ahead, a stand of pine trees gave way to a dim light in the distance.
Al's eyes lit up as he said, "The cabin!"
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- Robert Service said, "The wanderlust has got me,
by the belly aching fire, by the fever and the freezing and the pain; by
the darkness that just drowns you, by the wail of home desire, I've tried
to break the spell of it--in vain. Life might have been a feast for me,
now there are only crumbs; in rags and tatters, beggar-wise I sit; yet
there's no rest or peace for me, imperious it drums, the wanderlust, and
I must follow it. Highway, By-way, many a mile I've done; rare way, fair
way, many a height I've won; it's the wanderlust I've done."
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- "Is this cool?" Al said. "Snow falling,
night coming and we're out here in the middle of nowhereand now, those
lights mean a warm fire and hot soup!"
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- Al Wilson at the end of a five mile ski-in
with snow falling at dusk. Heading toward the 10th Mountain Hut at
11,400 feet, the Mount Holy Cross Range, Rocky Mountains, Colorado.
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-
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- "And hot chocolate," Frosty said.
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-
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- Frosty Wooldridge checking out the snowflakes
along the same trail.
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-
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- "Let's git 'er done," Scott said as he pushed
off onto the trail.
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- We reached the cabin to find eight women and two dudes!
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- "Welcome!" they chorused as we trudged through
the door.
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- Just in time for dinner, the group greeted the trio.
Most of the women hailed from Aspen, Colorado.
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- We found our beds upstairs and pulled out our bedrolls.
It had taken us 5.5 hours to make the five mile distance to the cabin.
We felt home at 11,400 feet.
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- Hot chocolate made for a warm and welcome reward. At
dinner, lots of banter and fellowship.
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- That night we slept by the windows at the top floor.
We watched the full moon rise over the mountain peaks. It glistened with
a thousand diamonds on the snow below. Pine trees cut their profiles across
the eternal snows of the High Country. Sleep came easy.
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- SUMMIT ASCENT OF A 13,000 FOOT PEAK IN WINTER
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- Next morning, we ate breakfast before heading out to
make an attempt at Homestead Peak some 13,208 feet into the sky. We laced
up the skis, packs and gear for a ski trek around the ridge to the summit
of the peak.
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- Al Wilson in front of the 10th Mountain
Hut. These are first class cabins with fireplaces, cooking and beds.
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-
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- As we made our way northward, we broke through 12 inches
of fresh powder. We busted trail by taking turns on a non-existent trail.
Around us, the sun felt like the freshest light upon the new fallen snow.
Rabbit tracks and mice left their trails in the fresh snow. A zillion
sparkling diamonds rushed up to greet our eyes. Around the ridge we carved
new tracks in the trackless wasteland.
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- Al Wilson and Scott Poindexter skiing up from
the cabin and looking back with the valley behind filled with clouds.
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-
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- An hour later, we reached a crest near the base of the
beast.
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- Al Wilson and Scott Poindexter skiing up away
from the cloud filled valley and sun at their backs with millions of snow
flakes sparkling like diamonds.
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-
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- Not having enough time and needing to return to a prior
engagement, Scott hot-skied back down to the cabin, grabbed his gear, and
headed back to his car.
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- "Take care and safe journey Scott," Al said.
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- "Nice to have you on the adventure Scott,"
Frosty said.
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- "Would you hold here for me to make the summit?"
Frosty asked Al.
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-
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- Al Wilson take the lead to break the trail
and 13,208 foot Homestead Peak in the distance.
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-
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- "Sure man," Al said. "I'd like to climb
with you, but these boots aren't feeling too good."
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- "Thanks man," Frosty said.
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- Frosty slipped down into the trees through deep powder
and onto a cirque that led up to the ridge on the south side of the Homestead
Peak. His story follows:
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- I cut south through some deep powder, maneuvered through
a rock field before beginning to climb the southerly ridge toward the summit.
A bright blue sky, shinning sun and moderate weather allowed me to make
good time. I poled hard to keep my place with each slide forward. As
I climbed higher, the windswept ridge felt like skiing on glass. I tossed
my heavy pack a third of the way up to lighten my load, but kept my Gore-Tex
jacket.
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- The more altitude I gained, the less oxygen, so I skied
forward for 30 meters, stopped, rested, and then, picked it back up. As
I climbed, I saw Al below and eventually, I saw Scott skiing toward the
cabin through the deep woods. Around me, pristine mountain peaks rose
toward the brilliantly blue sky. I reached a rock field and picked my
way through it.
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- The peak looked so high and SO far away. Yet, I gritted
my teeth, jammed the poles into the snow and pushed toward it. It's a
wild feeling pushing toward a 13,000 foot summit in the dead of January.
The cold works its way into a man's bones. The wind bites the face.
The steep climb causes a loss of breath. I grabbed big gulps of air!
Nonetheless, I felt a sense of purpose to make that peak, to conquer it,
to make it mine not only with my physical being, but my mental and spiritual
being.
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- Thirty minutes passed, then 45, then, an hour. I kept
a steady pace of cranking forward for 30 to 40 meters, and then, rest,
then pushing forward. As the sun hit the mid day sky, I reached the rocky
portion of the summit. I pulled my skis and stabbed them into the soft
snow near the rocks. I used my poles to walk the last 100 meters of icy
slope. I danced from rock to rock, then, rock to snow, and then, near
the top, I crawled over the lip of ice to stand up on the peak.
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- "You're at the top," I muttered to myself.
"My God what a view!"
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- Frosty Wooldridge at the top of Homestead
with mountains in background and 360 degree view.
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- Below, the world looked grand with clouds hanging in
the valley below. Trees grew a silent dark green for as far as I could
see. I spun 360 degrees for a winter-scape of jagged, white shark's teeth
biting upward to the sky. Blue sky profiled those rugged and majestic
peaks. Most of the 14ers I had climbed over the past 35 years in the summers.
I waved down at Al, but couldn't make out much other than his yellow jacket.
I saw the cabin and they could see me I later learned. From that high
place in the world, I stood alone with my thoughts. I said a little prayer
for my friends and for world peace. I stood there thankful for good health
enough to make such a climb in winter time. Not wanting to leave, I walked
back from the edge and fell back into a soft powder snow bank. I looked
up at the blue sky. What an amazing life we live!
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- As I rested, I thought about staying longer, but realized
that with all adventure, no matter how incredible or fascinating, I couldn't
stay for long. I could relish the moment, but I must leave that moment
to move toward another moment in my life. For me, I thought about the
simple taste of a cup of hot chocolate and friends back at the cabin around
the fire. For a few minutes more, I savored the climb, the effort, the
view and the profound beauty around me on that winter's day.
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- Robert Service said what I felt with his Call of the
Wild, "Have you known the great white silence, not a snow-gemmed twig
aquiver? Have you broken trails on snowshoes? Mushed your huskies up the
river, dared the unknown, led the way and clutched the prize? Have you
marked the map's void spaces, mingled with the mongrel races, felt the
savage strength of brute in every thew? And though grim as hell the worst
is, can you round it off with curses? Then harken to the Wild-it's calling
you."
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- It's been that way all my life. As I rested in that
frozen place, I thanked my mom and dad for the courage and tenacity to
stand on tall peaks, dive under great oceans and to mark the road with
my sweat and toil. It's been a hell of a journey.
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- "Better get movin'" I said to myself.
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- I took six pictures with my camera for 360 degrees and
one of my face and the back drop. I climbed down the steep, icy slope with
great caution. One mistake and no one would rescue me. At that place,
it's pure Darwin. You live and you die at your own hand.
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- I scrambled to the skis. I hoisted them onto my shoulders
and walked downward. The snow remained SO hard; it felt like walking on
ice. No way for me to slip into the skis for a ski down. In the past, I
had tried it and crashed many times. Too much abuse of my body! Wisdom
told me to walk it down. I answered wisdom's call!
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- A slight wind picked up as I made it half way down, and
then, the soft snow fluffed up in places until it gathered in a couloir.
I locked into the skis and tele-skied down to my pack. I pulled it onto
my back and began some switchbacks down the back slope to keep my speed
in check. I rounded the bottom, pulled back to my old tracks and before
long, I yelled out to Al, "Yippee ki yo ki yea!"
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- I skied up the ridge and met him at the place where I
had left 2.5 hours before.
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- "Good job dude," Al said. "The gang visited
and watched you reach the summit."
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- "Thanks for waiting," I said. "Cool that
they came out to ski and watch the climb!"
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- Al and Frosty ate an orange, talked some stuff and headed
back to the cabin. Around them an all white world dominated with touches
of trees. Al took many pictures. They skied back to the cabin within
an hour. Lunch never tasted so good!
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- Hot chocolate and blue berry pancakes awaited the duo
from the peak. Jeremiah Johnson never had it so good! In their own ways,
all those people in the cabin loved the wild that expressed through them.
Something about the 'pull' of that savage wintery world. Clean, brisk,
calm, peaceful and full of magic!
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- That night, the team invited Frosty and Al to dinner
with a warm round of wine, tea, hot chocolate, salad, rice and beans, and
to top it all, tapioca pudding!
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- "It doesn't git any better than this," Al said.
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- After dinner, the women decided to take a night ski under
a full moon. Everyone pulled on their skis, minor's lamps and safety gear.
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- "You guys goin' with us?" they asked.
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- "Count us in," cried Al.
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- We headed out on the trail with a mist covering the full
moon. Soon, it broke and the moonbeams shone across the night sky and
lit up the snow like a gazillion diamond sparkles. The savage, silent
mountains around them shone in the moonlight. Everything whispered quiet,
peaceful, hushed, gentle and so spiritually magnetic!
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-
-
-
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- Night ski with all the ladies and men
we met at the cabin.
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-
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- Back into the cabin, everyone talked about their experiences.
The fire blazed and hot chocolate ruled! Later, the ladies made some
ice cream with blue berries! First class!
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- Next morning, Al and Frosty ate breakfast while talking
about all sorts of things and current events. They stuffed their backpacks.
They slipped into their boots. They headed out the door. They stepped
into their skis. Then, they hoisted the packs. Ahead of them, a great
white blanket of snow invited them on a five mile down hill adventure.
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- "You ready dude?" Al said.
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- "I'm with you mate," Frosty said.
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-
-
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- Al Wilson skiing down from the cabin.
-
-
- The two men looked around their private paradise. Quickly,
Al spurred his skis into action and glided down the slope. Frosty followed.
They skied trackless powder, through wild woods and into the wilderness
beyond!
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-
-
-
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- Sunset over the mountains.
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-
- "The lonely sunsets flare forlorn, down valleys
deadly desolate; The lordly mountains soar in scorn, as still as death,
as stern as fate. The lonely sunsets flame and die; the giant valleys
gulp the night; the monster mountains scrape the sky, where eager stars
are diamond-bright. So gaunt against the gibbous moon, piercing the silent
velvet-piled, a lone wolf howls his ancient rune-the fell arch-spirit of
the Wild!" Robert Service 1906 Spell of the Yukon.
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