golden

The trails were oddly empty this weekend, when we got up early--as early as we could, eager to beat the holiday weekend crowds. We hiked the first part of the trail in darkness, and at first we were certain that it was empty because, somehow, we were the first ones to arrive. But there was no one, just a few people returning from their own trips. No new day hikers or backpackers. Just us and the mountains and the woods. The weather was magnificent, the mountains were beautiful; it seemed nothing short of a miracle how perfect the trip was, how alone we were out here. Such a marked contrast to the constant noise and static of the city.

It wasn't until we tried to return home that we understood: we were alone because we were the last ones to leave. The city fell silent after we left, and the suburbs and small towns followed shortly after. No one online knew what caused it, before online fell silent, too. So we turned around and headed back.

We can't survive out here forever. Even if we can find enough forage to live on, the winter will come and we aren't prepared. But it was beautiful, and if the silence takes us here, at least it will be someplace too beautiful to be believed.