On all these trips the Ramparts were gracious hosts offering me peace and quiet that rejuvenated me inside and out. This trip, after the first hard frost, was no exception.

The cold matured the colors of the leaves into dark reds and golds and ripened the blueberries to an extra level sweetness. Usually the cycle of cold overnight and warming during the day turns the berries to mush. But crazy people like me can get to the berries while they're still frozen and kissed by frost. I won't use the tired phrase, BEST BERRIES EVAR, but they were pretty dang good.

Below us on both the east and west side of the crest the clouds were reminding me why I climb. Those poor lowlanders that stay at home don't get to see the world above the clouds on days like this.

Treen was in heaven. She hadn't hiked since before my Montana trip a solid two weeks before. That's 14 weeks in dog time, which is clearly too long for anyone to be off the trail. Like me, she needs time outside and the wilder the better.

Although Rainier was hidden by the clouds (not all of them were in the valleys) the views were still amazing. From the peak the lakes were little blue gems tucked into the rocks and the mountains to the north promised adventures for years to come.

But that would have to wait until next Spring because Winter was on its way. It comes early to the high places. We descended, feasting on berries. Treen already bore the badge of indulgence with a big purple stain on her head. As we got lower where the berries were even better she demonstrated her best bear impression and used her tongue to delicately pick as she moved through the brush.

The snow has since closed this area to the casual adventure of a Sunday morning. It won't be until next May or even June if La Niña keeps up her work. Treen and I will retreat to more approachable destinations until the the deep mountains open up again. Unless someone is crazy enough to head up there in the dead of winter with me. If you're that crazy person, let me know.