Unbridled joy pretty much means she doesn't know what's next.
May has always been the perfect month for Bandera Mountain. The darkness comes late enough that it's not too hard to get to the summit before sunset and the line of descent leads due west where Seattle is highlighted against a red sky.
And it was perfect on this night because Lilly opted to accompany me. (Henry would have come, too, but he was working.)
I've done this hike many times before. In fact, it was the very first TNAB trip I did. That day was in terrible conditions and I remember being nervous to be hiking with a bunch of potential axe murderers I'd met on the internet. They turned out to not be psychopaths or at least not the axe wielding kind so it all worked out.
This time, the weather was perfect. Not hot. Not cold. Just right. We made good time up the well-maintained and popular trail. Leaving the trailhead in the early evening on a weekday meant we had no company.
When we first got a view to the south I heard words that warm my heart. "I hate you, Dad." That's what the kids say when I take them somewhere that requires they work hard, but determine all that work is worth it because the views or the experience is so wonderful. So it was for Lilly in spite of the steep slopes, rotten snow, and mosquitoes.
We didn't actually stay for the sunset. It seemed far more sensible to get down before it got too dark. We did partake in the requisite glissades. It's that time of year where there's a touch of instability in the snow so it wasn't a surprise that I triggered a wee little avalanche.
Rest assured I was fine. And somehow Tinkham avoided hurting herself after she tore down the hill. Must be nice to be a youngin with all her cartilage.
My butt might have been cold, but seeing Lilly and Tinkham silhouetted on the ridge above me warmed my heart all the way down to the car. (And at the car I had a change of pants.)
