I climbed South Sister last month because it was there. We planned our summit for sunset so we ended up descending in the dark. I remember wearily stumbling back into camp at midnight, extremely tired, hungry and dehydrated (despite the massive amount of water I left camp with). It was quite a struggle to set up the stove and make some dinner, even more so to make the 1/4 mile trek down to the lake to pump water (but I cannot begin to describe how good ice cold mountain lake water tastes at such a time). Despite fatigue, I did both of these things, and then still summoned the energy to set up the camera to work on a star trail exposure while I collapsed onto my sleeping bag. It was 12:30 by the time I got all this done, so we set our alarms for a four hour exposure in order to close the cameras before the sun started to light up the sky, washing out the stars.
It is a pretty amazing thing to climb a mountain like this. But I think it is even more amazing to lie on a mountain, as massive as it is, and look up and realize how dwarfed it is by everything around. To watch the stars wheel and dance overhead and get just the barest glimpse of the perspective on it all.
On a semi-related side note, I don't dwell too much on things I have little power to control, but it is a mild regret of mine that I will not live long enough to see viable interstellar travel. I would love to travel to those same stars and amongst them, photographing all the way there and back again. But then again, who knows exactly what the future may bring. ;-)
And I know some of you may suggest that I remove the light trails from the planes. I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I will. They are, after all, part of the story I wish to tell.
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