Distant Peak

Spend a moment or two with me on the distant peak we call Lookout. Spend a moment here, alone and high above the world, and listen to the rocks and wind. Listen to the story they weave into your soul...

Over 100 years of history haunt this peak. Imagine the boots that pressed into the rock here. The men and women who watched the forests below. The intimacy those who stayed here had with the landscape, the way they knew the names of every peak in the distance, the way they saw the small changes throughout the years. The jolt they may feel when they see their precious love scarred by jumping, destroying flames. I don’t know much about being a fire-finder, but you’ve got to be in love with some part of this grand landscape to not go crazy watching it every day.

The wind whistles as it travels through the languid blue summer sky. Alpine greens, which are actually closer to yellow, cover the landscape. From this mighty perch, the mountains beyond seem to be basking in the glow of this quiet august afternoon, trees casting long shadows over the craggy ground. The giant lake to the south, nestled between the sloping forests, lazily conveys movement in the shifting golden glitter that reflects off the waves. And in this natural beauty sits the rusting remains of human’s influence - an ancient fire lookout with a whitewashed façade that perches on this delicate mountaintop. Wobbling stones form an unsure foundation and the nearby cliff threatens to swallow this lonely shelter. It is an eventuality. But it is content. For as far as one can see from this lonely peak, there is contentment. In the shifting of the pines, the resolution of the lookout, the color of the sky, there is peace.

Writings and Photos By Maximilian Monson (2022)