That weekend in the mountains

I don't remember exactly when it was — a few years ago, maybe four? I drove out for a weekend with no plan, just a paper map and a bag in the trunk. The whole thing comes back in pieces now.

You

You

Dinner was at a place in some small town on the way back — a pizza shop with the strangest dough I've ever had, no cheese, and toppings I couldn't quite identify. I think it was good? Or I was just hungry from the hike.

You

Somewhere mid-afternoon I found a trailhead. I'd planned to drive past, but the lot was nearly empty and I had hiking boots in the back, so I parked. The mountain didn't have a name I recognized.

You

The morning started at some diner I'd never been to before. The portion was huge — a tall stack of pancakes that took up most of the plate. The waitress kept calling me "hon." I think I had coffee but I'm not certain.

You

I think the climb took maybe two hours? Or it could have been three. I remember sitting at the top for a long time before I started back down. There was a kind of stillness up there that I don't get in the city.