East of the Divide

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The eastern ranges announce themselves differently. There is less concealment here. Ridges rise directly from the prairie, the wind arrives with a long view behind it, and the line of travel often seems obvious until the limestone starts folding.

We started cold and moved quickly. The trail climbed through dry grass, crossed a shallow gully, then disappeared into scree exactly where the map insisted it should become most useful.

Above tree line, the day reduced itself to simple things: the next cairn, the sound of loose stone, a jacket on and then off again. Farther west, new weather stacked against the Divide.

A moving horizon

Running is an efficient way to travel through a landscape, but it does not have to be a hurried one. We stopped often: for water, for photographs, for the uncertain pleasure of naming peaks we only half recognized.

The final descent arrived as the first shadow crossed the valley. We reached the trees with tired legs and enough daylight left to walk the last kilometre slowly.