Friday, August 5, 2016

The Last Movement

Sometimes, in the Whites, I’d close my eyes at night and still see a rock wall directly in front of me that I’m supposed to climb. Each day was crazy. Hiking was no longer about walking, and more about launching myself up these slopes, bit by bit, sweat streaming down from the effort of each ...

from Appalachian Trials http://ift.tt/2aDGR3Y

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