|| Presidential Range, New Hampshire || I didn’t see anyone else hiking. But really, I could hardly see anything at all. The Presidential Range is a series of giant boulders. There is often no path, and a hiker’s way is made with the aid of cairns. They’re built by trail crew to be tall and imposing, and most were crowned with a football sized piece of white quartz. The quartz shone out of grey fog like a lamppost.
For three miles, I walked uphill through a cloud. I would stop at each cairn, wipe my glasses, put them back on, wipe them again on my sweaty shirt, and peer into the distance looking for another cairn. It was quiet, empty. I felt like I was on another planet. I couldn’t hear anything but the wind. In a grassy section about twenty feet wide, I saw a big rabbit hop across my path into a bush. A piece of pink plastic caught my eye, and when I bent down to pick it up it read: Respect Yourself.
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