On the way to Cannon Mountain, likely to hike the last 4000 footer of the season, I followed a little Toyota onto the entrance to Highway 4 West.
There is something endearing about going to a school to learn about beauty. Someone I know and love thinks the term Beauty Salon is out of date. As if the ladies weren't beautiful enough and had to go to a shoppe for more. Nowadays this someone thinks it would be more pc to say Haircutting Place or Place of Smelly Chemicals.
Here's some scary beauty.
Shale scree erosion!
(No wonder the Ol' Man of the Mountain fell here.)
First ice of the season! On ledge!
Heavy threatening clouds!
The summit of Cannon Mountain with two hours 'til dusk!
Loose footing, ice on the rocks, rain falling, and mountains at night; talk about tackling the fear of falling again. She walks the hair-thin line between humble and cocky, between facing fear and foolishness. Might as well make that hair beautiful while walking the thin line.
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