Sphinx Pass

The approach to Sphinx Pass from the West is steep. I negotiate the granite moraine in stepwise fashion and climb toward the 12,040 foot pass. The unfathomable tonnage of the boulders has settled on the mountainside like a pile of disconnected Legos. I must balance and listen as sometimes the rock shifts precariously under my weight, and a deep, slicing sound reverberates in the hollow spaces beneath my feet. I make a game of it. If I hike faster it is safer. No worries if a granite boulder, perched motionlessly since the time of the Pharaohs, suddenly shifts. I have already moved on. While ascending I marvel at how my inconsequential weight has changed this landscape in subtle ways forever.

When I rest I pick a stable, flat rock and sit. I put my palms on the surface and feel the heat from the sun which the rock has absorbed. I pick at the patches of lichen. It miraculously grows here, nurtured by the energy and nutrients ingrained in these rocks. The backs of my hands are already red even though I have slathered on the sunscreen. The water in my Nalgene bottle, icy just a few hours ago, is now warm. I look up at the pass, a perfect, symmetric "V". Or is it a "U"? It is close now. I know that a new panorama, a view into Brewer Basin, awaits me at the top. But for now I will simply sit.