Will this cloudy hell-hole ever clear?

The weather has made it so that I’m essentially alone; alone in the wilderness, with the bears. As soon as the isolation seed is planted in my brain I can do nothing to prevent its rapid growth. My footsteps become unsure as I notice my trekking poles begin to wobble. Fear engulfs me. What if I die here? In my mind I trip, break an ankle, and tumble down the massive rock face in a treacherous rock-slide, only to be consumed by hungry grizzly bears in waiting. My body would never be discovered by next year’s Georgia Tech adventures. The cruel Alaskan weather would grind my body to dust. I chuckle. I decide to take a brief breather and wait until the bulk of the group is within earshot.

The group catches up to me within ten minutes and I begin hike onward once more. Starting to walk again after an extended pause is always extremely difficult; my legs feel heavy as lead as I start the climb. Eventually, I break through the cinder-block wall called muscle soreness and notice something peculiar happening overhead. The weather is changing. A massive gust of wind blows from the west and removes the multitude of clouds that previously enveloped me. Now, nothing but a thin layer of white haze lies between bright blue skies and my unprotected eyes. Blueberry vanilla swirls now hang above my head. The sun appears magically—clear and as strong as ever—sitting high above my head. I quickly put on my dark sunglasses and glance around at my surroundings. No more than two hundred paces in front of me rest the three lead dogs, engulfed in warm sunlight and perched majestically atop the highest point of the Casugi Ridge Trail.

Feeling a new-found, weather inspired burst of energy, I quickly traverse the remaining trail and join my three fellow backpackers at the summit. Weather truly has the power to change a man’s state of being. As soon as I reach the summit, I freeze as though in shock. Here I stand, completely isolated from civilized society, engulfed in a freak bout of excellent weather, viewing a sight so illustrious that words can do no justice. Mt. McKinley stands directly in front of me, completely un-obscured by clouds; its snow-capped crags scrape the sky. I am overwhelmed with emotions, not knowing whether to cry tears of joy or to scream at the top of my lungs. Reaching this point, the highest point of the Casugi Ridge Trail—roughly five-thousand feet above sea level—has completely changed my life. Furthermore, the upwelling of wonderful weather has changed my outlook on college: maybe Georgia Tech and all of its extreme difficulty won’t be so terrible after all. I consider the arduous journey that brought me to my current location, the endless miles that lie ahead of me, the ever-changing forces of weather that grace me and the majestic majesty that is Denali, and can do nothing but smile. This is my home; the place I’ll run to when I seek my “happy place” late at night in the libraries of Georgia Tech, the time and position I’ll constantly look back upon as I realize I lived a great life. In one final realization I gracefully consult my pantheist roots, thanking Mother Nature for providing the exact perfect weather pattern I needed to bring me to this place.