What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
~John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America
The air is cooler, the visibility from the summits are usually better than in the summer, and the leaves on the trees can make the trail glow as if it was on fire.
The wild ram embodies the mystery and magic of the mountains, the rocky canyons, the snowy peaks, the sweet, clean air of the high places, and the sense of being alone on the top of the world with the eagles, the marmots, and the wild sheep themselves.
It is only in appearance that time is a river. It is rather a vast landscape and it is the eye of the beholder that moves.
Romance often begins by a splashing waterfall and ends over a leaky sink.
In hiking, the amount of elevation gain, or to quote Wikipedia, cumulative elevation gain, or simply gain, is what makes a trail steep, really steep or not so steep.
In hiking nomenclature, there is the oft-incomprehensive term that is ‘elevation gain’. I’ve read a few blogs on this, and also Wikipedia’s entry, but some of these write-ups read like an episode out of physics 101. Elevation gain shouldn’t be that hard to figure out, and I think it’s very important to understand. Your hike could possibly become unexpectedly unpleasant because you misunderstood the amount of elevation gain on a given trail. So, in this ‘I Hike Far’ installment, I would like to see if I can come up with my own layman’s version of ‘elevation gain explained’.