Yellow Aster Butte

This was supposed to be a trip to see some fall foliage and enjoy the endless views from Yellow Aster Butte. Mother Nature had other ideas, exclaiming, "Ha!" as we headed out from Everett under gray skies heavy with precipitation. Arriving at the trail head we encountered two other cars. The clouds hung low but our spirits did not succumb to their weight. Beginning with a challenging elevation gain we rarely saw much more than what was very close to us and this was shrouded in white and gray ranging from the wispy to the cotton ball. Much of the hike had a halloween/gothic feel to it and behind each rock we expected to see trolls or demonic dogs or headless horsemen (horseperson?) jump out and block our path but, alas, our only encounter was with two well-camouflaged bear hunters with shouldered rifles and defeated grins. There were also the 20-somethings who sprinted past us with vigor and creakless knees. We, at least, could stop and smell the roses (when we were not fighting back the sniffles) and look at the earth beneath our feet (after breaking out the cheaters) knowing we, too, would arrive at the destination for today. And, after a time, and a final push up, we made it to the top and saw: nothing. White was everywhere and hid everything but the four of us and the ground upon which we sat/stood. And this was not our final reward for down came the hail, not a friendly greeting but rather an icy fare-thee-well as we began our descent. God was with us and the hail stopped briefly as we neared the tarns which pitted the earth like small-pox scars on some unseemly titan and, there before us, a rainbow. Though they hang from the sky like a frown our lips curled up into smiles as we beheld this optical feast. Not even the return of hail, which at last gave way to rain, could wash from our memories the wonder we beheld. And when we at last arrived at our car, we had forgotten the worst and remembered a colorful arc painted in water colors in the sky.