We continue on to the Eastern loop of the Mogan Ridge trail, another 6 miles or so. It follows indeed mostly a ridge, with ups and downs.
Ridges are an interesting design pattern, they can serve as watersheds between light and dark, for instance.
They are — isn’t it in the word? — rigid borders, immutable, and encourage compartmentalization.
Walking a ridge means having a constant choice: Shall we go left and hide in the woods, or do we confront the alien who is beckoning strangely?
What better place for us than this lake, protected between two ridges? Don’t we want peace?
Someone has decided to stay.
The true ridge walker will avoid either choice and stay on the ridge, letting all possibilities pass.
And on we go. Stone faces are looking at us again with disdain. They didn’t have a choice.
Do we have regrets? No, we’ve made our choice.
The Inner Frame 