The trail starts in beech forest and climbs, politely at first, then all at once. The maples along the upper switchbacks had already turned — deep red on the shaded side, still orange where the sun reaches. I started at five-thirty with a headlamp and reached the ridge just as the cloud sea below began to thin.
There is a particular quiet that only exists above a cloud layer. Sound arrives late, or not at all. I drank my tea, watched two ravens work the updraft, and came down the long way, slowly, on purpose.