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On this day in mid-October, Tessa, Mizpah's assistant hutmaster, and I hiked up the southern Presidentials quickly so as to beat the rising clouds to the top of Washington. Just above Lakes of the Clouds, we emerged into the clear. The billowy, shining tops of cumulus clouds stretched as far as the horizon, making the above-treeline ecological island a visual one, as well. The sensation was oddly exciting and comforting, a reminder of our temporary and happy isolation from the human world (mostly) below.
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