Looking ahead to Rose Peak, miles away and out of sight. Because of the way the whole of the land rises up here, the peak is not like an island, but the end of a long ramp. Each ridge obscures the next, making it somehow more opressive than seeing a giant peak you must climb. You never feel as though you are getting anywhere.

 

  

And the broken-down trail sign doesn't help the feeling.

 

  

If that was Little Yosemite earlier, this thing must be the Little Matterhorn.

 

  

Little Matterhorn is now way back there, and the San Francisco Penninsula starts coming into view.

  

And up and up ...

  

Buzzards are circling ...


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