The last thing we expected climbing the mountain and approaching the crest, the easy summit, was a man up there on a stool playing a button accordion!
In the past we have climbed to the summit and met face to face a falcon at rest.
Two young women with guitars and beautiful voices.
Nothing but snow and no tracks but our own.
Today it was a wedding and it was breaking up as we arrived. Maybe thirty people all dressed well, except for one happy slob in a large Hawaiian shirt, unshaved. There's one in every family.
The good looking squad with the bride & the groom in the center were being photographed over and over; many different stages of people, every one wishing to get into one of the photographs at one time or another.
And the accordion player played on. Lovely tunes, that swept over the rock crest and settled down into the valley somewhere. One moment he sounded single-handedly like the Buck Owens band, at another turn in his procession he was tooling out the theme song to Dr. Zhivago.
We sat there and listened, far enough away from all of it, on a flat rock placed there before any of us were born.
Bob Arnold
