We turned in early Saturday night; my husband, taking Riley out for the last time before bedtime, reporting another perfectly clear sky, the Big Dipper directly overhead. Finding ourselves too sleepy to read much, we still awoke later than usual, the next morning as well. Yet another fantastic weather day ahead of us to make the most of; blue sky, full radiant sun, high projected of an astonishing 80, for 28 September.

We heard on the news that a volcano in central Honshu (the main island of the three that comprise Japan) had erupted, killing up to 30 mountain climbers, and wondered why there didn't appear to have been any warning ahead of time as surely unusual seismic activity would have been picked up to enable proaction. Turns out there were warning signs interpreted and lodge owners of the many establishments located on the slopes had been advised.

We set out for the day's adventure late, at noon, took another, alternate route bypassing the main highway to Franconia Notch, and there saw plenty of trailer parks, tawdry motels, cabins, small towns, quarries. Also a large, space-consuming cemetery just at the junction of a town so small the cemetery clearly held vast generations of former residents -- of that town and likely enough, adjoining ones. And a truly astounding number of motorcycles all this week, increasing on the weekend. Very few motorcyclists wear helmets; almost none in fact, and no other protective gear, let alone appropriate footwear. Some play loud radios and how they can even hear them above the din erupting from their back end is beyond me; it's a deafening tumult. "Live Free Or Die"

Splendid views as usual on the approach to the Notch. The Basin parking lots were packed, fuller than we'd even seen them. People with young families, with dogs, couples and groups, extended families, all converging on the spectacle of one of nature's more modest but still notable geological marvels. The short trek to the Basin itself was crowded overwhelmingly. So many dogs present as well of all sizes and breeds; as much as we could do to avert Riley's truculent attention from them.

Finally, we set out on the trail and the crowd thinned. Each time we see it, the trail looks more worn. We could see where several old trees had come down recently in the near forest interior. At the lower reaches of the granite plateaus, we saw a good number of people assembled and plodded on upward ourselves. Riley was decidedly less energetic and enthusiastic than he's been on our earlier climbs. The roots and rocks are even trickier at the Basin trail, albeit of shorter duration. We finally veered off the trail over to the smooth, granite raceway because at that level no one else was yet present. There, we sat awhile on boulders, appreciating the beauty of the day, the scene and the tranquility embellished by the rushing water.

Soon enough, a handful of people began arriving to do for themselves what we had been enjoying. At that point we were just below the huge old pine we had first noted and admired for its size and age, posing one of our young boys beside it for a memorable photograph. We estimated it must have fallen a few years later, which would date the event to approximately 35 - 40 years ago. We've seen it countless times since then, needless to say. It still looks perfectly stout, lying across the raceway.

People were making their way on the descent. We could clearly see that the doughty young and fit and the curiously adventurous were making their way across the switchback to attain the continuing trail leading eventually up to the mountain lake. Possible now, because of the fall low-water level. We spoke with one fellow as he was descending from that expedition. Took him many hours of patient plodding as it had done us, in an earlier lifetime.