As I observed the half moon, decorated by the pink sky, my eyes fell along the ridges of the Eastern Sierras surrounding Mammoth. I acknowledged the high desert mountains, barren with little snow shared with a beige, tan color scheme.
For three years, I have made a number of trips to the Eastern Sierras and the valley sharing Mammoth. Every time, I am captivated with the landscape of the area, unknowing why.
Perhaps it is the Minuets that pierce the clouds while framing the backdrop of Mammoth Mountain. Their rugged crevices, sharp couliars humbly hold of my gaze from the chairlift. The mountain range warns of danger while mystifying the onlooker.
When I look the opposite direction, the backdrop turns to arid desert, without vegetation suggesting the body of water that lie there many years before. Caressing the land, round mountains stripped in snow, scale the landscape.
Nostalgia crosses my path when I look to the arid Long Valley Caldera below Mammoth before my flight down Mammoth. There is a wild peace that coats the Long Valley Caldera, a peace I have experienced through warm memories spent with various friends, beyond the scope of the main road, drinking wine under the starry-eyed canvas after dipping into the hot-springs in our underwear.
Once I revisit my accompanying memories atop the Mountain, I visit the panoramic view of the Minuets, desert and the distant Yosemite National Park. I feel small, yet connected with my favorite mountain to spin top-to-bottom ski laps.