There are two paths up the mountain and that made all the difference. Winding switchbacks, a meandering through trees, soft green moss, tinkles of a winter brook, robin trills and the high-pitched tweaking of the kinglets high above. Glimpses of blue overhead and the occasional amber leaf of a Garry Oak mark the path below my feet.
At the summit are blue skies above and blue water below. The far islands curve in an optical illusion and I can see the friendly shapes of the mountains that guard Vancouver on the mainland.