The cascade can be heard from the Whitney Portal parking lot below.  It’s one of the sounds mountains make that I love so much.  Higher up the mountain the spring melt is in full swing.  The streams are swollen with life-giving water.  Down it flows through tranquil meadows and riotous cataracts.  I am always thrilled by its power and turbulence as it plunges hundreds of feet down rock faces and over boulders of all sizes.

What is this urge that we must climb to the top?  Whatever it is, it’s irresistible.  Up I go.  But then I must stop.  The roar of the water no longer registers in my consciousness.  Before me is a scene of peace, solitude and quite beauty.