Last October my wife and I trekked the trails atop Hawk Mountain. Fog entangled our views and intermittent drizzle made walking on the boulders not only slow, but dangerous. I first visited the mountain on a field trip in Jr. High School. I remember being told to watch where I was walking because the terrain could be tricky. Most of the trails are rocky but easily passable in decent hiking shoes, but the lookouts are predominantly clusters of boulders. Scrambling over damp rocks carrying camera gear impressed upon me what could happen if an ankle twisted or a foot got stuck. I don’t want to sound macabre, but people have died from lesser things. The last thing I want is to have James Franco play me in some movie, so I was extra cautious.
After a while the thicker fog began to rise from the valley floor and presented some rich autumn colors for the two of us to see. Not that we were alone at the North Lookout, but most everyone else was craning their necks to catch glimpses of hawks migrating past. I’m sure they appreciated the views, but even the guide I spoke to, whose station was the North Lookout for the morning hours, informed me in great detail about the birds spotted over the past few days. I was told genus and species, quantities, flight paths, behavioral patterns and so forth for the hawks gliding their way gently through this area of Pennsylvania. I was more interested in how many broken ankles or falls over the cliffs had recently occurred, but those questions went unanswered. Eyeing my camera she assumed I was there to take pictures of the aviary wonders, so I felt compelled to resume my perch and click off a few more pictures.

Nikon D800 Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8 @ 70mm f/9 ISO 200 1/100 sec