It was the first evening of the long trip. Only half an hour before, we descended the slopes of Mt Shasta back to camp, and I was feeling restless, fed by the mountain’s energy. Something hinted me to return to a turn in the road where we drove earlier that day, and I couldn’t but listen to the whisper.
Following it was more than worth it. When I reached that turn, the sun was just about to start its descent behind the mountain range to the west, and soon, the steep slopes of Black Butte were drowned in the most beautiful colours.
It was, hands down, one of the – or, probably THE – most beautiful sunset I’ve ever witnessed. The colors danced around the short but sharp peak and the air was buzzing with energy. I could feel it on my skin, and I could almost hear it, this hum, this crackle, and tunes of the song only the mountain with the choir of the sunset could sing.
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