No set trail will get us there,
But we’ll get there just the same.
It seems at first a lonely place,
Of monstrous rocks and alpine lakes.
But the Golden Trout are many,
The mountain climbs aplenty,
And the wildness more than any.
So, deep into the Winds we go,
The fish are bightin’, the creek’s a roarin’,
The waters clear, and the mountains soarin’.
The camping’s good, big rocks for sittin’,
And pondering there, is only fittin’.
The place’s tales are sometimes frightenin’,
But in the end they’re all enlightenin’.
Through the trees the wind is whistlin’,
Talkin’ to those a listenin’.
Gettin’ there takes plenty of walkin’,
A good bit of guessin’, and lots of talkin’.
How was it found, all are wonderin’,
Was it fate or all that thunderin’?
When we reach the lower lake,
We know we have arrived.
Whatever hardships block the way,
Are just the price we pay.
It will be there, it always is,
It’s embedded in our minds.