(Merchant and Gunn, S Slopes, March 14, 1996)

Very _very_ early in the morning David, Duncan and I leave the car,
hike up the road, find the proper gully, and head up slope.  We move
with little feeling of effort and soon arrive where the gully steepens
and turns.  Follow that up through the meadow and on to the ridge
line.

The ridge is narrow and exposed.  My feeling of comfort is replaced by
a feeling of precarious balance.  We rest at the ridge for a while,
then scramble on up to the peak.  At first I move awkwardly, but soon
recover my confidence on steep terrain.

Coming back from the summit I continue to work my way down the ridge
to traverse to Gunn Pk.  After several hundred feet the ridge opens up
with gentler slopes coming up from the N.  Soon after that I enter an
old storage shed.  It's large, airy, and has that clean smell of age.
I work through the sparse crates and miscellaneous objects to join the
road that comes up from the north east and passes through the shed.
Looking back down the road I can see a small lake where a few people
have camped.

Continuing west along the road toward Gunn I come to a small cluster
of houses.  I stop by the side of the road by a garden, off the porch
of a moderate, tidy yellow house and wait for David and Duncan.  The
smell of baking is in the air and I hear noises from the kitchen.
This is a very pleasant day.

Together we three continue past the intersection and head NW toward
Gunn.  After a while we realize that the road has been descending for
too long.  We round a bend to the left and can see the town of Index
down below us to the west.  We have stayed on the road too long and
come round to the N slopes of Gunn, missing the summit.  Oh well,
enough for the day.  We turn to head back.

Passing through town this time I notice that the people who live here
have some unusual physical attributes.  I see a couple children and
adults with excessive hair.  Hair streaming off their faces, down
their arms, full on their heads, like warwolf makeup in the movies.
Others with unusual shapes to their faces or their bodies.  Walking
through town they stare at me, the stranger, but with an open,
friendly feeling.

I also notice a large lake near town, nestled among the peaks, with
several small cruising sailboats moored in a bay at the town end.
There's a moderate wind blowing and I think that this would be just an
ideal place to have a boat.  In fact, this seems like an good place to
live: friendly community, beautiful mountains, large lake.

Back at the southern slope of Merchant peak I realize that I have left
my ice axe at the intersection and must trot all the way back to
retrieve it.  By the time we are ready to descend we think that the
sun has been on that slope for too long and it is no longer safe.
Looks like we are going to have to make the long trip out the road and
back around to the car.

But by now its early in the morning and I only have an hour or so left
before I have to get up and go climbing.