Looking up

I was hiking on Mount Galbraith today.  The trail -- a well-maintained path about as wide as a sidewalk -- rises from the parking lot next to the highway, circles the mountain about half way up, and then retraces back to the parking lot.  Easy as pie.  Except that today I lost track of the actual trail about half way around the mountain and took a narrow, twisty semblance of a trail (possibly just a path through the weeds trampled down by deer) up to the rounded summit.  I was clearly off the beaten track.  No other hikers were in sight.  If I broke an ankle here, it would be a case of "That's all she wrote" and "Goodnight, Irene."  Fortunately, before I had a chance to get too panicky, I spotted a continuation of the narrow trail.  Descending gingerly on the loose rocks, I made my way down the mountain and rejoined the real trail.

In all the anxiety of the descent I forgot to look around for something interesting to photograph.  Finally, I looked up.  Nine hang gliders were gracefully swooping in the sky overhead.  Here is the nearest one.