I have come to the realization that although I have been out here for about two weeks now, I am nowhere near acclimated to the altitude. And here is why.
I decided to (finally) get my ass in gear and go for a hike before sunset hit Tuesday. Let's just say it didn't take too long for my breath to be short, and the complaints to start flying. That slope was tough! However, I did carry on... at a pace not far from that of a snail.
About 40 minutes, and several stops later, we finally reached the top of Drinking Horse Mountain. In that instant, all complaints were forgotten, my brain ignored the panting in my chest, and the camera came out. The views were spectacular. The sun was about 35 minutes away from setting, and a faint orange began to glow over Bozeman below. As we wandered around the summit, I couldn't help but thinking to myself how lucky I am to have the time to live in a place like this for a season. Growing up and settling down wasn't in my immediate sight before the hike, but it was even further from my mind afterwards.
Greens and blues danced together as the surrounding mountains met the skyline. Leaves blew in the strengthening wind, and long blades of grass swayed in unison on the ground. Faint sounds of barking dogs could be heard, and distant conversations of hikers on their way up and down, but it was still so peaceful.
After taking in the scenery, we decided to make our descent to beat the sunset, and make it back home for dinner.