The plan was a two-hour loop. I'd looked at the map the night before, picked the shorter of two trailheads, and told myself I'd be back in time for lunch. None of that happened, and I'm glad it didn't.
About forty minutes in, the marked trail forked in a way the map hadn't shown, and the better-looking path — narrower, steeper, clearly less walked — went up instead of around. I took it mostly out of stubbornness.
What the ridge gave back
The climb was ugly for the first half hour: loose scree, no shade, the kind of grade that makes you renegotiate with yourself every few minutes. Then the trail leveled onto the ridge itself, and the whole reason for the detour became obvious at once — valley on one side, a second range on the other, and nobody else in sight the entire way along it.
- Water ran out earlier than planned — carry more than the "should be enough" estimate.
- The ridge stretch had almost no shade; an early start would have made the heat far more manageable.
- The unmarked fork turned out to be the actual highlight of the day, which is not a strategy so much as a reminder to leave room for it.
The shortcut you don't take is sometimes the only part of the walk you'll remember.
Got back well after dark, missed lunch and dinner both, and would take the same fork again without hesitating.