can a mountain die?

Today I went for a hike on Mount Wachusett, the highest peak in Massachusetts east of the Berkshires. The view from the top was a 360-degree panorama with Boston to the East and New Hampshire to the North. Unfortunately, it happened to be a somewhat hazy day, but I could just barely make out the lookout tower at the southern end of the Quabbin reservoir in Ware…

The mountain contains 1,000 of the state’s 10,000 remaining acres of old growth forest. It was a crazy trail, and not what I was expecting at all! A lot of it was walking on basalt slabs, part of it was a stone staircase, and in other places I was clambering up a hillside over rocks and roots following the blue blazes.

Part of the trail went through a hemlock forest and short, alpine-like deciduous trees. Another side of the hill was practically barren of undergrowth with a lot of downed trees and branches.

I couldn’t figure out the sensation I was having until the very end of the hike when the word “desolation” settled in my mind and I was overwhelmed by this sense that “the mountain is dying.” It looked like some giant behemoth had clambered along the hillside, pushing trees over, uprooting them, tromping on them once they’d fallen. I don’t understand why the western side of the mountain in particular was so strewn with broken trees. Weather? Is it the effects of wind, ice, water, and snow? It was pretty tragic. I was grateful for every little sign of spring I found along the way.