Fog on Eagle Peak

Nadia and her best friend Owen spent weeks planning the hike. They wanted to climb Eagle Peak, a mountain in Colorado with one of the best views in the state. On a sunny Saturday morning in September, they parked at the bottom of the trail and started to climb.

The first three hours were wonderful. The air was cool, the trees were tall, and they saw two deer near the trail. At noon, they reached the top. They ate sandwiches on a big flat rock and looked at the mountains all around them.

"We should start down soon," Nadia said, and she pointed at some gray clouds in the west. "The weather can change fast up here."

But Owen wanted to take one more photo, and then another one. When they finally started down, the clouds were already all around them. Ten minutes later, they couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. Everything was white and wet.

"Where's the trail?" Owen asked. They were standing in a field of rocks, and every direction looked the same.

Nadia took out her phone. There was no signal, and the battery was at twelve percent. She tried to stay calm. "Okay. We have to think. We can't just walk around without a plan."

Owen sat down on a rock. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I wanted those stupid photos."

"It's nobody's fault," Nadia said. "Listen."

They were quiet. Somewhere below them, they could hear water. Nadia remembered a small stream that crossed the trail near the bottom. "Water always runs downhill," she said. "Let's follow the sound. It will take us down."

They walked slowly and carefully over the wet rocks. The sound of the water got louder, and finally they found the stream. They followed it down through the trees for more than an hour.

Then they heard another sound: bells. Small, friendly bells, the kind that cows wear. A few minutes later, the fog began to clear, and they saw a green field full of brown cows. At the end of the field there was a wooden farmhouse with smoke coming out of the chimney.

A woman in a big hat was standing by the gate. "Well, hello," she said. "You two look like you need some help. I'm Ruth Hale, and this is my farm. You came down the wrong side of the mountain, didn't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" Owen asked.

Ruth laughed. "Every year, the fog brings me a few lost hikers. Come inside. I just made an apple pie."

They sat in Ruth's warm kitchen and ate pie while their clothes dried by the fire. Later, she drove them in her old truck all the way around the mountain to their car.

When they got to the parking lot, Owen took out his phone. "One last photo?" he asked.

Nadia looked at him. "Owen."

"Relax," he said, and he showed her the screen. It was a photo of Ruth's apple pie. "This is the best photo of the whole day."