I started up Mount Yonah early, with the sun coming up behind a thick layer of fog. The trail was quiet. Hardly anyone else was out, which was exactly what I wanted.

The first thing I noticed was at the trailhead: a big boulder covered in things other hikers had found along the trail and left out in the open. Eyeglasses, keys, a lanyard, gloves, a jacket. Someone had laid each item out, hoping its owner might come back for it, knowing they probably never would. That small effort for a stranger stayed with me the whole hike.

The climb itself was great. It was quiet and peaceful, and I took my time and let it be slow.

Partway up, I came across boulders covered in spray-painted graffiti. I’ll admit it frustrated me. But I didn’t let it ruin my day. People like that exist, and I can’t change them. All I can do is be different: the kind of person who leaves a trail the way I found it.

At the top, I walked out onto a cliff edge and saw nothing. The fog was too thick. So I sat down and listened. Birds. The breeze. The trees moving. For a while, that was the whole view.

Then, slowly, the clouds began to break. First a glimpse of green far below, then the distance opening up, layer by layer. After all that waiting, it was beautiful, and totally worth it.

I’m not someone who sits still. I like to move, and hiking is where I find calm. But on top of Yonah, in the fog, I stopped and waited, and that turned out to be the best part of the day.