Hiking the now familiar trail from Andrews Lake, I made quick work of it in the cool morning, relishing the crispness in the air that would soon vanish from blazing sun rays. It had been a stretch of hot days. After the cutoff to the left, the trail kept level for a good distance, until re-entering the trees, and then climbing steeply toward the northern edge of Snowdon. As I neared Snowdon's northern ramparts, I quickened my step, eager to reach the delectable slabs.

After getting above the rock pile shown above and beneath Snowdon's riddled and pocked north face, I paused to enjoy the warm golden rays of the lowly-risen sun, watching the shadows retreat from the broad meadowlands west of the mountain.

Several options appeared before me. I began by taking the "middle route" in the picture below.

Right away, I relished some easy and fun, juggy and solid class three.

Then the angle relented, and I walked for a bit, weaving around and over the boulders to Snowdon's heights.

How remiss of me: I didn't take any more photos of the scrambling beyond this point and the summit. The time went by in a pleasant flow and, when my mind was pulled from the present, it was to recall fond memories of similar routes in the past. Anyhow, as I proceeded into the reaches at the top left of the photo, I ended up angling even more to the left, and, at one point, I had a choice of threading up ledges to the right, or taking a short gully to the left. I opted for the gully and was surprised to find an obligatory class 4 move; the holds had simply diminished in size here at a choke in the gully. Overall, it had seemed that the mountain was a morass of class 3 and that harder moves were hard to find.

Atop Snowdon, I sat down to enjoy the views and a bite of "breakfast." With a perfect forecast and a short itinerary, there was no need to rush. So I gazed about at the wonder in all directions, but, most often, the Needle Mountains to the south held my attention.

Ending my reverie on Snowdon, I trekked southward, and the way ahead was an illusion; I knew difficult terrain lay out of sight between the generous, flat summit I strode across, and the benign, rounded shape of N2 that sat so deceptively close. I continued, and Snowdon's gentle summit narrowed to a broken ridge. I tried to remember the reports I'd read about bypass route - some ramp with a pine tree, and realized I had no idea to which side it lay.

My reading of prior reports had made me much more predisposed than normal to abandon the ridge crest, and so I soon found myself walking a fathom or so beneath it on the east side. Below is a look back to the descent from Snowdon. This terrain all entailed class 2-3 travel.

Shortly after, I came to an area that perplexed me. The ledge on which I walked became a great deal more airy as it folded inward on the mountain, above a notch in the ridge.

I didn't like the feeling of curling around on the black rock; I could likely make it, but to slip would be to risk severe injury or death. Nor did I want to drop an unnecessarily large chunk of elevation. I backtracked, climbed to the top of the ridge, and then dropped into the gap between the black rock and the golden rock. To my surprise, I found a simple way forward, climbing the yellow rock in between the two red-stained towers in the photo above. While steep, I felt this to be class 3 and not class 4.

About fifteen minutes later, I reached the deep cleft that would require a rappel, and I wondered if I had needed to search more diligently for that "little tree and big tree ramp" and how far I would need to backtrack to do so now. But before I undertook that work, I decided to take a good look around. I was rewarded with a feasible passage on the west side.

This grungy little gully went at class 3. After that, I returned to the ridge, passing beneath a formation resembling some prehistoric creature.

Reaching the summit pitch required a few delicate steps. Then I eagerly clambered up the ledges to the top.

Abruptly on my second summit, I turned to review the way I had come.

Then, I peered further ahead of me, recalling yesterday's traverse from N Twilight to W Needle.

As I walked toward N2's southern edge, I considered the 12er, N3, which loomed, long and low, in the foreground. As with the prior day, part of me thought I should add it on to the itinerary, and my feet had covered far fewer miles today. I decided against it. I don't aim to hike all of the Colorado 12ers; only those that appear interesting, and this one did not stir me.

The descent off N2 involved some typical junky talus, but nothing terrible.

After side-hilling and finally dropping to grass, I soon made a delightful discovery.

I made my way to the water's edge, and enjoyed the solitude at this lake that was every bit as serene as Crater Lake - actually more so, with just myself here to enjoy its beauty.

Refreshed, I began the bushwhack to intercept the trail. That endeavor went pretty well -- not too many downed trees or other annoying obstacles. Taking the path of least resistance, my steps were steered westward, toward the Crater Lake trail, versus northward, to the Snowdon trail. I joined the trail about two miles from Andrew Lake.

Later, enjoying a quick dinner at Moles Pass, I looked at Snowdon in the dying daylight, and reflected on the last two days.

Still later, at my camp by Little Molas lake, I joined the other campers to rapture at the sunset. "Is that the Twin Sisters?" one asked.

What a fine day in the San Juans.