Instead I sat on the rocks as Lena read through some of the journal entries. Besides a distant car, the rustling of the wind and the turning of pages it was silent. It was the peaceful place that we both needed after days of driving.
After an hour or so it was time to get back on the road to we reluctantly left the table and headed back down the trail. Not long after started down we passed an older couple on their way up. They had cameras and water bottles around their necks and seemed to be carrying quite a bit in their packs, which might have been why they were sweating in the cool fall air and resting on their trekking poles every few steps. We stepped aside to let them by as one of them said, between deep breaths, “Please tell me this place really exists.” I gave them simple directions for their last few minutes of walking as the continued uphill saying, “thank god this wasn’t a cruel joke.” I hope they found the same peace at the Poet’s Table as we did.