By the grin on Miguel Loco's face you'd think he was a wide-eyed whelp on Christmas Day. His shoppe was packed with lookie-loos and serious propositions. Outside, the streets were packed; eking, scratching, half-bald monkeys throbbing and pulsing like army ants.
The trail was crowded, but the tundra was striking in the late afternoon sun of high summer. Our last push to the upper lake was worth it, the best part. We got free glasses of wine upon our return. Miguel Loco grinned with whimsiy when we told our tale.
"This is the high season," he said. "Milk and honey."