The upper "falls" yesterday, with water gliding down the smooth, nearly regular rock on the mountainside. A little bowl-shaped divot in the rock intercepts a little of that water, producing a natural fountain, constantly shooting it up and out half a dozen feet.
The mountaintop, shrouded completely by clouds that are scarcely a hundred feet above our heads. The cool continuous mist from walking up the trail into that cloud.
Crevices everywhere on the trail. I wouldn't think that an ancient mountain like that could be so easily eroded, but Friday's storms cut foot-deep trenches all over its top surface, leaving rough red pebble-laden sand everywhere.
A baby Wallaby being cuddled by one of the zookeepers, letting people touch it and feel the rabbit-soft fur. A baby gorilla being played with by another zookeeper, both of them behind glass.
The eyes of the mountain gorillas, disturbingly intelligent-looking. The remarkably strong limbs of the gibbon, casually flitting around his cage, swinging in a carefree way that I can only envy, plotting out complex routes as he bounces continuously from branch to rope to ring to the ceiling and back again.
The soft tongue of the giraffe, which wraps slightly around your hand as he takes the proferred crackers. The "small" giraffe, perhaps a foot shorter than the rest, reaching his head under the bar that the others are all over, hoping to get a share himself.