By Gary Walther

On the first full day at Mountain Trek, a tall, silver-haired figure slides through the side door of the dining room at 7:40, walks over to a shelf, picks up an old-fashioned alarm clock (the kind one winds with a key), and then plants himself at the head of the two tables, holding the clock before him, as if it were a memento mori.

Until now, the mood has been easy-going, chatty. We arrived late Saturday afternoon, Sunday we took a light hike up the road behind the main house (below), and in the evening, did a 101-weight workout in the gym.

The resort mood evaporates; silence descends.

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