Mountain Riddles with Answers

I stand taller than trees, older than rivers, wearing snow crowns in winter. What am I?

I’m the ribbon of rock carved by hikers’ boots, switchbacking to the clouds. What am I?

I’m the wooden staff that steadies steps on shale and scree. What am I?

I’m the peak that glows pink at sunrise, signaling climbers to rope up. What am I?

I whistle warnings through pine needles before storms roll in. What am I?

I’m the camp perched above tree line, where stars feel close enough to pocket. What am I?

I’m the paper map that unfolds with contour lines and compass roses. What am I?

I’m the talus cascade that rattles underfoot with every step. What am I?

I’m the lodge where cocoa, stories, and gear hang dry after a summit push. What am I?

I’m the wildlife spot that hikers whisper about—hooves dancing on cliffs. What am I?

I’m the crossing point over rivers born from glacier melt. What am I?

I’m the oxygen-light air that tugs at lungs above 10,000 feet. What am I?

I’m the summit tradition where climbers leave flags, notes, and a handshake. What am I?

I’m the avalanche watch, digging pits and reading snow crystal stories. What am I?

I’m the descent dance of switchbacks, sore muscles, and triumphant smiles. What am I?