No matter what you say, I'm peak. No cap, except ice on me. When snow sloughs off me, don't trip, My melting streams are pure drip.

Through forest dark or mountain pass, I quietly form where travelers pass.

If you drop a yellow hat in the Red Sea, what does it become?

I am the land’s enduring vein, bringing life through the hills and plains. I carry trade and travelers far, until I meet the oceans’ arms.

I am a massive wall of snow that breaks loose from a mountain and rushes downhill with terrifying speed and force. I bury everything in my path under tons of ice and powder. Loud noises or warming temperatures can trigger me. What am I?