After the main group had already achieved the summit of A Bluff, I worked my way back to join them, and to find my special spot.

It’s a different day. The snowy peaks of the Sangre de Cristo’s are clearly visible to the West. To the East I only see the tops of two tall spruce trees, just visible over a boulder.

I take off my coat to radiate away the heat that I generated during the climb up. Now I have to put it back on to defend against the wind.

I didn’t have to come back here. My legs hurt on the way up. “One step, then another,” I told myself. I could have turned around. No one would have known. How often would I get to do this again? With reasonable luck, maybe 5, 10, 20, 30 more times? With bad luck, never. “Better keep going,” I told myself.

SUDDENLY, the sun has had its affect. Snow and ice fall from the nearby branches with crackles and tinkles. Voices burble up from the trail below. A few sniffles emanate from hidden spots among the rocks. Other than that, it’s just a few hardy birds. The wind. Me.