The lower slopes offered some vertical rock walls that allowed some boldering fun to warm up with. As we climbed from there in the frozen winter air, the sun slipped toward the horizon changing the hue and texture of the snowy mountainside from pure white to golden yellow, to ruddy red as we neared the summit. The sun-tinted snow was freeze dried into a powder so pure it was a delight to play in it.

As we crested the top of the mountain the Klamath basin spread out below us. Scanning the horizon, Mt. Shasta towered to the south and Mt. Mcloughlin to the north. These volcanic giants were transmuted into glowing silhouettes as the sun started to set. The band of sky encompassing the western horizon grew blood red, casting the higher summits in a supernatural light which is difficult to describe even though the beauty burns clearly in my memory.

For a few precious minutes we drank in the view, allowing our senses to be bathed in the glow of a winter sunset. Shasta had become a black pyramid surrounded by red, McLoughlin vanished into the dark velvet of the north, and our sense of being was at peace. Is it nature that produces such feelings of contentment and harmony, or is the act of climbing and traveling though nature what stimulates such a reaction? I don't know for sure, but understanding this isn't important. Living with nature is the essence of being, which is the crux of the great mystery. Don't think about it, just live it.

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