On the map it may not look like much, but this was a true test of character, and I guess I passed (barely). The odd thing about mountain "hiking" is perspective. As you're coming up the side, you really can't see the top. You look up and see what appears to be the crest, but when you get there, there's more above that that you couldn't see from down below. After several of these "false starts" I was becoming concerned with the time, temperature and weather patterns, and could easily have justified giving up and going back. I didn't. And at over 11,000 feet, I could climb for about a minute, then I needed another minute to catch my breath. I could tell there were blisters forming on my feet. I kept saying to myself "I'll get up to that next vantage point, and if I can't see the top, I'll go back". But I would get there, and a new precipice became visible, and as I gasped for air, I determined to go up to yet another landmark. I did this repeatedly. It was serene. It was beautiful. The sun was edging toward the western sky. I finally made it to the peak. This was a gigantic victory, both visually and emotionally, as the pictures indicate. I had persevered. Plus, I knew the route back was "all downhill". It was dark, and Nancy had already notified someone at the Cowboy Village Resort, but they decided to wait a little before they amassed a huge rescue force, thank God. I found a huge round dirt clod that I was sure was a geode, so it went into the luggage. When I got it back to Florida, I found out it was just a huge round dirt clod. Entire Map