"Where does that trail go?" Karen asked this morning. "Looks like an elk trail," I replied, eying the tiny uphill path. I know elk trails. How can a thousand-pound animal go straight up?

"Want to try it?" "Let's go," I replied, inwardly rolling my eyes. I hate bushwhacking. Give me a regular trail, please.

Up, UP we went, with me clawing uphill on hands and feet at times. Dislodge a rock and it bounced rapidly downhill, gaining speed. I stood up and nearly fell off the cliff backwards.

I was reduced to muttering bad words as I struggled uphill. "I heard the F-word," Karen teased. "That's right," I replied merrily. "And the S-word. It's aimed at this ridge, not you."

Don't Make Me Go Back

"Do you want to go back downhill?" Karen asked. She could see I was scared.

"I don't want to descend this bitch of a hill!" I replied. "We're halfway up. Let's go to the top of this ridge and find a safer way down. These rocks are unstable. When I step on a rock, it rolls downhill. I'm slower than you. Hey, I'm doing the old rest-step routine." (Step one foot up; gather yourself.) "Good for you!" Karen replied.

"I must be part mountain goat," said Karen who could magically walk uphill. "Put your feet where I step." That helped for about 10 steps. She's faster.

"Do you want to stop for a snack?" Karen asked. "No, if I set down my pack, it will instantly slide downhill," I replied and laughed. "Let's eat at the summit in shade."

After gaining 2,000 feet in elevation in less than a half-mile, we arrived in a hot, dry meadow atop the ridge. Today's high is 101 degrees, increasing to 108 tomorrow.

Descending on much easier trails, Karen and I ran through hot sun and slowed in the shade. It was exhilarating and fun. I love a challenge. I feel proud that we made it.

Look what we found! A Mariposa Lily. That's old elk poop on the left. Fertilizer.