He wakes up to the news of snow reaching the mountain tops in the Valley of the Sun. It is too dark to see outside this early in the morning, but he takes no chances, slipping on some thermal long johns, gloves and a puffy winter coat.

It is just after seven a.m. as he arrives to Lost Dutchman. Before him is the mighty Superstition mountain range. It is the first weekend of 2019 as he starts the hike to Siphon Draw.

The first mile eases him into the desert, with expansive views on all sides. Quickly he comes to the base of the mountain, and the trail disappears. The canyon walls merge together, forcing one to scramble upward. The elbow is still painful from the fracture a couple of months ago, and pulling ones self upward is proving difficult.

He banishes the pain to the back recesses of his brain, blocking out the negativity telling him to turn around. The mans will overpowers his sense of reason as he slowly pulls himself up another rock.

One step at a time and you will make it….eventually.

The flatirons become more prominent, yet the scrambling becomes an increasing challenge. He finds pockets of snow, making everything wet and slippery.

“No need to be the fastest, that is not your style old man….”

And so he continues to climb, past the snow, over one rock and another, resting often as those with quicker agendas move on past him. Mile after mile he goes, feeling the burn as the elevation rises.

Mid morning comes and the sun breaks free of the clouds just as he summits. The East Valley lay before him as he cracks open a rewarding beverage and sips away, his feet dangling over the snow covered precipice.

The clouds move quickly overhead like a blanket being pulled up tightly around your chin as you nestle into bed, waiting for your dreams to take hold.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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