Rumors of a road to the top from friend of a friend. Splitting national forest roads that get thinner and thinner like the branches of an ancient tree. . Mother earth. Manzanita, pine, and snow. Too much snow. Claustrophobia hits us as the greenery pushes in and the snow rises up. . So we push back. And we push foreward. Light returns, and we can breathe again. We're near the top. No turning back now; not that we could anyway. One last rounded corner, and... . Woah, what a view. And so we stay a while, relishing the fact that it's ours. . And then we continue on. .