The young man stood in the valley, craned his neck back thought to himself, "I am going to climb that mountain." Filling his canteen and with walking stick in hand he struck out, crossed the road and began his climb, one foot in front of the other. Sometimes his boot trod solid ground, or clambered over the salt-and-pepper granite. Chipmunks chattered at his passing and Marmots watched from the boulders, ready to sound the warning squeak. He wondered if he could remember where the Mountain Lion den was, so he could avoid that path. Stepping higher and higher, sliding over shale, now in sunshine, now in shade, he stopped from time to time to catch is breath. The valley began to grow beneath him and over his head, he could see the peak. "That didn't take long." He thought to himself. Icy water from his canteen revived his resolve and he struck out again, tramping and supporting every other step with his walking stick. Climbing higher and higher until at last, h...