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Frank leaned forward to balance the weight of the pack as he stopped to catch his breath. He had left the Gold Creek trailhead at 6:30 A.M. that morning and had covered 12 miles of rough mountain trail since then. He was now only 100 yards or so from the top of Haden Pass. That's where the worst part began: a two-mile cross-country jaunt up the mountain with a 2,200' vertical climb up Medicine Mountain before he got to his destination.

After a short breather he straightened up, took a deep breath and continued to plod up the grade. When he got to the top of the pass, he kept watch for the small petroglyph of a peace symbol that had been scraped into a boulder as a marker. He finally spotted it and stepped off the trail. He pulled out his compass and checked the heading. He snapped it shut, dropped it into his pocket, sighed and slowly headed off up the mountainside.

He was tired. The last time he had been this way, 20 years before, it had been different. He and his wife had made the entire hike in less time than it had taken him today to get to the top of the pass. As he plodded along, he thought about her: about the hikes they had done, about her dark auburn red hair, about her laying nude on the grass in the meadow where he was headed, a sly grin on her face as she crooked her finger at him, beaconing him to her.

As he hiked, half his mind was on the terrain, avoiding rocks, making ...

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