Boulder hopping in absentia, far from the speed demons on the 395 and the boring sterility of the auto malls and medical super complexes of the Southern California super spread. Bending our minds and bodies in altitude and somewhat dangerous attitude. Can you make it to the next granite hold without an unfortunate slam into the waiting talus below. A bit of danger hiking now and then reminds us of our mortality while we slake our thirst before another balancy section of semi exposed ridgeline. An occasional slip here and there on a sloppy section is thankfully thwarted by a convenient ledge. Mount Mills, Mount Abbott and the dreaded Bear Creek Spire are the pieces of the puzzle yet we find forgiving routes. The rush is intoxicating and in our older age we struggle with it but at the end of the day you've done your work a pretty honest day's work moving over granite. Being in altitude ready for a canopy of stars and dreams we stumble back to camp and reach for the painkillers before stove top ramen with broccolini and the usual bear clean up. The anxiety of the flatlands fade into pine whispers and a shimmering Vega overhead.