This is from a climb of Mt. Shuksan I did one very hot July.  I was very sick with heat exhaustion by the time we reached base camp. Tony forgot his gaiters (they keep snow from going up your pants or down your boots) and had to fashion some from duct take.  Thankfully, I felt good enough to summit early the next morning. Do you see the small figure? Humans are itty bitty things.  I guess I keep painting early morning or late evening climbing scenes lately because they are shouting with visual  beauty, but the quietest place you will ever be (unless it's windy, of course).  How can something so big and alive be so still and quiet?  Why would a mountain seem to listen for my breath and heartbeat?