A Mountain Path

"Great things are done when men and mountains meet. This is not done by jostling on the street.” — William Blake

I remember my first real experience with a mountain. When I was about eight years old we were driving in Springerville Volcanic Field in Arizona and stopped by one of the small extinct volcanoes called "Cinder Knoll." My father let me out of the car and I raced up the hill until I reached the top. It was early afternoon and I could see for miles and miles. There were some clouds blowing in from the south and my father was getting afraid of lightning and he came running up the hill yelling for me to get down. I should have been afraid of lightning, but I finally saw him coming up the hill and ran down. From that moment on, I loved mountains. I don't run up the hills so much anymore, but I still love the mountains.