I don't like to participate in threads like this. That this man spent a good part of his life seeking and discovering himself on Mount Hood is enough. As one with a comparable number of Hood climbs, all I can say is that this particular mountain has an aura all its own. Whether it be alpenglow on rime-encrusted Steele Cliffs, sheltering against a howling blizzard in the wind cirque at Illumination Saddle, standing on the top and watching the sun rise, stepping carefully along the corniced summit ridge above the Queen's Chair, the smell of sulfur, the roar of river cataracts, Hale-Bopp Comet on a star-filled night, tears for The White River Glacier, or reading a book about mountain adventurers here--long since passed--next to the big stone fireplace as a storm rages outside in the night. This place is magical. Even though I never knew you, I believe I understand you a little. I'll think of you when I'm there again.