The long hike made his pulse jump. He gasped for air like he was making hook shots at the basketball court, and his ego was still in a relatively positive place. Last night, he slept in his truck at a trailhead below; the tight space gave him a crick in his neck. He took a minute now to check the GPS on his phone; he still had a quarter mile further to go before cresting out. Back on his feet, he took a long pull from the rubber hose over his shoulder and got back to it, headlamp beam bouncing out ahead. Mentally, he was humming along to KC and the Sunshine Band, a song he didn’t want in his head but wouldn’t go away, and as the chorus played over and over, he crested the bowl at 9,300 feet.