January 1986, on the top of Moro Rock, in Sequoia National Park, which is just up the road from my home in Visalia. It may look like I have a death grip on the rail, but I don’t remember being at all nervous there. I’m 28 here, and there are two things I notice in this picture: how much hair I have compared to today, and how much snow on the mountains compared to today. Both were much thicker than now. Mother Nature can be a bitch, and Father Time a bastard!