I remember reading about a man who was going to make a pilgrimage from the town of Mt. Shasta, up the old Everett Memorial Highway, to the top of the mountain. He made elaborate preparations in the form of a handmade leather apron, knee pads, gloves etc. There was a write up in the paper as I recall. The big day finally arrived and with his support team, they headed off. Several hours later the man was bruised and bleeding and he bailed out! Done! Never to return to the "accursed" mountain again! In the words of one of my heroes, "Sometimes our big splashes, are just ripples in the pool." Forgive us our cynical thoughts!
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