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I put on the pack. Laced up the boots, grabbed the poles and went. I suspected that my old, broken down body would resist the majority of the walk even across the flat. I suspected I would go a bit up the base and then turn back, making sure to be conservative and not push it. But I just kept going. All the way to the top. It felt good to breath and to puff a bit on the steepest point. I saw lizards and hawks and even a helicopter coming through the back gorge. As I looked down at the Vegas Valley and saw my car way off in the distance I was proud of not quitting under the guise of being careful. Then it was time to go down. the trekking poles are a great help to bad knees. I worked my way down and looked back over my shoulder to see the first SUMMIT in my quest to get to base camp. I tried to find the name of my little mountain and just seem not to be able to. If any of you know, please tell me. I know some of you hike far more than me and may have the name of this one. There are no trails on this rock!