Caught suddenly in a high country storm, I dashed for cover under a rock overhang while lighting and rain ripped the air and thunder boomed around the crags. The threatening clouds transformed the grandiose vistas into a small gray world where I could only see just beyond the brim of my hat. As it often does in the high peaks, the storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. A beam of sunlight slipped through the breaking clouds and fell on a ridge in just ahead of me. An old bighorn ram had also sheltered from the storm in the rocks and when the sunlight shone on him, he stepped up, closed his eyes and stretched into the golden beam. He stood there still and straining for the sky. In our own way, we all are at times, “Going to the Sun”.
