It smelled amazing. A certain alpine freshness. I found the campground and a spot on which to toss my pack before heading up the last couple hundred feet and quarter-mile through heather to the pass for a bit of a break. I crested it with views east into the Little Beaver Valley and Whatcom, enormous, rising from the rocky ridge that led south. Challenger was blocked from view. I’d climb higher in a bit to see it. And then Luna – the loneliest mountain – from even higher.