If the temperature rose about ten degrees and the sun came out, I'd be in just the right mood for a group of friends and a trip up Bong Hill. For the view (another) (and another), the relaxation, the intoxication, the feeling of freedom, and the sound of breeze through trees and across grass. If it got cold, or we climbed at night, maybe a small campfire in The Caves. Like that one time, drinking Busch Light, staring at the fire, and laughing; when, during a lull in the conversation, we heard off in the distance: "this is the end, my only friend, the end" drifting in the forest night. We followed the voice of Jim, and found a keg party down the lane. Magikal Bong Hill.
After a few hours, when we had to go, a fast slide tumble slip down the Face to end the day. The many times I've done this in the past may have added to the erosion...sorry.
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