One of my fondest memories as a boy was the time me and a few buddies climbed "Frenchman Mountain" in Las Vegas, Nevada. Las Vegas is a rough place to grow up if you have a love for outdoor adventure, as the temperature rises up to and above one hundred and fifteen degrees. So, we rarely ventured out during those blistering summer months. We had decided on a Friday night that we were going to climb (conquer) the large mountain that literarily sat behind out collected neighborhoods. We woke up early on a Saturday morning and picked up the necessary supplies. In my brilliance, while my two friends brought water, a flare gun, cell phone and tinder sticks... My necessity was copious amounts of "Beef Jerky" and Mountain Dew. Suffice to say I was dying of thirst after we got about half way up the mountain. Luckily my two good buddies brought extra water, foreseeing my inability to plan for an outdoor adventure. We climber the face of that mountain and it took about half a day to reach it's summit, but when we did... man oh man! The most spectacular view of Las Vegas you could ever imagine. We spent two hours at the top talking about life, girls, our hopes and dreams. We then began to descend. Being inexperienced climber we spent most of our remaining day sliding down the mountain on our bottoms, thus tearing apart are worn blue jeans. By the time we just reached the bottom the sun was beginning to set. We later found out that if we had asked the older brother of one friend, he would of told us about a trail that set’s roughly behind the mountain and brings you up to almost the exact same place we had reached by climbing the face of the mountain (with no climbing gear either). But, I wouldn't have traded our mistake for the easy way for all the riches in the world. Our climb that day remains one of my very most cherished memories.

John Robison