Winter is the time of solitude when the desert hills and distant mountains call the hunter forth to shed his social shackles for a time. It is the season to fulfill the longing for the wild and high, to get nigh the earth, God, and self; to be sheltered alone by the dome of the sky. It does not take much—a backpack, forty pounds of gear, a tough body, tenacious desire, and a big bunch of mountains, such as the Mazatzals.