Back in early December after two solid weeks of cold and snow in Colorado, I yearned to get down to the barbaric southlands, to the dusty prickly desert along the Mexican border, to the home of the winter sun. "Hey Brian," I said, "we need a trip south and go rock climbing. Get out of this murk."

I was thinking the same thing," he said readily. "In fact, why don't we go down to Arizona and you can take me to all those secret places you know about?" So the plan was hatched and two days later we wheeled south on Interstate 25 like migratory birds.