Before long, the sun was quickly dropping as I looked for one last ride. The Bastille area had been providing most of the afternoon’s fun, including a quick solo of Sunset Boulevard, so it only made sense to finish the day there. Sitting on the road, I wandered over to the opening moves of Rain, and then traversed left to a chalked-up 5.8 pitch that ended on a pillar. I should have down-climbed from there, but wanted to see the sunset from the summit and chose to continue on. An off-width flare full of guano pushed the stickiness of the rubber on my shoes, while diverting right stressed the tendons with overhanging unchalked crimps with a straight shot to the ground, followed by the spicy off-width/lie-back crux of the West Buttress and culminating with the best seat in the house as I watched the final rays of the day splash golden hues on various walls and felt the comfortable ache of a mile worth of climbing. It would take a lifetime to understand these walls, but touching the same holds those legends touched brought a warm smile in need of a return trip.