“Did you make it?” I asked.

“No,” the teenager responded. “We were, like, a hundred feet from the top before things got too crazy.”

“Well, good call. Better to be safe, of course.” I smiled comfortingly and allowed the four hikers to pass by. They looked relieved to be halfway down the mountain, though obviously still infused with adrenaline after looking over their shoulders for lightning for the last twenty minutes. A thunderclap echoed between the faces of Mount Evans and Mount Spaulding, as if to reaffirm the wisdom of their decision. I stared at their retreating backs for a moment, then turned and continued up the ridgeline, towards the storm.