He looked over the edge at the distance they had already climbed and shook his head. By noon, they had peeled out of their sweatshirts and tied the sleeves around their hips. They stopped for a water break. The ten, by now, were spread along a half mile of the trail like goats in a terraced-rock zoo exhibit. One young man a few dozen feet above Edward had enough energy to beat his chest and let loose a Tarzan cry of dominance. Then he grinned foolishly and waved.

"Me Jane, him nuts," Betsy commented.

Their good cheer continued as they stood at Union Point and looked down across the vallev, leaning on the iron railings. The sky was only slightly smoky, and the air was warming as they ascended. "We could stop here," Betsy suggested. "The view's pretty good."

"Onward." Edward put on a valiant face and pointed to the goal. "One more heavy climb."

By one o'clock they had hiked over a seemingly endless series of switchbacks up the bare granite slope, stopping briefly to examine the manzanita growth. They then followed a much more reasonable, comparatively level trail to Glacier Point.

Minelli and his companion Inez had already pitched tents in the woods behind the asphalt paths leading up to the point's railed terraces. They waved at Edward and Betsy and motioned for them to come over and share their picnic lunch.

"We're going to take in the view," Edward called to them. "We'll be with you in a little bit."

Leaning on the rail of the lowest terrace, they surveyed the valley from end to end, and the mountains beyond. Birdsong punctuated the steady whisper of the breezes.

"It is so peaceful," Betsy said. "You'd think nothing could ever happen here ..."

Edward tried to picture his father, standing by the railing more than two decades ago, waving his hands, clowning as his mother snapped his picture with a Polaroid camera. They had driven up to the point that time. An hour later, they had been on their way home, ending the last happy time of his childhood. The last time, as a child, he had felt he could have been happy.

He touched Betsy's arm and smiled at her. "Best view in the world," he said.

"Grandstand seat," Betsy agreed, shading her eyes against the high bright sun. They stood near the edge for several minutes, arms around each other, then turned and walked back to the tents to join Minelli and Inez.

The afternoon progressed slowly, leisurely. Minelli had bought a stick of dry salami in the store, and two loaves of bread; Inez had somehow come up with a large wedge of Cheddar cheese. "We had a whole wheel a few days ago," she said. "Don't ask how we got it." Her smile was tough and childish and sweet all at once.