Tree curling heat occasionally ravages the land; nature is cycles and circles. Hiking in land recently burned by wildfire is brutal. Gone is the canopy which shades you from the blaring summer sun. The remnant spires of trees, some still glistening black and others bleached white, sway ominously above. Gone is the understory which holds the ground in place. Loose soil and ash makes hiking uphill difficult as you kick up a dust cloud with each step. Fallen trees crisscross the trail, obstacles to hop over or crouch under. The wind blowing through the scorched landscape whistles a distant roar like a crowd in an open air arena. The hair rises on your neck at the uncannily human noise, eerie on a deserted trail. By the end you are invariably sunburned and covered in ash.