As Ryan and I drive towards Castle Valley, Ryan plucks a string or two on his mandolin then skillfully picks his way through the song my iPod deemed appropriate for the moment: the Last of the Mohicans movie theme.

Nic, who loves the movie, is ahead of us making a beeline for the brewery and is oblivious to our impromptu concert and laughter. We decide not to relay the experience just yet. Ryan will surprise Nic with a rendition at some point in the remaining hours of the trip.

A blanket of clouds diffuses the moonlight and provides dramatic backlighting for Castleton Tower. Ryan suggests we take the mandolin, but doesn’t as much as hint at a possible set list. Nic finds that the mandolin case nestles perfectly into his haul bag. Our amusement and the full moon join forces to ensure we are up with the sun, puffy-eyed and eager.

“Little Mando” enjoys a casual piggyback up the first two pitches of the Kor-Ingalls on Nic’s back. LM gets pulled, hand-over-hand, past the crux chimney/off-width pitch so as to keep from getting stuck.

After another quick lap on Nic’s back he is safely in the summit bivy ring, waiting patiently as Ryan cleans the final pitch.

The broad summit platform is ours alone for an hour.

As Nic leans over the edge to inspect the exposure to the north, Ryan starts picking. We expect him to play some country favorites or improvised tunes.

To Nic’s surprise, the first song Ryan picks is The Last of the Mohicans theme.

Nic laughs and hoots from the other end of the summit platform. We all laugh as the wind carries the tune carried out into the desert. I wonder if the party on the Rectory can make out any of the notes.

Ryan picks and strums his way skillfully through the song, then transitions into old Irish tunes and bluegrass pieces, his hands still chalked from the climb.

We rap the route with the sun low in the sky, bringing to a close mine and Ryan’s first - and Nic’s third - trip to the desert.

Once in the car, Ryan’s playlist takes a turn as it leads us out of the valley - the towers disappearing into the dusk behind us. The seven-hour drive home affords our wandering minds ample time to play back the images from the day, and to occasionally drop a hint of the next adventure to come.

When photographer and writer Dan Long isn’t documenting his climbing adventures, he’s managing the production of the locally-produced world renown climbing journal, Alpinist. He’s also quite the bluegrass dancer.