Switchbacks ascend from Purple Lake to the pass just before Lake Virginia. About a third of the way up, Phil trips over a rock diverter in the middle of the trail and lands on all fours to the side. I begin chanting "Get up, move it! move it! move it!" in the spirit of 'Sergeant Carter and Gomer'. Phil dutifully obeys, rising from the dirt sporting two dusty skinned knees and complaining about a sore left shoulder. A few more such tribulations and I will have made a man out of him, I think to myself.