After enduring a steeper-than-expected hike with nary a breeze to keep us cool, a relentless onslaught of mosquitoes striped like tigers with appetites to match, and less than an hour of sleep for me the night before, we crested Potato Butte in anticipation of a glorious view of Mt. Jefferson. While the view certainly didn't disappoint, I decided to traverse the butte to take a gander at Mt. Hood, and upon laying eyes on the evolving cloudscape above her, I knew Jefferson would have to take a backseat to her northern sister on this evening. We watched in silent awe (save for the clicking of camera shutters, the frenetic slaps of our hands in a futile revolt against the vampire bugs, and a few choice four-letter words) as the sinking sun bathed the clouds in a warm amber glow before transitioning to some mesmerizing shades of rose.