Our climb began shortly after Alaska's summer sun dipped below the horizon, upward and onward until the trees retreated into dirt turned to ice and stone. Perched in wait, we had entered the realm of the Goat King. He walked delicately past us, close enough to touch, the Prince trailing behind. Just as the sun began to burn the dense fog clinging to the glacier beneath us, the King turned and acknowledged our presence in his domain with a subtle dip of his mighty horns. We were welcome here.