Reflections on feats of extraordinary daring and/or recklessness, depending on one's point of view. Schultheis (The Hidden West, 1983) leads off with his own near-death. While climbing alone in the Rockies, he had a severe fall; landing seriously injured on a narrow ledge, he had to climb down the rest of the mountain and then hike back into town. During this ordeal, he suddenly found himself possessed of tremendous agility and strength: ""the person I became. . . was the best possible version of myself, the person I should have been throughout my life. No regrets, no hesitations; there were no false moves left in me."" Since then, Schultheis has sought to duplicate that feeling through other solo climbs and expeditions (in Nepal, in Mexico), through discussions with mystics, through some scientific inquiry--all of which is haphazardly reported here. The answer? ""Play the game by your lonesome. On short rations, as hard as you can."" Like Glin Bennet's Beyound Endurance (1983), idiosyncratic as a study of superhuman accomplishment--and like all too many muzzy others as a chronicle of self-transcendence.