AS WE REACHED THE TRAILHEAD to the valley, I arrived at a conclusion that I’d tried to avoid for weeks: this trip had been a failure. A search for the Übermensch had become a family affair—brimming with tender moments, routine tasks, and playdates. The attempt to be free, to retrace a path that I’d taken in my youth, had been cut short by my family obligations, and the journey had slowly morphed into a holiday taken in honor of Nietzsche’s memory rather than anything genuinely, authentically Nietzschean.
