The Bazuft is a river in the Zagros Mountains of Iran. It is the final river that for many centuries each spring the nomadic Bakhtiari had to cross in moving their sheep from low-lying winter pastures to high, soon-to-be-lush summer pastures. When the old of the tribe could not cross the Bazuft they were left behind.Reaching the Bazuft is about how I, Ned Webb, came to my Bazuft.For 21 years, starting at age 51, I tried to keep up with my son Tim and his best friend Lonny (Zo) Granston on their hikes and climbs in the mountains of the western U.S. and Canada - and in the deserts of Utah and Arizona.In that time we hiked the John Muir trail from Yosemite to Whitney; climbed mountains such as Gannett, Granite and Rainier; spent a night on a ledge above Boston Glacier when a one-day planned climb of Forbidden Peak turned into two; went to the Maze in search of a solstice snake; hiked (and swam) slot canyons such as Little Death Hollow, Baptist Wash and the Black Hole - and failed in an attempt to climb Mt. Sir Donald in Canada.Reaching the Bazuft is about adventures and misadventures, about successes and failures. About how, for example, we climbed Crestone Needle - but failed on Crestone Peak; about how Tim and Lonny did well in a Spokane half Iron Man triathlon that I failed to complete because I emerged from the swim hypothermic; about our satisfaction at finishing, essentially together, a 100-mile run. A few times when tempers were short we were testy with each other, but always, always, soon after something was done a feeling of sharing came over us and we were laughing about what happened, no matter how sharp the barbs or how trying the task. Tim and Lonny were great friends, always kidding each other, and sometimes in a tense situation, from the other side of a rock or from above or below on a rope, a wry comment would come that would make me want to laugh (if I dared breathe).Though they were 23 years younger than me, Tim and Lonny treated me as an equal, even if I didn't deserve to be. Oh, I was able to keep up pretty well for a few years, but, as they had from the beginning, when I began to lag they treated me kindly and helped me in places I needed help. Reaching the Bazuft is not simply about "doing." It is perhaps even more about how working together to achieve goals, say get to the top of a mountain, about how sharing long hard days on a trail and crawling into a small tent together when cold, wet, hungry and tired can pull people closer together, strengthen friendships and form bonds that endure.The book has three maps and 126 pictures.