
We had a 2am wake-up time, but nobody needed the alarm. At 10,000 feet, the winds were blasting our tents, keeping us from any good nights sleep. Our tents faced the looming mountain in front of us littered with little dots of lights already ascending. It was our turn to trek onwards and upwards… 7,000 feet upwards.






Every step was meticulous and purposeful. I placed my foot carefully into a snowy footprint that kindly already made a path for me. With 7,000 feet to go from Helen Lake, I needed all the help I could get. It wasn’t until after we reached the Red Banks, 3 hours into our middle-of-the-night ascent, did I realize how much more climbing we had. We were only halfway there.
The sky was cotton candy pink when the sun slowly rose behind Mount Shasta. When we turned around and looked back down into the valley, there was a perfect shadow of the snowy mountain.
The 2nd to final climb was called Misery Hill. It is aptly named. Every step felt like I was moving inches. We silently trudged along dragging one foot in front of the other, letting the wind blast us in the face.




The ice fields was flat-land and nicely carved out for us. We were in the home stretch. Until we saw the little ants on top of the summit… The final climb. There were a lot of times when I was vocally angry at Sachin for talking us into this. But between the jest and suffering banter, I truly believed I was going to quit. But there was something special about suffering together.
To help me forget the last climb, I counted 20 steps, then another 20 steps, then another and another. It’s funny how reaching the summit wiped away all the misery of the last 6 hours. We hugged, and even howled from the top of the world. We did it. We bagged our first 14’er.






