The summary is, this trip is long and hard.

We got up around 12:30 am to get prepped - we were staying at a friend's place and moving out that day, so we had to do a bit of cleaning before enjoying a big breakfast of potatoes, eggplant, onions, and ground beef. We hit the road around 1:45 am, swung by the dojo to see if anyone was planning on joining us, and scrambled to a 24-hour convenience store at the last minute to buy some potato chips we had forgotten.

Leaving Boulder finally around 2:15 am, we rolled in to the East Longs trailhead at 3:00 am. Amazingly, there were several other cars arriving at that time, and the parking lot was full. We scrambled to find a parking space and compete with the other 10 or 15 hikers prepping for their climb. It was about 40 degrees there, at 9400 feet. I tried to send a text message to update my Facebook status - the phone said it had 4 bars of service, but then when I hit send on the message, it would drop to zero bars, fail the message, and then go back to 4 bars. After a few maddening retries, I gave up.

I conducted some Buddhist rituals for purification and protection, hit the bathroom, and then signed in at the register with Shannon. Mary was in the car, sleeping, with the intent to wake up later and climb partway, meeting us on our return trip.

We officially started the hike at 3:15 am, with about 5 other people. I wondered if we'd be in a crowd the whole way up - turned out that different hiking paces and the enormous space of the mountain let folks spread out for most it, although we saw people every 10 minutes. I was periodically trying to take a moment to do mantras, and it was sometimes hard to time it for privacy.

There was plenty of moonlight to see, so we didn't have any artificial lights on, which I really enjoy in the wilderness. We were the only people, apparently, to realize that the artificial lights were unnecessary and annoying, and so we were constantly blinded by other's headlamps and flashlights. When alone, we enjoyed the quiet darkness of the Goblin Forest at 10,000 feet.

We stopped every half-mile to drink water, take photos, rest, and say a couple more mantras. Each full mile I also cached water for the trip back by picking a memorable rock and burying a water bottle under it This helped my 30-lb pack get lighter, though it didn't feel like it as we went up and up.

The Goblin Forest gave way to the treeline at around 11,000 feet. The first wisps of light were starting to illuminate the sky - it was around 4:45 am. We were making a comfortable pace, covering 2 miles and 1500 vertical feet in 90 minutes. The goal was to avoid getting soaked in sweat because I knew it would be cold up top, and getting there with wet clothing and an exhausted body was what turned me around at the Boulderfield last summer.

We trekked up the valley that leads toward Chasm Lake, caching water bottles in rock cairns, and watching the dawn break fabulously over a 10,000 foot cloud sea. The views were stunning, but we had to keep moving or we got cold. It had dropped into the mid-30s by now, and there was a light breeze.

We chatted with others on the trail occasionally - we never saw any of them again. I think many turned back before the summit. Maybe others passed us by in the confusion of high altitude.

Just before the Boulderfield, at around 12,000 feet, the wind really picked up. It was steadily blowing at 20 mph, and gusting up to 40 or 50 mph, blowing sand in the eyes. It was still in the 30s, so that was rough. At least the sun was up now, providing a little bit of warmth when we could take shelter. We had jackets, hats, and gloves - others were in shorts and T-shirts and were starting to re-think their "summer hike".

We battled the wind up to the Boulderfield at 12,800 feet. The last mile across the Boulderfield was constant wind in the face. The sun finally did its job and warmed us back up to maybe 40 degrees. Still, we were in good spirits. The views were stunning, the space vast, and we weren't experiencing any altitude sickness or hypothermia. I had also cached or drank two-thirds of my water, so my pack was lighter, and my mantra practice was going well up the mountain. I conducted the Kuji Kiri nine-cut grid facing the enormity of the Diamond (the rock climbing wall front face of the summit) and I felt bold.

We discovered that the outhouses at the Boulderfield, though a welcome luxury complete with toilet paper, do not block the wind, so the necessarily exposed skin in the 40-degree wind was problematic. The latches were also broken, so while one hand attended to the purpose, the other hand held the door shut. My hands went numb for the first time.

The wind was now a steady 40 mph, which was wearing us down a bit. We sat behind a rock to hide from it and I spent some time in meditation, connecting to this environment and the enormous task ahead, trying to make a sacred experience out of it and not just a long difficult trudge.

I packed my lighter summit pack and cached my main pack. We set out from the Boulderfield at 8:15 am - toward the later side of acceptable, but still a reasonable time to go. I wouldn't have wanted to go any earlier anyway because we needed what feeble warmth the sun was providing.

We began the climb to the famous Keyhole, a strangely shaped hole in the rock at the top of the wall surrounding the Boulderfield. The trail stops at the Boulderfield - the ascent to the Keyhole is just boulders piled on top of each other, so you are rock-hopping uphill from 12,800 feet to around 13,200 feet. It's exhausting and requires care, so we would hop three or four rocks, rest, hop a few more, rest... and so on and so on. It took I think 45 minutes to cross that section alone, and the wind just got worse as went. Some people had already reached the Keyhole and decided to turn back, warning us that the wind was ridiculous... (to be continued)