We pushed on. By now, a few people had met us coming back, saying, “Don’t go. It’s too windy.” Now we met a ranger on the edge of the insane cliff called the Narrows. She was sitting down and saying she wasn’t going on. A family member was with her trying to convince her to proceed, and she was saying no way.

We chatted for a few moments about the weather. We cautiously proceeded while she continued discussing it with her climbing companion. At last, we reached the end of the Narrows to witness the Homestretch, a near-vertical crack running up the last 200 feet to the summit. We had been exposed to the icy wind for over 3 hours now, and above 13,000 feet for the last 2 hours. We could see the summit and the rest of the route clearly from where we sat, but I noticed that my whole body had started shaking from the combination of exhaustion, adrenaline, and hypothermia. My hands quivered and burned intensely, coming back from the numbness of mild frostbite even through my gloves, and I felt dizzy. Shannon looked at me, looked at the wall, and shook her head.

I gave her the thumbs up to indicate my agreement. We had climbed Longs Peak. We were done. I checked the altitude meter – 14,050 feet. I took a couple of photos, and we started the way back… through the Narrows and turbine-rock, to the top of the Trough. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief to be headed toward lower elevations while I was still intact.

The chokestone at the top of the Trough posed a problem. Down-climbing is a little more awkward than climbing up, and found myself in an awkward spot clinging to the side of the cliff face, unable to go forward or back. I paused to consider my predicament, and another climber called out to me. “Are you stuck?”

I couldn’t believe it – I haven’t been stuck climbing something since I was a little kid. But, I was indeed stuck. “Yeah,” I called out. He climbed partway up and made a brace with his body so I could use him to transition to another ledge. I made it off the stone and marveled at how much I was losing my faculties. My hands had become claws, my balance was questionable, and I was having trouble seeing clearly.

We scampered down the Trough, trying not to create rockslides and dodging other people’s rock slides. We ground across the Ledges, still exposed to the intense wind, and by the time we passed back over the roaring 70 mph lip of the Keyhole, everything in our bodies hurt.

Finally, descending the wall that leads to the Keyhole, I started to regain some intelligence again. My hands thawed out, my brain thawed out, and it became evident that we were going to make it back. I reflected on how I had experienced everything I came for – the intensity, vastness, and power of a big mountain. I just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.

Safely back at the Boulderfield, we re-gathered cached gear and took stock. We were still 6 miles from the car, and very tired. Shannon wanted to push hard to the car before her legs stiffened up – I wanted to continue my meditation practice with the mantras I had intended earlier. We agreed to separate – the way down was clear blue skies, mellow wind by comparison, and easy navigation. She set off for the car, and I spent about 30 minutes in meditation and recitation.

I started the long hike back. As I went, I recited mantras, stopped for photos of chipmunks, pika, and marmots, and retrieved the water bottles I cached on the way up. It was fun, and I tried to enjoy the scenery and the game of finding the water bottles even though my legs and back were screaming at me.

At least I wasn’t cold anymore. The sun continued to warm the day, and as I dropped below the last snowfields, it got up into the 60s. I put my gloves, hat, and jacket away and kept going.

At 11,000 feet, I found Mary enjoying the sunny day on a big rock. It felt so good to see her! She was happy and healthy, and let me know Shannon had passed by 20 minutes prior. We set off down the mountain as I told my story and she shared hers – a much more graceful and relaxed account of a day on the mountain. While I was struggling to stay alive, she was singing, napping, and meandering through the high hills. She sat by waterfalls, ate apricots, and did a crossword puzzle. We decided that she should do a television show on how to enjoy yourself in nature, as opposed to trying to conquer it. “Woman in the Wild” – like The Crocodile Hunter meets Martha Stewart.

I reflected on the enormous pain and risk of the climb and wondered why we glorify these things. It seems like our culture is obsessed with the extremes, but it’s clear that the extremes are no fun. Of course, it’s possible to overcome the extremes with enough planning, preparation, practice, conditioning, focused intention, divine intervention… but why do it for mere recreation or bragging rights? The folks on TV do it for a paycheck. I did this climb to see what was there and to push myself to the limits of my outdoors skills. I accomplished my goals. I reminded myself that I wouldn’t need to do that again.

And how could I recommend it to others? Such an extreme exertion and danger makes no sense without a very compelling sacred mission. I can hardly justify my own journey, except that it brought me to a transformative recognition of how I relate to risk, work, and identity.

I completed my mantra recitations with the Dedication of Merit, a mantra whereby one states that any benefit created by this work is for the purpose of making the world a better place. No other purpose is acceptable. Did I make the world a better place by climbing Longs Peak? I’m a little clearer, a little cleaner, more satisfied and aware of my place in the world. I appreciate comfort and intelligence more now. I’m a little more focused on what I need to do. May all of those attributes be put into service of a greater good.