This one was the do-over, our second attempt to reach the summit of Mount Whitney in one very long day.
On the previous attempt, my son Drew and I got close enough to see the summit, a little more than a mile away, but were forced to turn around when a sudden thunderstorm rolled in and smothered the peak.
Three years later, we were at it again, this time joined by Laurel, my oldest daughter. Having learned a tough lesson about timing, we started our hike earlier. It was just after 2:30am when we headed out under the illumination of our headlamps.
The long distance and a looming deadline require the early start. Because the peak is the highest in the continental United States and requires no technical climbing to summit, it is exceedingly popular among would-be peak baggers. A lottery system keeps crowds manageable. If you're lucky enough to snag a coveted day permit, you have 24 hours to complete the 22-mile roundtrip and 6,000 feet of climbing.
Powered by much younger legs and lungs, the kids quickly pulled away, leaving me alone in my cone of white light. We reconnected periodically to check-in, but then resumed our respective paces. I savored the solitude, pausing to stare at the sky dotted with thousands and thousands of stars. And, a while later, the changing hues of the eastern horizon as the sun crept over the distant White Mountains.
Above the tree line, my pace slowed significantly. The elevation required frequent stops so I could catch my breath in the oxygen-depleted air.
We rendezvoused at Trail Camp, just over 6 miles from Whitney Portal. It's a popular place to replenish water and eat before tackling the famed 99 switchbacks.
The sun was up and the sky was clear - a heartening sign - as we picked our way along this most tedious section of the trail. We finally hit Trail Crest after two hours of steady climbing.
Reaching this point feels like such an accomplishment. At 13,600 feet, it is considered the highest trail pass in the US and offers stunning views of the Owens Valley to the east and Sequoia National Park to the west. But the moment of triumph is temporary.
The summit is still two challenging miles away. Getting there requires gaining another 900 feet of elevation while picking your way around and over boulders on already-weary legs.
Laurel, who had struggled earlier on the switchbacks, caught summit fever. She and Drew charged ahead, reaching the stone hut atop the peak at least 30 minutes before me.
Finally, I made it too, my exhaustion giving way to a wave of emotions. Relief. Elation. Thankfulness. I wrapped both kids in a hug and told them how proud I was of what they had done. It had taken nearly 11 hours, but now, we stood together on top of Mount Whitney.
The rest, as they say, is all downhill. But that doesn't mean it's any easier. Owing to my deliberate footsteps on the uneven terrain, my descent was no faster than my climb. And an afternoon storm brought falling temperatures and steady hail.
We stopped again at Trail Camp to top off on water and gobble down more food. Looking at my watch, I knew we would finish well after dark. But there was only one thing to do - keep putting one foot in front of the other and get down the mountain.
We arrived back where we started at 11:42pm, with 18 minutes remaining on our one-day permit. The last mile was the hardest. It's the closest I've ever come to falling asleep standing up.
Not finishing the first time was bitter. But this one was all the sweeter since the three of us did it together.
Eric Harnish lives in Castaic.

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