As I sat in the car heading east towards the Sierra Nevada and Lake Tahoe, my mind was awash in the emotions of what this hike was going to mean to me.  How I cursed the memory of the whole thing when I said to myself on the summit in 2015 I would never set foot on this mountain again because of the madness which was enveloping my life that year.  I thought about the promise I made to the Spirits and Guardians of the mountain on my descent just as the trailhead came into view and the day of hell was ending.  I promise you that if my father survives the five-year mark, I will be back and I will pay you the proper homage due.  I will not curse you for my own bad decisions and my ill preparedness.  I will not brag about concurring you, as no man will ever conquer a mountain.  He simply is able to summit that day.  I will bring love, light and healing peace if I am ever to come back here.

Those thoughts echoed through my head.  The fact that my passenger seat was empty was unnerving.  None of my hiking family were there.  No Jesse, no Suny, no JB, no Aaron.  This wasn’t about enjoying the wonder of a group hike and the memories we were to create.  This was about me facing personal demons.  This was about me and this mountain.  “The last word always belongs to the mountain.”  Yes Anatoli, yes it does. 

The memories of sleep were gone as my Subaru sped towards the Mt. Tallac trailhead before the light of dawn tamed the eastern sky.  As I made my way down the grade from Echo Summit into the Tahoe Basin, I could barely make out the towering peak of Mt. Tallac to the west.  Stars hung in the sky and I opened my sunroof to feel the cool and calm Sierra Nevada night.  Turning onto the Emerald Bay Highway (which is only a two lane road) I began to feel the emotions within me that so often haunt me. 

Mike, you do remember the last time you were here, don’t you?  Do you need a reminder?  The darkness that sunk in as you climbed the Cathedral Bowl.  The conversation on the saddle about your Dad not wanting to live and go through chemo?  You screaming into the face of the wind and embarrassing yourself as you vomited after it?  Failure.  Nothing.  Remember?

I reached up and stuck my arm out of the sunroof and felt the night air.  Not today.  Today will be different.  I thought to myself with a grin.  Today, the narrative changes.  Today I heal.  Today is about me and this mountain coming to terms.  Passing by familiar landmarks as my car made the left turn toward the road leading to the trailhead.  Tai Shan by Rush came onto my speakers in the car and my mood shifted.  I began singing softly.  High on the sacred mountain, up the seven thousand steps, in the golden light of autumn, there was magic in the air, clouds surrounded the summit, the wind blew strong and cold, among the silent temples, and the writings carved in gold…  Yes.  This mountain is like all others to me.  A silent temple.  Sacred.  Shrouded in healing energy.  A monument of millions of years and eons of energy.  A place I come to heal at and not one to fear.

The parking lot at the trailhead is eerily silent.  Nothing is moving, nothing is active.  I put my pack together and pull the fleece over my head and switch on my headlamp.  Trekking poles get adjusted as I begin to make my way to the trailhead.  The sandy soil under foot feels comfortable.  The beam of light from my headlamp scans around the forest as the trail begins its steady ascent.  No bears.  No nothing.  I sigh with a little disappointment.  I am here today to honor this mountain and to humbly ask the Spirits and Guardians who protect it to allow safe passage to me and to all other hikers out here today.  Bless us all with love, light and safety as we ascend and descend.  Om Mani Padme Hum.  My hiking prayer I have been saying for quite some time now is spoken aloud for anything around to hear.  I normally whisper this to myself but today, I avow it to whatever is within earshot.

The trail levels out as Fallen Leaf lake begins to be subtly illuminated by the faint traces of dawn.  I pause and snap a few photos of the warm and inviting light and energy to the east.  I smile and feel the solace and happiness associated with this light.  I feel so good this morning.  So good in fact, that I am not listening to music yet, but rather, just enjoying the sound of my boots on the ground and to the sound of the forest beginning to stir.  The views of Fallen Leaf Lake are spectacular in the early morning.  I can’t help but continue looking all around and smile. 

As the views of Fallen Leaf Lake begin to fade away, the trail begins to gradually ascend once again and my legs are feeling as strong as they have been in years.  The hours on the stairclimber are really paying off!  I think to myself as I round a corner and am greeted by the surprised shriek of two young ladies having a trailside rest and snack.  I apologize for startling them and they laugh at the stealthy nature and speed at which I came upon them.  I stopped and wished them a safe climb and return and then continued on.  Shortly after passing them, I came upon Floating Island Lake.  I took a small spur trail to the lakes edge to snap a few more photos.  The reflection on the water of the trees surrounding the water was almost mirror like.  Again, more smiles.  I continue back on the trail as I hear the two young ladies approaching from behind me. 

Half mile to go before Cathedral Lake and I want to get there in under an hour.  I want this fleece off.  It’s getting too hot.  Pushing my body for the next 15 minutes as hard as I can, I crest a small ridgeline and can see the shores of Cathedral Lake on my left.  I go to the same downed Cedar I slept on five years ago and took my pack off.  Shedding my fleece and stuffing it into the bottom of my pack, I feel the instant relief from the heat.  My Dri-Fit shirt is already soaked from the perspiration, but I’m way better hydrated this time around.  Five years ago, you were a mess.  You were hungover, you weren’t on the trail until 9 am and you were way out of shape.  I took a look around and saw no other human nearby.  I reorganized my pack, shouldered it, locked in my camera onto its resting place on my right shoulder and continued the trek upwards. 

The climb from Cathedral Lake to the summit gains about 2,500 feet over 2.3 miles.  I worried a little because of the memories harbored in my head from 2015.  Steadily ascending and feeling wonderful, I stopped every once in a while to shoot a few shots of the expansive Tahoe Basin opening up below.  The sun had crested the horizon and was brightening the day as the chunks of talus became larger and sharper.  Switchbacking steadily up the face of the Cathedral Bowl, I couldn’t help but smile.  The energy I was feeling was radiant, full of light and bursting with positivity.  This.  This is why I hike and climb mountains.  This feeling right now.  Nothing else matters.  This is when I feel my happiest. 

I’m climbing quickly and soon find myself on the saddle at the top of Cathedral Bowl.  I scan the talus for the stake that shows the direction to the summit (even though I know the way) and see it is gone.  I lift my arms ups and let out a long WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  It feels good to hear the positive energy in my voice and feel the difference in the climbs from 5 years ago.    My spirit is soaring as stand 8,500 feet above the ocean and 2,300 feet about the sparkling waters of Lake Tahoe.  I feel tears coming to my eyes as I look around and see no one and nothing moving. 

Heading up the trail towards the summit, there is roughly 1.5 miles from the saddle to the summit and my heart is already aching to be on it.  I wonder to myself if there will be any crowds there or if I will be able to enjoy a bit of solitude.  I grab my ear buds and push them into my ears.  I know this altitude will push me a bit.  Flatlander.  I hear the voice in my head say.  That’s what people up hear call others who don’t live at altitude.  Maybe I am a “flatlander”, but I sure as hell feel great today.  The music pumps additional life into my soul as I look to the west and see the spires of the Crystal Range reaching into the sky.  I smile and enjoy the fact that I only have a few more of them to climb before I can say I have bagged each one.  The tallest, Pyramid Peak, is still one of the hardest climbs I’ve made, mostly because of the route chosen and the snow and ice ascended to reach it. 

The trail melts away as my breath becomes shorter and I inch closer to the summit.  Coming up to less than a quarter mile away, I run into a group of backpackers on their way down.  We exchange pleasantries and they explain they were up on the summit for dawn.  I say that I envy them and then wish them well for their descent.  They let me know I will have it to myself and I smile.  This is perfect.  That is exactly what I was hoping for.

Continuing on past the gnarled old Western Whiteback Pines and talus on the ground, I can see the summit a few hundred yards ahead.  The trail becomes a mix of talus and scree as the ascent to the summit begins.  As I round a corner a friendly chipmunk comes out to greet me and I oblige the little one in a few photographs.  Locking the camera back into my shoulder harness, I take a glance at the summit and take a step.  The familiar sound of Anugama’s Healing Earth begins to play in my ears.  My eyes well up just as they did in the final 500 yards on Mount Whitney.  I know you are with me I whisper.  I know you have guided me and calmed my heart.  Thank you.  I speak audibly, but no one is around.  I talk to my Angel and Guide often.  I feel them in my head and heart every day.  The sounds of the shakuhaji flute and earth drums echo their healing vibrations in my soul.  Tears seep out of the corners of my eyes and streak down my face as I begin the traverse across the peak.  I look at the sheer thousand foot drop to my right and wonder what it would be like to fly off of that like a bird while riding the thermals and seeing everything.

The music continues to play as I reach the tallest point on the summit.  Pack on, mouth agape, I look to the east and smile.  Sending my love, light and healing peace out to all sentient beings I sit down to simply “be”.  I offer my thanks to the Spirits and Guardians of this sacred summit for the passage here.  I ask their blessing for a safe descent.  I take a few photos and then close my eyes.  Dad.  Dad, I hope you are listening and feeling this energy.  5 years ago you wanted to die.  You didn’t want to fight.  It was then I made a promise that if you survived for five years (an eternity and impossibility for someone of your age and diagnosis) I would climb this sacred mountain and make peace with it.  Here I am.  Here we are.  I love you.  I am proud of your fight.  Namaste, Dad.  May you be full of light and peace.

I sit for a few more minutes in silence before noticing a man with a child carrying pack on heading up to the summit.  As he arrives, we wish each other good day and exchange a few words.  His daughter is 10 months old and this is her first summit.  I smile and look back to the sweeping view of Desolation Wilderness.  I feel alive.  I make a few videos of a cheeky chipmunk to share and smile as wide as my face will allow.  I feel at peace.  My energy is soaring and my spirit is healed of the bad memories of the last climb here.  I think to myself about climbing it again and hope it will bring the same wonder and happiness.  Closing another chapter of dark memories spurred on by my depression, I think about the book I continue to write and know that another summit, is another win for my heart and head in this internal fight.  Gone are the negative voices calling me stupid, fat and unworthy of being called a hiker or mountaineer.  Gone are the images of failure and sadness.  Maybe for only the moment, but I know that this summit means something.  Maybe not the meaning Mount Whitney did and does, but it showed me once again, I can fight the darkness.  The chasm of negativity which invades my soul and destroys happiness.

Returning the car after the descent, I notice the entire trip was 5 hours and 34 minutes.  Wow…  I can’t believe it was that fast.  9 miles and 3,500 feet up and then back down.  I even spent 30 minutes on the top!  I was 2 hours faster this time and I’m now 5 years older.  The awareness of how quickly I finished sinks in.  The training, nights in the gym and focus on becoming healthier make me smile again.  I look to the summit once more and thank the Spirits and Guardians.  Om Mani Padme Hum.  I conclude my thoughts.  Opening a cold sparkling water and taking a long drink.  I love this mountain. 

We all must make peace with residual darkness within us.  We must all deal with the negative emotions in order to grow and allow our souls to reach new heights.  I wish you all love, light and healing peace in each of your journeys.  May the radiant light of the universe, your Angel, you Guides and your soul lead you to where you belong.  May you find peace and happiness in every moment.  May you find love and passion in your life.

Namaste, friends.

“Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time.”