Our legs were well beyond worn as we came to a dead end. It was 10pm and we were lost. Our day started at 5am and, other than getting lost twice, it was one of the best days in the mountains I have ever had.
I had been wanting to get up to the cirque all summer and for some reason hadn't been able to pull it off. Finally, a weekend opened and the weather seemed to be on our side. We worried that it would be too cold and there might be ice on the route, but we went for it anyway. The sunrise brought with it renewed energy. As we gained the ridge the towering cliffs of the cirque came in to view. It was a sight that I will never forget.
The route was in the shade as we were approaching the cirque. We racked up and headed for the base of the climb. We got there right as the sun hit. We started up the route and found the climbing to be excellent and the temperature to be perfect. Our legs and calves were tired. We would have to find rests here and there when our calves would cramp up.
The last pitch was my lead. As I pulled the final moves to the summit, I peaked over and the rest of the Wasatch was there to greet me. I waited for Eric before standing on the summit and then we celebrated. I can't describe what there is on a summit, but there is always something to be found. This summit held something Eric and I both were looking for.
The misery of the trip down the mountain dimmed the joy of the summit, but we eventually found our way home. The trip was a success and after the sore muscles faded away so did the memory of the misery we found on the descent, all that was left was the memory of the summit.
