San Gorgonio Mountain. Old Greyback. The last Six – Pack of Peaks Challenge. Perhaps the most interesting lesson I will take away from this hike were the solo hikes of this challenge. Everyone knows or has heard of those talking points. From an experienced hiker giving an intense, passionate self -discovery discussion in-person or a random short video we have found on social media highlighting what solo hiking has to offer. Now, let me clarify something. There was enjoyment hiking the mountains without a companion or group, but there was also comfort to be briefly greeted by other hikers starting or returning from the trail. The uncertainty of solo hiking going wrong was always present in my mind, yet the self-reliance lessons I learned from every previous hike has motivated me to always prepare. I travel solo, but I was never alone. You think you are prepared for it, but it happens before you realize it.

Considering San Gorgonio elevation, the internet has called this mountain “a rite of passage” for hikers. With a title like that you know you have to respect the mountain and plan your hike accordingly. Since this was my final challenge, I needed this to be special. Looking for inspiration, I looked back at my photos I took of the six peak challenge, and I contemplated how to make this hike special. After a few minutes of going back and forth with the photos, I started to notice something about the time the photos were taken. Of the many photos I have taken, I don’t have a picture of a sunrise. have a few photos of a sunset on a summit, but not a nautical twilight photo of a sunrise on a summit. So, I had an idea to start with. As for the campsite, I’ve stayed on campground close to the summit as possible Yet, hiking in the wilderness at night is anxious for me. Whether it’s to the summit or returning to the campsite. Thankfully, checking the campground locations I found there’s an option to camp at the summit. Okay, I thought. I have an idea and a campsite in mind, all that’s left is to settle a time to hike. As I pondered, I started to imagine what I could see at the summit. Sunset. Sunrise. There had to be something missing. And it suddenly appeared in mind as clear as night. The moon. A full moon to be exact. I google searched with excitement to check the lunar phase calendar when a full moon will appear. After sorting through scheduling and timing, I eventually had a date to summit, camp, and photograph.

I don’t normally share details about myself, but for some context I don’t reside in Southern California county. At least not exactly in the county. I reside close to the outskirts of the county line of Southern California’s county. The Antelope Valley. For the past five summit challenges, I would have to meticulously ensure the gears and foods I bring on my hikes, especially when I’m camping in the wilderness are with me. That means I can’t drive back, especially after going around the mountains of Angeles National Forests.  What I bring with me is what I have. No room for error. Despite all my preparation, the weather on the mountain is always the trickiest to anticipate. I knew as the end of the year approaches, the weather conditions on the mountain would begin to change. So, days before my scheduled hike I researched weather reports of San Gorgonio mountains for the coming days. I checked the weather condition of the mountains, recent forums of hikers who hike the trails, and the number of people scheduled to the campsite. I thought I was prepared. I thought I was ready. Yet as I checked in a hotel near the San Gorgonio Mountain and turned on the TV, the local weather forecaster channel issued a wind advisory on certain area of the Los Angeles County and a frost advisory on my hometown. I sat on the edge of the bed and remembered a quote about mountaineering “You can have the best gear to increase your chances for safety, but at the end of the day the mountain holds all the cards for a successful summit”.

I arrived at the parking lot near Vivian Creek Trailhead around 9 am and took one last look around my surrounding of campers and hikers. Determined, but with slight uncertainty I quietly whispered to myself that one of them must be a camper for the summit. Giving myself a small reassurance for the summit. Now, of all the hikes I’ve done, my backpack was without a doubt the heaviest I ever carried. If I had to guess it to be 40+ pounds. So my plan was for every campground I’ll pass by I’ll take a small rest before I continue. My hope was to reach the summit before sunset to set up my tripod and camera, but primarily before the temperature drops drastically as sunlight begins to dim. As I approached the campsites, I was greeted by campers resting on the campground. With time to spare, I had a quick chat with the hiker asking about their hike or camp. During the conversation hikers were commenting if I had plan to stay at further campground. I explained to them I would camp at the summit to see the nautical twilight of sunset and sunrise. To my surprise, a few hikers commented they met a few going to the summit, but never heard or knew if anyone was staying at the summit. This news startled me. The further I hiked, the more familiar the conversation became with hikers. It wasn’t until I got close to High Creek campground, I met hiker who confirmed the details I didn’t want to know. He recently came down from the summit but didn’t see any tents at the summit. He asked other hikers if they knew any hikers camping at the summit, but the majority opted to return home after the summit.

With my shoulder’s sore from carrying the forty plus pound backpack, navigating an unpaved trail alongside a steep gravel traverse and legs tensing up after the final push above the ten thousand feet elevation, I let out the biggest sigh in my life as I reached the summit. Made it, I told myself with pride and fatigue in my breath. I skimmed the area to find a good spot to set up my campsite from the pile of rocks forming the recognizable circular rock wall. After finding a spot and setting up my tent I looked around other rock walls to see if other campers were present. The more I looked around the more the feeling of being alone on a summit slowly creeped into my mind. Maybe the hikers will come later, I thought to myself to calm my anxiety and to feel hopeful. Curiously, I checked my Fitbit and realized the time was around 4:30pm. It’s almost time, I thought as the sun was starting to set has the winds on the summit would gradually feel cooler and a little forceful. I setup my camera and tripod as I stare to the magnificent vista down the San Bernardino Mountain and the visible deserts of the combined higher Mojave Desert and the lower Colorado Desert. Within a few minutes of sunset, the shadow of the San Gorgonio Mountain began to from the black pyramid across the mountains. As I set my tripod and camera to take a photo, I began to hear noises of hikers approaching the summit. Ecstatic, I approached the hikers to find it was a couple on the summit. After sharing small conversions with them I asked if they were going to camp on the summit. They expressed their desire to camp on the summit, but they admitted because of the weather and wind they opted their decision on the last hours to camp on the lower campsite. As I waved goodbye to them, I slowly looked around my surroundings at the summit. The giant white rock on the summit reflecting the same color as the sunset. Cities and freeways far away from the mountains becoming visible by the lights of homes and cars. The full moon is slowly rising above the desert. A magnificent view from the top of the summit. How I wished this moment could last longer, but the longer I stood at the summit, the full moon was the only light source at the summit. It didn’t occur to me that my shadow from the moonlight had been cast on the ground. And that’s my cue to get in my tent. Just before calling it a night, I poked my head out of the tent to look at the full moon one last time. Beautiful. As I stared, I looked down at the ground to see the shadow of my tent and I remember I was going to be alone on the summit night.

Sleeping alone on a cold windy night summit was the toughest and most dreadful experience I will ever remember. I laid in my sleeping bag, my eye closed trying to drift away but the sound of the aggressive winds tapping the sides of my tent continue to wake me up every two hours. Even with a good thermo base layer, I was still shivering in my sleeping bag. To ignore my surrounding I tried to be optimistic and think about the sunlight, slowly emerging from the east. The warm orange color hues breaking the dark blue skies as its lights begins to seep a horizon on the sky, spanning across the vast desert and beyond how far my eyes can see. As I pondered on the imagery, the thought of how alone I was started to slowly creep in my thoughts. It’s not the fear of the unknown outside my tent that made me anxious rather it’s knowing where everyone is staying and how far away from them I am. No one would help me in time, I thought to myself. I chose to camp at the summit, I knew the risk. I quietly told myself. All that solo hiking has led me to this? Another thought ringing in my head. Every solo hike has taught me lessons about myself, including this hike. The phrase chattering in teeth. Wrapped in my sleeping bag, I brought my hands close to my face to check my phone for a signal at the summit. But the efforts to move my arms and body around to get a signal only sadden me. Of the many times I could camp with no cell reception, for once I wished for a signal just to check what my friends and families were doing. How I wanted to spend time with them, instead of being alone on a summit.

The sound of my alarm woke me up as I tried to collect my thoughts inside the tent to remember how my night was. I remember the tossing and turning in my sleeping bag before remembering the thoughts of being alone. Unfazed and not giving a damn about my situation I prepared my breakfast and a cup coffee. This view better be worth it, I told myself. After letting my breakfast and coffee heat up for a minute, I got out of my tent to stretch my whole body after the uncomfortable night. The sight of the sunrise made me pause for a few seconds. The expanse glowing orange horizon slowing luminating the desert area and mountain ranges from the east. Because of the elevation, the clouds appear as a large fog encompassing everything except for the mountain peaks above cloud level. I stood there, with a peaceful look at the sunrise sipping my morning coffee. Now that’s a view, I told myself. Yeah, now that is a view, said another voice. Startled by another voice, I turned to the direction of the voice and saw a camper, also looking out to the sunrise. Surprise by another camper early in the morning I asked if he recently made it to the summit. He said no because he camped on the summit last night, just like I did. Buzzed by his response, I started to ask questions to find out exactly when he arrived at the summit. Turns out, he made it to the summit 20 minutes after I went inside my tent. He was happy as he saw another tent at the summit as he feared he may be spending the night alone on the summit. Suspicious, I checked my camera as I left it on for time lapse photos and sure enough I found an image where his sleeping bag on the photo. The more we talk about our difficult night sleeping on the summit, the more I thought about my late night’s thoughts. It’s strange and kind of humorous. Here I was, thinking I was alone. Contemplating my life decisions about solo hiking, wondering if there was a lesson about this hike. It was strange and funny to be honest. Overthinking a scenario that wasn’t necessary. After the camper left, I packed all my gear as I prepared to leave the summit. Taking one last look at the sunrise I smiled, thanking the mountain for this hike. A rite of passage this hike was.

I travel solo, but now I know I’m never alone.

Six mountains hiked. Challenged finished for this year.

Onward to next year.