For years I have been living in the IE, and have seen this looming peak every time I've stepped outside my dorm, skated to class, and driven on the 91 or the 15. I have itched to stand atop that peak ever since I laid eyes on it in 2015. On May 9th, 2020, I'd had enough. I attempted to drive to the Middle Fork trailhead, only to discover my low-clearance vehicle was no match for the rough dirt road. I parked on the side of the road about a mile away. I hiked to the trailhead and 3.5 miles in, but it was too late in the day to continue on without night falling on my flashlight-less self. The next day, I got an early start with an edge of determination this time. I pushed my car to its limits and made it to the trailhead finally. The first miles were familiar: an almost desert-scape ascent with rushing water sounding in the valley below. Next came a wooded stretch with copious bugs, then came an especially steep and exposed section that led up to the icehouse saddle, a well-known junction that many peak trails originate from. I stopped for lunch, then pushed for the last 2.5 up to the peak. Snow obscured much of the trail, the path was near impossible to spot in some sections. Being unprepared for snow, I relied heavily on my hiking staff to push across the patches of snow and avoid slipping to my demise below. The trudge was challenging and relentless. Nonetheless, I pushed past the fatigue and eventually emerged victorious atop that looming peak I had dreamed of conquering years ago. I was alone at the top, I hadn't seen a soul since at least 3 miles earlier before the icehouse saddle. The view was like no other hike I had seen in SoCal. I towered over the cities below and basked in the glory of completing my first major peak. The way back down was filled with joy, prayers of thanksgiving, and protein bars. The stats: 15.4mi, 5,397′ gain, 7:16 moving time, and an average pace of 28:21/mi.