For whatever reason the idea of sleeping on the summit of a mountain crept into my head a few weeks ago. I have slept many nights in the mountains, never on the summit though, and never alone. The objective was always to find a spot sheltered from the wind and cold, flat and soft enough to pitch a tent, get a fire going, cook and sleep comfortably. Sleeping on the summit offers none of those amenities. But wouldn't it be amazing to watch the sunset and the next day sunrise from the summit? Ah, yes, it would, it would!
I considered Mt. San Antonio (Baldy) at first, since I am most familiar with that area. Then I thought if I am going to do it, it might as well be the tallest mountain around, mount San Gorgonio, 11,500 feet, not that tall by world standards, but the tallest in southern California and within an hour driving distance from me.
I needed a tent and a sleeping bag, which I acquired from my favorite store, Costco. Weight is no object, what's a few extra pounds. I made lists upon lists of items to bring. Matches, a spoon, freeze dried food, knife, Gatorade, nuts, crackers, etc.
On the day of the hike, I got up at 9:00 am, way later than I should have, and just dragged my hide around, packed, checked the list, unpacked, rechecked. Have you ever had one of those trip where you say to yourself "you're subconsciously trying to miss your flight, aren't you?" So I got on the road by 11:30, was at the ranger station by 12:30 to change my permit to take the shorter Vivian Creek Trail instead of Momyer and got to the parking lot by 1:30 pm.
The backpack was incredibly heavy; I could hardly hoist it on my back. I had two day's worth of water in the backpack. At a rest stop, I dumped half of the water. Screw it, I had water purification pills, could refill from streams or melt snow. The pack was still a 40+ pounder.
San Gorgonio is a vast wilderness. The mountain is eroded and slopes are mostly gentle and vegetated. Redwood trees adorn this wilderness and it's mostly untouched and well preserved. The hike was peaceful and quiet, with the exception of the jingling of my bear bell. I did not come across any bears, as much as I was hoping for the encounter.
Near the summit, I realized that the sun was setting and I was going to miss the summit sunset. I hustled and huffed and puffed and only got a very brief glimpse of the sunset from the summit. 
Disappointed and realizing how cold and windy it was, I came to another realization: I had forgotten my warm down winter coat in the car. So much for those lists! A tactical error with painful consequences. I pitched the tent, and shivering like a pan-handler's prick, I dove inside, changed out of my sweat soaked clothes into dry ones and got into the sleeping bag to warm up.
The wind howled and rattled the tent all night. The temperatures dipped bellow freezing; I tossed and turned all night, sat up to laugh at myself, to pee in empty Gatorade bottles, ventured outside the tent for 10 seconds, curled back into a bundle inside the sleeping bag as I lamented another critically missed item on my list: a sleeping pad. I thought "This is how Chris McCandless must have felt like in his final days in that bus in Alaska!" Then I laughed at myself, "Don't flatter yourself, this ain't Alaska and you've only been here one night! Settle down!"
The wind subsided in the early hours of the morning. I am not sure if I slept or not, floated in a state of dreaming awakness, right on the edge of where you cross over into sleep. I notice the light of dawn outside. Ah, catching the sunrise? I pondered. "#*#% NO! I am not leaving this sleeping bag, no matter what. There can be a thousand splendid sunrises out there, I am not going to move. It's #*%#ing cold."
The bright sun warmed up the tent and I drifted to sleep for half and hour or so, then suddenly the tent was hot. Damn green house effect. I stepped outside. It was still cold but less windy. The crisp morning sun was splashed on the world all around bringing an endless sense of serenity and solitude. I fed my chipmunk visitor some leftover rice, heated up some water to make dried omelet and packed with weak and noodley legs, from lack of rest. I started down. I was at the parking lot, sweet parking lot, by 2:00, home by 3:30 pm, in bed by 4:00pm, only to wake up the next morning at 8:30 am.
One more thing knocked off the "Stuff I Wanna Do Before I Die" list. But I am going to have to do this again. It just didn’t hit the spot like I wanted it.
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