His eyes open; he’s had some sleep, but now it’s time to stay awake. He’s stiff. He wills his legs to move; they cramp first, then finally respond. He staggers in place, working out the cramps. The moon is high and shining between smooth pale clouds. He takes his first step towards a nearby bush, then another. Finally his legs warm enough to move smoothly but they still ache. He hefts his pack, and the final push begins.
Jim takes the old skyline trail through Tungsten Pass and up to Anderson Pass. For two hours he walks the moonlit trail through a rock-strewn meadow—circling up and around the north face of King’s Peak. Then as the eastern sky brightens he leaves the trail and cuts up and up over the giant rocks of the talus cliff on the east face. The brisk south wind races up the slope without chill. Jim walks and climbs until he’s overheated and panting, then he breaks. When his wind is back and he starts shivering, he starts walking again.
The eastern sky turns blue, then rosy. The boulders Jim is negotiating turn to rocks, then scree, then a rock face—Jim is near the top. He pants as he struggles up the last thirty meters of cliff to the summit.
Just as the rosy glow of the sun shining on the bottoms of the clouds races across the sky ahead of the dawn, Jim makes the top. As a symbol he takes four pictures: North, south, east, and west. His helmet-mounted video and Tinkerbell frame the shots much better than he does but even Jim’s amateurish efforts produce spectacular results. To the north and south Gilbert Peak and Mount Emmons strain to reach to the pink dawn clouds, which are so close they move and tear visibly as they cross the crests. To the west sunlight brightens just the crests of Mount Powell and Wilson Peak. They stand out white and brown from the dark gray of unlit clouds above and gray-blue-green of the forest below.
The wind is so strong now it tries to blow Jim off the crest! He moves to the lee of the ridge but stays near the top. He rests and eats and rests some more—his calves still ache from the night before.
All through the morning the clouds thicken and the wind grows. Every hour Jim takes more pictures. They’re spectacular but not nearly so much as the first. At two o’clock the first brushes of mist touch the mountain top. “Sorry folks, there’ll be no sunset shots this trip.” Reluctantly, Jim starts down the slope.
The return to camp is a blur to Jim. He’s tired, cold, and hungry. He can’t move fast enough to keep warm but he tries to and falls. It’s not serious. Fortunately King’s Peak shelters him from the worst of the wind until he’s back onto the High Line Trail. The rain starts before he reaches camp. When he gets there Celeste is waiting forlornly with her back to the wind and rain.
He wastes no motion slipping into the tent and downing food and water. It’s daylight so he checks the dung heater and removes the wet fuel. He lights it and falls asleep immediately.