We planned to head out at 7am after a chilly night, but things went sideways when we locked the keys in the car. Malcolm smashed his window with a rock, which was rough to watch. I felt like I was watching someone put down their beloved horse.

We finally hit the trail by 8am. The first 9 miles were easy, but Malcolm and Gabe set a fast pace, and my calves were burning. Then, the trail turned into a boulder field, making every step a careful one. The last mile got steep, and we had to scramble up using our hands in spots. I felt the elevation but kept shuffling forward.

After a break at the top, we headed down, and the scrambling was even worse on the descent—every step felt like it could twist an ankle. Then, thirst hit hard. We underestimated how much water to bring to the peak (~4 liters between the 4 of us, for 5 hours). We were all relieved to hit a stream a few miles later, where we chugged to our heart's content and filled every container we had.

The rest of the hike was technically easy but a mental grind. By the time we made it out, the sun had set, and I was totally spent, fantasizing about chicken wings and sleep. I could've curled up on the trail and passed out. After what felt like forever, we made it out, taped up the broken window, and headed back to SLC.