I was still in my sleeping bag and Phil was anxious to get moving. Over the past two days we had climbed Mt. Williamson via a new route and had descended to this high camp on the previous day. Our route had started in the Owens Valley near the North Fork of Bairs Creek, and then ascended directly to the summit, gaining 9000 ft. from the sagebrush to the summit block.

"How did you know it would go?" You don't, and that is the attraction. On such an ascent you become totally immersed in the mountain. Surrounded by its beauty, engulfed in its challenges, and rewarded by the endeavor.

The plan was to stay as near the creek as possible. That way we could carry a minimum amount of water. We each started with a quart or less. By the time we had gained a couple of thousand feet, we knew we had made serious mistake. The day was hot and the humidity low. Not a snow patch, seepage or creeklet was to be found. At every opportunity we looked for a line that would allow us to intersect the creek, but the rugged terrain dictated one path and that was upward. After six hours without water, the mountain relented, and allowed us to traverse into the heart of the canyon. From a distance the lush green of the creek pulled us into its columbine shrouded arms. Suffering from dehydration and near heat exhaustion, it is without question the most thirsty I have every been.

We stayed at this live-giving spot for at least an hour, before cautiously continuing up canyon to an evening camp near the topmost bench at its head. The following morning we worked our way into a spectacular cirque and then followed a long steep snow chute to a granite headwall. Ascending this, we continued to the talus covered slope that led to the summit. Near the summit we encountered waist-deep Névé Penitentes