When the midnight alarm went off, I was up quickly and threw on a few layers to start the stoves in our tent's vestibule. As I rolled back the fly, I was pleased to see the big dipper shinning bright in front of me. In fact, the whole sky was clear and I even noticed a shooting star before leaving camp. The clear sky promised firm snow conditions, perfect for our climb.

By 2 am we were all feed, packed and assembled into rope teams to start the ascent. No other teams were on our schedule, everyone else in camp had just returned from the upper mountain, we should have the route to ourselves.

As we climbed upward in the dark, I concentrated on breathing deeply and drinking plenty of water. I had rigged my camelbak to rest under my outer layers so it wouldn't freeze up. My pockets were filled up energy bars to keep them from hardening up as well. My camera also hung under my jacket to keep the battery warm. It seemed everything I needed I was wearing. My pack only held a snow picket, extra gloves, a down jacket and a bit of food that I didn't have pockets for.

Before long the sky to the north east began to lighten up. As we continued above the clouds they were turning shades of pink and yellow by the dawn. I began to flex my gloved fingers in the sun and think about the warmth that would soon possess us. Unfortunately, I knew that hours later that warmth would be oppressive and cold breezes longed for again.

Matt, from Denver, was feeling nauseous and after leaving the contents of his stomach on the glacier, decided that the right move was to turn around. John and Jason played rocks-paper-scissors to see who would continue to the top with the other 4 of us, and who would escort Matt back down through the glacier's crevasses. John won, and we reconfigured the ropes into a team of two and a team of five and wished Matt a safe descent.

After gaining more height, we began to traverse across the glacier toward Liberty Cap while crossing a few narrow crevasses. Turning left, we began to gain altitude quickly as we made a bee-line for the summit crater. As the wind increased I pulled on extra mittens and we stopped for a last break before the summit. With about 90 minutes of climbing and 1,000 feet left to go, one of my gloves got away from my and raced down the slope. It stopped within view before terminating its run into a crevasse. But I let the group know I had other gloves and we didn't need to waste time retrieving this one.

Resuming the climb we headed up into increasing winds. By the time we topped out on the crater the wind was close to blowing us over, probably just under 50 mph. We untied from the rope and rushed as quickly as our bodies could go at 14,400 feet toward the true summit, Columbia Crest.

We dipped down off the ridge to take shelter from the wind and approach the crest from within the crater. Reaching the summit at 9:30 am, John took pictures for us and congratulated us on the fastest ascent he'd guided. We then rushed back down to the crater to rest up out of the wind before the descent.

On the way back down, John traversed a little out of our way to retrieve my lost glove, then rotated the rope team and had me lead back down to camp. John stayed in the anchor position to keep an eye on all of us and retrieve the route marking wands he'd placed on the ascent.

Four hours later and we arrived back at Camp Schurman, greeted by Jason and Matt who had boiled water for us. Matt was feeling much better after sleeping and eating, something we all needed to do now. As we lazed about that afternoon, several other teams arrived at camp and prepared for their own summit attempts the next morning. Many noticed the solid snow walls we'd built on our tent, and assuming the worst for the weather conditions, worked to imitate our defenses. Their voices during the night as they departed for the summit woke us up, but still we managed to sleep for 8-12 hours each.