The first day we had a gruelling hike from the valley to our camp spot at the 1850 metre (6100 foot) level. Our heavy packs really weighed us down. Mine was just over 27 kilos (60 pounds), David's was 9 (20 pounds). Those weights might not sound bad, but when you haven't carried a heavy pack on your back for over a decade, you get a little out of practice. David had never carried a heavy pack.

When we left our van, parked beside Lightning Lake, we walked into a grey, overcast day. The sky was threatening and our hope was that we would reach our campsite, high in the mountains, without getting wet. We had rain jackets with us, but began our hike in t-shirts. The day was cool, but not cold.

The trail rose steeply from the valley floor through a forest of pine and fir. Switchbacks carried us ever higher above the valley floor until Lightning Lake was a mere pond below us. Somewhere along the trail it began to drizzle, but we kept walking. It was gruelling with our heavy packs, but I didn't want to stop and rest until we absolutely had to. From past experience, I knew that the interval between rest stops would get smaller and smaller as the day progressed. I wanted to travel close to an hour before our first stop. We managed fifty minutes.

At our first rest stop we donned our light rain jackets, wearing them over top of our t- shirts. It was cool, but I didn't want to wear a sweater and over heat. I know that for David the best part of putting on his jacket was that he had to remove his backpack for a few minutes. He didn't like the weight he was forced to carry. And he wasn't alone. I was not at all happy about the heavy pack on my back.

The trail remained steep for five kilometres, then began to level off. It still rose, but the grade was easy. Thank goodness for that. My knees were beginning to give out. We knew the campsite was seven and a half kilometres from the base, so we watched intently as we passed small plastic squares which marked off the kilometres one by one. Finally we reached a beautiful meadow and in it a sign which told us the campsite was only one kilometre ahead. Joy. My legs were like jello and my knees like over stretched rubber bands. And it was cold. We were now over 1800 metres (6000 feet) in elevation.

We continued through a mix of forest and meadow, climbing gradually now, until at last we saw what looked like a tiny log cabin. It was! It was the emergency shelter at the area where we could camp. We had arrived.

We struggled the last few meters into camp and exhausted, dropped our packs to the ground. There were three young men already here and they greeted us as we gasped in the relief of finally being free of our heavy packs. I was surprised that they had put up their tent and were not using the small log cabin. Walking over to the shelter I took a quick look. It had no door, only an opening where there should have been a door. There was a dirt floor and no openings for windows. What might have once been wooden sleeping platforms lay in a broken heap on the earthen floor. We weren't going to use the shelter either. It was dark, damp and the mosquitoes would eat us alive.

There was no time to rest. We needed to pitch our tent and get some shelter from the incessant drizzle. We leaned our packs against a huge fir tree which offered shelter from the rain, and untied the tent from on top of my pack. In ten minutes it was up. Ten minutes more and we had two nylon tarps up as well - one over the tent and one over the area in front of the tent where we would cook. As soon as that was done we were throwing our sleeping bags and clothes inside.

Thankfully the tent is huge. It is called a six person tent, which means it has lots of room for four. The two of us had room to spare. We followed our gear inside and took a moment to rest. I suddenly realized just how cold I was - cold enough I was not thinking totally clearly. I dug in my pack and came up with a t-shirt, shirt, sweater and insulated shirt jacket. I stripped off my t-shirt, soaking wet with a mixture of rain and perspiration, and put on all the dry clothes I had just dug out of my pack. David did the same and soon we were once again warm.

After a brief rest we slipped out of the tent and began to prepare dinner. It was a great meal which filled us and left us feeling much better. By the time we had our dishes cleaned the rain had stopped and we walked down to where the three other campers were making a fire. David helped them gather wood and soon we were warming ourselves beside a crackling pile of burning logs. Overhead the sky was still solidly overcast, but at least it wasn't raining. We were both tired, so by the time it got dark we were ready for bed. We slept soundly, lying on the rough ground.

The second day dawned cloudless and beautiful. After eating a good breakfast we left our campsite and set out for the summit of Mount Frosty. The day was warm and sunny. What a change from the day before.

Carrying just our lunch, water and jackets we began hiking up the trail. It was steep, but with so little weight we almost ran up the mountain. Quickly the trail moved out of the thick forest and into more open terrain. Trees were spaced further apart and interspersed with large open meadows. The meadows were full of wild flowers of all different colours. Gradually the trees thinned until finally they ended. Above us we could see nothing but rock.

Leaving the last of the trees behind us the trail became very steep. Switchbacks led up through rocks and cliffs to a sawtooth ridge. Arriving at the top of the ridge we stopped and rested. The sky was blue, almost cloudless, but a strong wind was blowing from the west keeping the temperature down. After a few minutes pause, we set out for the final fifteen minute march along the ridge, climbing to the summit. David told me he didn't like walking along the narrow ridge top with such a powerful wind blowing. He was worried he would be blown away by the powerful wind.

It was hard to concentrate on walking. It wasn't because of the wind, but because of the beautiful mountains all around us. But the walking was difficult, so we had to watch what we were doing as we walked over the jumble of rocks which formed the ridge we were following. Sometimes we could tell what was "trail" but most of the time it was just a matter of moving along the narrow ridge top towards the summit, taking whatever route across the rocks looked easiest.

At last as we looked ahead we realized there was only one more short climb ahead of us. Then we were on top of the 2408 meter (7950 foot) summit. Around us the deep blue sky was pierced by jutting black summits, some of them white with snow and glaciers. Below us green forest covered slopes descended to valleys far away. Apart from the whistling of the wind all was tranquil. It had been a long time since I had stood on a summit which I had climbed on foot. A sense of joy enveloped me. I loved this.

Four other hikers were on the summit with us. We took their picture, they took ours. Then all of us took pictures of the peaks around us. To the south and south-west the peaks were even higher than us. Mount Frosty is at the northern end of the Cascade Range which stretched away to the south. The border with the United States was less than a kilometre away and appeared as a cleared swath through forests and valleys. Only on rugged, rocky summits was it invisible. To the north and the east the mountains were rounded and lower than Frosty. To the west were the battlements of the Coast Range, rocky and rugged like the Cascades. But no matter the direction, the view was magnificent.

We ate lunch on the summit, sitting inside a rock wall built long ago by other hikers to offer protection from the wind on days like this one. Siting within the protection of the piled rocks we were warm. The other hikers left and for a while we were alone. Then a group of tourists from France arrived, they too having made the steep ascent of Frosty.

After a little more than an hour on the summit, we began our descent. We picked our way down the rocky ridge and then down the steep switchbacks which led off the barren ridge and back down to the tree line. We walked through the meadows and into the forest. All along the way we stopped to take pictures of the beautiful wild flowers growing along the trail. On the way up we hadn't taken the time to pause for these necessities. Now we had all the time in the world.

We were back in camp early in the afternoon and had the rest of the day to relax. The other campers had decided to camp higher up the mountain so we had the campsite to ourselves. We picked up our big dome tent and moved it 50 meters, sitting it down in the choice spot beside the fire pit where the others had placed their tent the night before. Dome tents are a joy. No matter how big, they can be moved without taking them down.

The evening was beautiful. After another hearty dinner we made a fire and sat until well after dark. It was great to be here with David. The two of us alone. In days long after the trip David told me that reaching the summit hadn't been important to him. It was the two of us camping together that was best.

The third morning, sunny and hot, we were up early. We had breakfast, broke camp and were hiking before 9:30 am. The hike down was so much easier than the hike up. Although we still had our heavy packs, they didn't seem to weigh us down as they had when we were climbing up. We seemingly flew down the trail, sunny blue sky overhead making the return trip bright and beautiful. Even stopping to take lots of pictures, we were down in two-third the time it took us to climb up.

This was the first time David had done any over night backpacking. He wasn't impressed with carrying a pack. He wasn't even impressed by the spectacular view from the lofty summit of Mount Frosty. But he loved camping in the wilderness of the forest, empty except for animals and birds.

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