Friday evening, I had done a considerable amount of homework and finished up 90% of a large project that day. Afterwards I let my brain unwind by playing some games before our movie night. Trevor, Brandy, Bryan, and I kicked back and watched Munich. I didn't have much to eat that day, and I realized how hungry I was about 12am. I made a PBJ, and wolfed it down. After the movie, I had a lot of energy, and I knew I wouldn't be getting to bed any earlier than 4am like the past week or so with my strange schedule. To break this habit, I figured I'd use the energy from the PBJ. Threw some stuff in my backpack, including flashlight, water, snackage, camera, and 1911. I left my car at the Mill Creek B trailhead right at 3am, and started up towards Twin Peaks. Even though there was a near full moon, I was in the shadow of the mountain, plus in a dense canopy of trees. Flashlight was needed. I made my way to the large aspen colony right before you hit the meadow and ponds. I heard something in the bushes, large enough to stir up leaves, and snap some moderate branches. I figured I had spooked something that was sleeping, but later I heard it again moving about the same distance from me. I was being followed. 
At this point I already had the.45's hammer back, safety off, and resting on my flashlight arm fixated at the source of noise. Whatever it was, it sounded larger than a dog, but all in all just seemed curious about my presence, and thankfully kept its distance.
I got out into the meadow, and felt quite a bit more comfortable out in the reflected moonlit open surroundings and was able to turn off the flashlight for a bit. I chugged my way up the right side of the basin. (Now that I've gone this way twice, I think next time it would be much more efficient to break left at the junction) The way I went snaked through a labyrinth of thick undergrowth in a random talice slope. There were scattered cairns, but most ended up leading towards dead ends. Now, try navigating this in the dark. I was led by some "trails" here and there… and had to backtrack to get myself somewhere in the open again. Finally, after about 45 minutes and 300 feet of elevation wasted, I got out on an exposed slide. The very same one David and I ascended early this year. This gulley is very steep, and progress seemed slow. I found a small flat spot around 9K feet, and curled up for a 15-30 minute nap. I aimed for the same spot where David and I got turned around from the unstable snow and ice conditions, and made a goal to get there before sunrise. I realized how much of a wuss I had become with the high altitude air. By the time I hit 10K, I was useless. 30 steps up, *pant* *gasp* *pant*. When I reached the ridge top, I sat down and watched the sun rise while the winds tried to tear away my paper-like windbreaker.
After snapping some pics, I ate the best tasting apple on the planet. I continued to traverse the ridge southward towards a sub-summit. This traverse became a little dicey with slanted glacier-polished slabs, and ball bearing like rocks scattered all over. (I had to resort to a spread eagle torso stop when I slipped once) I saw in the distance three large mountain goats grazing in a field below some cliffs. With my white windbreaker, and my quadruped like movement on the rocks, I don't think they took notice until I was close enough to smell. My camera took too long to boot up, to get any good shots when I popped my head over some nearby rocks. I saw three little ones, and three adults. The young ones made strange noises similar to a pika bark but lower pitch, and longer duration. They were also carelessly playing on the rocks, butting heads on ridiculous looking cliff edge. I got myself to a saddle point in the ridge and made my way up to the sub-summit. I looked at the time, and realized I wouldn't have enough time to make it to the top and back to fulfill my obligations I had made for Saturday. Well, maybe I could have, but it would have been too close for comfort, and I didn't want to rush myself on dangerous slopes. I snapped some more pics, and sent out a taunting mass text message to several people.
I skidded my way down the loose rock gulley, and wished it were snowy. Once again my nostrils were permeated with the scent of mint from some unidentifiable source in the vegetation. I sampled what I believed to be all species of plant life around, and none of it smelled anything like the strong odor produced when I skidded through vegetation. In due time, I had to enter the labyrinth again, but this time I could navigate with my GPS, and follow the trail of digital breadcrumbs to find my way out quickly. I got down to the pond area eventually. I looked for the one rock that siblings and cousins had their pictures taken decades ago, and recognized it almost immediately. (I was too young/little to come on that hike then) I walked right up to it, and saw an array of rocks next to the edge of the large rock. I lifted one aside, and discovered a quarter! Yessssss! Laundry money! I then moved the rock next to it, and found……. THE SKITTLES WRAPPER! The very same wrapper deposited there years and years ago! (along with a grape fruitsnack wrapper we saw so much on our family roadtrips) I yoinked them, placed 'em in my baggie, and headed down the trail. I met a few people on their way up, but not as many as I experienced coming down from Lake Blanche. Got to the car at exactly 9am, and the GPS logged 6.0 miles. (what's with the multiples of 3 today?
) I had agreed to help someone load supplies into their car at 11:30am, so I had some time to spare… but oh well. The mountain isn't going anywhere.
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