I had never hiked alone at night in the wilderness with little sleep. The only thing I had to protect myself was bear spray; I was literally enacting one of my childhood fears. How did I get here?

The short answer: FOMO (fear of missing out). Allow me to provide some context.  

I am a university student currently living in Utah. One of the advantages of living here is that I am surrounded by a plethora of mountains and beautiful sceneries. The vast landscapes the state offers makes it a popular touristic and adventure destination. Whether that be eloping in Zion National Park, backpacking, boating, or skiing, you can find the right adventure for you! Wild adventures in Utah are what I live for!

I was invited to summit King’s Peak, Utah’s highest peak sitting at 13,528 feet. I have wanted to summit this peak for many years, so I became thrilled at the idea of summiting it. However, there was just one problem: I had already committed beforehand to attending a reunion Friday evening with other friends. Despite my desire to see those friends, I truly wanted to both attend the reunion and summit King’s Peak.

Why not do both?

Clearly, this was ludicrous.

It seemed like all odds were against me; the reunion took place in Salt Lake City and the trailhead was nearly three hours away. Furthermore, the hike was 25 miles round trip. For this reason, my three friends had already left Friday afternoon, so they could have time to get ahead and find a campsite near Dollar Lake (if you plan to camp overnight to summit King’s Peak, I recommend camping here as the rest of the trail becomes rocky terrain) to stay overnight before making the great ascent. This meant I would have to hike at night alone to catch up to them.

After much thought and consideration, I decided to do it. I planned and packed accordingly for my solo trip to King’s Peak at night.

Tip: Bring bear spray! Hopefully you won’t need it, but don’t leave your fate up to mother nature.

I attended my reunion and left at 8:30 PM. Upon arriving to the trailhead, I got changed and started hiking at 11:30 PM. The plan was to hike 8 miles along Henry Fork’s Trail until I found a red folder with my name that my friends had left behind with instructions on arriving to their campsite beside Dollar Lake. My estimated arrival time was supposed to be 2:30 AM on Saturday.  

Truthfully, I was nervous; I had never hiked at night alone in the dark. For the entirety of my trek, I did not see another human. I had already been awake for 12 hours, but I was alert to my surroundings. I became hypersensitive to any sound and feeling; a tree branch caught onto my backpack, and I jumped when I thought a bear had snuck up on me.

Frankly, the task was simple: all I needed to do was follow the trail until arriving to the promised red folder. The initial portion of the hike wasn’t even strenuous since it was mostly flat. I kept up a good pace and despite my worries, I was excited to meet up with my friends.

Then, my path took a turn.

Quite literally.

The building pressure and fear clouded me momentarily. Consequently, I missed the sign, and I took the wrong trail for approximately 4 miles. I had found another sign, but it gave me no instructions to the destination. You can imagine my anxiety rapidly growing and the darkness overwhelming me as I realized that I had deviated from the trail.

Luckily, I had downloaded a Google map, and I was able to find the sign and continue my path to Dollar Lake. Upon seeing the red folder, I became hopeful after a long night of loneliness and isolation. By the time I found my friends, it was 4:30 AM, nearly two hours after I expected to arrive.

Despite the long night, it wasn’t over.

We had looked at the forecast and knew there could be thunderstorms. We knew we couldn’t summit with lightning at the top, but we wanted to try to make it before the storm’s arrival. As a result, we started our trek at 5:00 AM. This meant I only slept for a total of 15 minutes.

Understandably, my friends were concerned with my physical state and encouraged me to rest appropriately. After all, I drove separately, so I could have summitted and gone home on my own time.

However, my stubbornness would never allow that.

I didn’t merely venture into the wilderness on my own to just summit King’s Peak; I did it because I wanted to accomplish something adventurous and challenging with my friends. These are people with whom I have journeyed in many mountains, and I didn’t want to miss out. I had worked so hard to catch up to them, and I didn’t want my efforts to be in vain.

As you can already tell, my extreme FOMO influences a lot of my behavior.

I firmly told my friends that I would still summit King’s Peak with them because I knew I was strong enough to do it. They understood and we started.

To avoid the storm, we moved very quickly and passed other hikers. I knew this would happen and accepted the challenge.

It was tiring and gruesome. Nevertheless, I marched forth and kept up the pace.

Due to our efforts, we were able to witness a glorious sunrise illuminate the basin as we approached King’s Peak. After scrambling and nimbly jumping around the boulders, we arrived at the summit, where we enjoyed company with only one other hiker. It was simultaneously beautiful, peaceful, relieving, and shocking for me. I really did it.

At that point, I felt proud and unstoppable. The hike back was a walk in the park and my worries had vanished. Even the drive back to home was pleasant (granted one of my friends ended up driving back for me).

Even as I write this, I am still amazed how I mentally pushed myself to trudge through. In retrospect, it may not have been the wisest decision, but I am happy I did it. I discovered what kinds of boundaries I am willing to push to get what I want.

I hope this anecdote serves you as an ill-advised, but interesting experience from which you can remind yourself that you are truly capable of what you set your mind to do. Only you can stop yourself.