It was my first time out with my friend Al in about six months, and our first long day since my illness was diagnosed.

I had never been to Colorado's Rocky Mountain National Park, and Al was to serve as my guide. It is a beautiful place with an abundance of elk the likes of which I have never encountered. It was the end of August and we would be there for a total of six days, all of which were free for climbing, hiking, hot tubbing and eating. It's a tough life.

We spent the first several days on small hikes and rock climbs and just settling into the routine of leisure. We rock climbed at places like "The Thumb," "The Needle," "The Monastery" and "Lumpy Ridge." All good areas of very high-quality rock. Then came the real test.

On our last day we decided to try a slightly technical route on Longs Peak. Not the "Casual Route" on the Diamond or anything like that, but the North Face (formally known as the "Cables" Route) directly to the right of the Diamond and offering some of the finest views of a big piece of rock I have ever seen.

Our start would qualify as a disaster in its own right. Al was in charge of the alarm and yelled at me to get up at our designated time of 2 a.m. Problem was, as we were eating our cereal, he asked in a rather pathetic manner if I knew what time it was. My watch read midnight! I called him a few choice names and we tried, without success, to get a little more sleep. Upon our "reawakening" we headed out for the mountain and arrived at the trailhead at about 3 a.m., soon joined by a few others. The weather was clear and cool with no wind and a beautiful sliver of a moon which lit the unforested areas of the trail.

Al and I have been many places together and have climbed our share of hills in the last five years. We met in South America while climbing Aconcagcua in 1997 and have climbed regularly ever since (along with another good friend we met on that same trip). We live on opposite coasts, but have managed to hook up a couple of times a year for climbs of Rainier, Hood, Whitney, Denali and Robson, as well as our annual ice climbing adventures in Colorado and Canada. And now Longs.

The difference between our climb of this mountain and many of the others is me. Last August I was diagnosed with a serious heart arrhythmia known as Ventricular Tachyacardia. I never had, nor have, any symptoms which supposedly makes my case pretty rare. My doctors said most people with my illness who engage in extreme physical exertion without symptoms are the ones you read about when they fall over dead after some type of sporting event. These are generally young, active, and otherwise healthy people who wind up on the coroner's table only to be diagnosed after the fact. In a bizarre sort of way, I guess that makes me the lucky one.

I received an AICD (automatic implanted cardiac defibrillator) with a pacemaker function last July, was given some beta blockers and sent home to have a "normal life." All kidding aside, my doctors have been the very best and I know that without them I wouldn't be writing this article, but "normal" apparently varies from unable to drive a car or hold a job, to climbing mountains as a hobby.

Longs has the most accommodating approach I have encountered on a 14,000-foot mountain. The chain gang did some of their finest work on the trail building of this hill: very gentle, very smooth, but still, very very long. We took off at 3 a.m. from the trailhead at 9,400-foot elevation and hiked gently and steadily upward, not stopping until the wind kicked up at daybreak when we were at around 11,500 feet.

We didn't pass a single soul on the trail, and it was nice to only be passed by about four other groups that morning. Very light traffic. Al was taking it easy on me and I was appreciative. He carried almost all our technical gear and all I had were a couple slings, my harness, rock shoes, clothes, water and food. I guess my pack weighed about 20 pounds and his was close to double that. He's a strong guy, and he definitely carried our load on this one.

Our next stop was the really exciting toilets in the boulderfield. The cold wind coming up out of the high-tech toilets gathers your immediate attention. We grabbed a bite of food and a sip of water (laced with Gatorade) and prepared for the only real climbing of the day. After about an hour's scramble up through the ankle-eating boulders and scree that led to our route we came upon the almost overwhelming site of the Diamond. Up close and personal.

It is always a wonderful experience to be away from the crowds on a pleasant day in the mountains, but to be all alone and looking both up and down at such a magnificent piece of rock is truly a peak experience. From our rocky ledge on the precipice, called Chasm View, that face looked even bigger than it did on the approach. All aspects of that which I had read came into great detail including the treacherous looking Broadway and the Lambslide. The East Face of Longs Peak is a fabulous bit of Mother Nature's handiwork, especially when you can literally reach out and touch it without having to climb it.

After our gawking, we once again turned our attention to the task at hand. The North Face isn't really a face, but a pleasant 2+ pitch, moderate rock climb with fabulous views and good isolation. I don't think anyone else tried the route that day, and that made it all the more rewarding for us. Al led it all in great style and after repacking the gear we began the somewhat awkward scramble to the summit. At about noon, we crested the last few boulders and arrived at the top to join maybe six or eight others in some mutual picture taking and discussions of "where the hell did we come from?" All those at the top were "standard keyhole routers" and they hadn't seen us on their way up. The weather cooperated in a special way for me that day; bright sun and a cool breeze gave me all the advantage I needed.

After about 30 or 40 minutes on top we began the knee-dissolving traipse to the bottom. That same lovely trail that was so pleasant all the way up became a man-killing beast on the descent. Every 10-inch rock step became an unnecessary and unwanted pounding that felt more like a three-foot drop. In a feeble attempt to pass the time until the bottom, we played the "altitude game." Al went ahead by a few minutes and I stopped to ask a young couple out for an afternoon hike how much farther the parking lot was. When they said 'about one hundred yards,' I figured I could make it. I fell into the car late that afternoon. Al had a good laugh at me and we headed back to town.

It was only then that I remembered my heart. I love the mountains, and haven't been out on a day like that since all those really smart guys stuck in my little buddy (as they call the AICD). But somehow I pulled a 16-hour, 16-mile, 5,000-foot gain day together with the help of a dear friend and went home to sleep the sleep of a truly happy man.

Go be crazy.

— Mike Hardcastle, MountainZone.com Correspondent