We could see a search-and-rescue helicopter in the distance banking to make a run up majestic Rock Creek basin. It was ascending to the remote southerly backside of Mount Whitney – at 14,495 feet the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states.

Though the chopper was looking for me and my wife, Linda Heard, our decision to be on a ridge miles away and three days overdue may have saved our lives. We didn't know until later how dangerous conditions actually were. High winds and black ice claimed one climber's life and kept rescuers busy with at least four major injury evacuations that last weekend in September. We were forced to spend a night on a small ledge above 13,200 feet in our Sierra Designs Sirius II tent, which admirably weathered 60-mph winds.

"You guys ran into pretty bad conditions," said Jason Bauwens, law enforcement officer for Sequoia National Park. "When it gets like this, we're just happy they walk out. That's the best-case scenario – especially with multiple calls coming in."

Our plan was to hike 18 miles (mostly off-trail and over 10,000 feet) to the remote southern backside of the mountain, scramble up to the ridge with full packs, drop onto Trail Crest, summit Whitney, descend via the more popular Whitney Portal route and drive back around to get our other car. Instead, our hike became a grueling seven-day, 53-mile loop that included a night hunkered against gale-force winds on a rock shelf just big enough for our two-person Sirius.

After carefully clearing the icy and treacherous Crabtree Pass, we faced the climb up to Discovery Pinnacle. From Upper Crabtree Lake (just over 12,000 feet elevation), it rises more than 1,500 feet in about three-quarters of a mile. If that isn't enough, the composition is loose shale, boulder fields, sand and rock. Halfway up, we knew we wouldn't summit Whitney that day.

Worse, winds were howling, clouds were gathering and we were exhausted. Linda, who had been amazingly strong to this point, began to shake uncontrollably. She was becoming hypothermic – her core body temperature was being drained by the wind-chill factor. I was cold but holding on much better thanks to my Sierra Designs Hurricane parka as a shell layer.

Miraculously, we found a flat space in the rocks barely big enough for our Sirius tent. We got Linda into her sleeping bag. I melted snow and made hot tea to help bring our core temperatures up, and we climbed into our sleeping bags fully clothed for a fitful night's rest. Without the amazing wind resistance of the Sirius, I'm sure we couldn't have recovered to continue the climb the next day.

We ascended to the crest only to discover the route was completely blocked by a snow cornice coating the eastern slope. We had no choice but to descend to a ranger station (it was closed for the season), then hike three days out – with some memorable nights in our Sirius tent along the Pacific Crest trail.

At dinner after our ordeal, Linda reminded me of a comment she made during our descent from Discovery Pinnacle. Pausing to catch our breath halfway down, she turned to me and said:

"Our next vacation is going to involve airplanes and drinks with little umbrellas."

As much as I love my Sirius, a hotel room sounded a lot better at that point.

STAN JOHNSTON, former sports editor of The Sacramento Bee, is a marketing executive who can be reached via e-mail at StanOfSac@aol.com

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