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It’s 4am. The sun won’t rise for at least another hour. I tentatively release my face, then my head and shoulders, from the hood of my sleeping bag. It’s freezing cold. So cold, in fact, that upon closer inspection it appears that my shoes, socks, and tent fly have all frozen in the night. We have camped at 11 500 feet above sea level, on Bighorn Plateau. The High Sierra landscape is staggeringly beautiful. Even in the moonlight I can make out the jagged mountain peaks caked in snow surrounding an otherwise barren landscape. Not much grows at this altitude, in contrast to the slopes of enticing alpine forest I walked through the previous day on the ascent towards Forester Pass – my task for the morning. There is no time for moping. Hiking across 6 miles of snow pack before ascending and summiting the snow-covered Forester Pass (at 14 320 feet) is not going to get easier as the sun gets warmer and the snow starts to soften. I manage to scrape my icy socks over my even icier feet, shoving my hands into cold gloves while I shovel an energy bar into my mouth. I remind myself that this is voluntary, that I wanted to be outdoors for four months, and I’m doing this for fun. Bighorn Plateau lies at mile 772 of the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail, a 2650-mile trail that runs along the western United States from Campo at the Mexican border, to Monument 78 at the Canadian border, traversing the States of California, Oregon and Washington. It is a bucket-list hike for anyone who considers themselves an outdoor enthusiast, and to say it offers the adventure of a lifetime is certainly an understatement. The hair-raising ascent over Forester Pass is one of several technical mountain passes that one navigates on the epic journey through the Sierra Nevada, a 300 mile stretch of the PCT. I approached the climb with a high degree of trepidation, the South African in me protesting violently against being suspended at a 60 degree angle on a mountain side with nothing but a pair of microspikes and an ice-axe keeping me from tumbling down the snow-laden slope, and the weight of 10 days’ worth of food interfering with my balance. Reaching the crest of the Pass and looking down at the snowy world around me was, however, transcendent. Nothing quite prepares one for the bracing beauty, the wildness and the magnitude of the severe yet serene Sierra landscape. It is quite unparalleled to anything I have seen before. For the days preceding Forester Pass, and the two weeks to come, I vacillate between feelings of extreme physical exhaustion and near-to-tears joy at the sheer wonder of the natural world around me. As one descends from the high altitudes of the passes, one enters what renowned naturalist John Muir described as the “sublime stillness” of the forest, the woods that are home to many curious creatures. Squirrels and mice, all too eager to snatch an unattended crumb. Bold deer foraging in the undergrowth, not shy to nibble on a salty trekking pole left outside a tent during the night. And American Black Bears, a sight most unfamiliar to an unsuspecting South African (and I can’t say I had entirely overcome my wariness of bears by the end of my journey). On my last night in the Sierras (as with many previous nights) I did not even bother to set up my tent. I later lay under the canopy of stars, the scent of pine needles around me and the feeling of a chilly night breeze against my face. I realized for the hundredth time that this complete immersion in nature brings me closer not only to the natural world and my place in it, but to myself.