As a photographer, I've gone to some pretty extreme lengths to capture incredible moments. I've climbed mountains before sunrise, stood in freezing rivers, and hiked miles carrying camera gear that somehow gets heavier with every step.

But this surprise proposal on Guadalupe Peak may have been my greatest test yet.

Not because of the proposal.

Because of my partner.

The plan was simple. We would start hiking around 1:30 PM, reach the campground, set up camp, and then hike to the summit later that evening where I would photograph a surprise proposal at the highest point in Texas.

Looking back, starting a mountain hike at 1:30 PM in West Texas may not have been our finest moment.

Thankfully, there were some clouds overhead. Otherwise, this blog post might have been titled "The Time We Melted on Guadalupe Peak."

My partner of 21 years joined me for the adventure. We've trekked through the Himalayas together, so I figured Guadalupe Peak would be no problem.

Thirty minutes into the hike, she was sitting on the side of the trail eating energy gels and asking if she was going to make it.

As a loving and supportive partner, I encouraged her.

As a realistic hiker, I was internally drafting our evacuation plan.

She had already stopped multiple times and we had barely gotten started.

Wanting to help, I grabbed her backpack and attempted to carry both of our packs.

Combined weight: approximately 62 pounds.

Distance carried: roughly the length of my optimism.

After a few minutes I realized that if I continued, I would either fall off the mountain or become a cautionary tale on a hiking forum.

So instead, I took her water.

Now this is where things get interesting.

Before the trip, she spent weeks making fun of me for weighing every piece of gear. She laughed at me for carefully selecting lightweight camera equipment and trimming ounces wherever possible.

Meanwhile, I was carrying the tent, cooking gear, food, camera equipment, batteries, clothing, and all the other necessities.

She packed a sleeping bag, sleeping pad, clothes, and what appeared to be enough water to survive the apocalypse.

Two gallons.

At one point I realized I was carrying nearly nine liters of water just to get us to camp.

Suddenly my ultralight backpacking obsession didn't seem so ridiculous.

Three exhausting hours later, we finally reached camp.

We set up the tent, I organized my camera gear, and she packed the dinner.

Or so I thought.

As we began hiking toward the summit, I discovered she had packed her dinner and my breakfast.

My dinner was still sitting comfortably back at camp.

The mountain had won.

So while I photographed a beautiful surprise proposal at sunset, I was powered almost entirely by trail mix, and stubbornness.

Fortunately, the proposal itself was incredible. The couple got engaged at the top of Texas with sweeping views in every direction, and I was lucky enough to document the moment.

And honestly, despite all the suffering, it was one of those adventures that reminds you why you do these things in the first place.

The laughter. The shared struggle. The stories that become funnier every year.

We've hiked all over the world together, including the Himalayas, and somehow this little trip up Guadalupe Peak still managed to humble us.

The proposal was perfect.

The sunset was beautiful.

The photos were worth every step.

And my partner learned a valuable lesson about carrying two gallons of water.

Actually, who am I kidding?

She probably didn't.

But at least now she understands why I weigh my gear.