Colorado: Day 5 - New Heights and Remembrance

Today Delaware and I woke up exceedingly early to do something I've never done before. Our goal for today was to climb a mountain. A 14,000 foot peak. I've never climbed a mountain, nor have I ever been higher than about 10,000 ft(not counting airplane rides or Loveland Pass on I-70). I have never done anything physically demanding above 10,000 ft. There, that's more accurate.

I had many concerns going in. First of all, 5 days ago I was in Kansas City, elevation 1000 ft. This is a recurring theme of my week...ALTITUDE! Secondly, I have no mountaineering experience, so an obvious first choice is to do at 14er that's covered in snow. Brilliant, Daniel! Other minor concerns had to do with the little things like layering and what to bring, and that all ended up working out just fine. I also did a quick bit of research on HAPE(High Altitude Pulmonary Edema), a life threatening acute syndrome. It turns out you'd have to spend several days at altitude and it only affects roughly 1% of the population. With all of those matters settled, Delaware and I headed out for the front range to have an adventure.

We started the hike in around 7ish. I didn't bring a watch. The road to the trailhead was impassable due to being buried in snow, so we had an extra few miles of uphill trudging just to get to the "start of the hike". We both wore yaktrax and they worked pretty well. It was slow going and I was definitely breathing hard. Once we reached the trailhead, we stopped for some touristy pictures and then strapped on our snowshoes because we found we were sinking thigh deep into the snow in spots.

Another First for Danny: Snowshoeing. Never done it. And it was mighty awkward at first. The video footage of me taking my first few steps in them is pretty classic. I'll have that video edited and posted as some point, but it's gonna take awhile(It's up now). I more or less was walking like a duck.

We snowshoed through a long gulley and around a large mound and then our prize came into sight. Grays Peak. The 9th highest peak in Colorado. It is said to be one of the easiest 14ers in Colorado, which makes it quite popular. I've heard it described as an "interstate highway" due to the usual amount of traffic going up and down it. These things are all true about this peak....during the Summer. As it was, on this particular day in March, it was covered in snow and we had the entire mountain to ourselves. This was both good and bad. Good because, you know, solitude, becoming one with nature, getting to yell silly things and listen for the echo. Bad because...well...we didn't exactly know where we were going and the trail was really hard to locate, especially since parts of it were under snow.

After snowshoeing for a few miles, we switched back to our yaktrax for the business end of the ascent. It was a mixture of snow and rocks and the showshoes would have just gotten in the way at that point. We also each had brought an ice axe. Neither of us had ever used one, but we understood the basic principles of its use and how to use one to arrest a fall down a steep snowy slope. I just hoped I wouldn't have to put that knowledge to the test.

The first technical section presented itself. A steeply slanted traverse on hard packed snow. It was difficult to kick footholds into the snow and there was much slipping, sliding, and possibly cursing. As the traverse progressed, the theoretical unpleasantness of a full-on fall increased dramatically. I was very nervous that I might actually have to put some of my unpracticed ice axe knowledge into use. Several times I stopped to contemplate exactly what the hell I was doing there. It was these moments when I would look to Delaware for some sign that he wanted to turn around as well. "What do you think?" "Is this the right way?" "Should be even be up here in these conditions?" From way back in our climbing days this was always the hierarchy. Jake and Del were always gung-ho and I was the voice of "reason", or the voice of "Will this kill us?". I presented legitimate concerns, and they always told me that we were all gonna be like The Fonz. And then they'd ask me "What's The Fonz like?". And I would respond, "He's cool." And they would then say, "Exactamundo. He's cool, and we're gonna be cool."

For some reason it always calmed me down, and we were always ok in the end, despite being in more than a handful of hairy situations.

This was no different. I was nervous and Delaware was reassuring. I decided we'd get to the end of this traverse and see what it looked like before we made any decisions. I think there were at least 5 separate moments like this during our day.

So we continued. As I mentioned before, the trail was difficult to follow sometimes, and we definitely got WAY off route on the way up. We followed a trail up to a rock cairn and then the trail disappeared. We contemplated mobbing this way or that way, but none of the options seemed any good, but we picked one and traversed across an unsettling and blank snow face. And then mobbed straight uphill on a rocky section until we found the real-deal trail. And keep in mind that I'm gasping for air the entire time and I've never done anything like this before. Ever. And definitely not at 13,000 feet.

Once we found The Trail, a cursory glance downward showed us where we had gone wrong and reassured us that the descent wouldn't be quite as much of a clusterf*ck. The new concern was this: "Uh, what time is it?"

1:30 pm. Our absolute fail-safe, no-questions-asked cutoff time was Summit By 2 pm. Or turn around. We were already well past 13k, but the summit still appeared to be so far away. I began worrying that the descent might take longer than we thought. I imagined getting stranded on the mountain overnight and dying of hypothermia. My mind was already creating the headlines, "Yahoo Midwesterner Dies During Winter Attempt Of His First 14er.".

We soldiered on anyways. Being on the correct trail was very reassuring however, and the final switchbacks came and went relatively quickly. Suddenly, we were on the ridge. It was a short 30-40 yards to the summit. I couldn't freaking believe it! We were there!

Delaware hung back and allowed me to summit first, meanwhile getting out his video camera to document the moment properly. I strode up to the small pile of rocks that represented the highest point on the mountain. I stepped on top of the pile and let out a hearty yell in celebration. I then swept the horizon and took in the view.

We had reached the summit at 1:45...15 minutes to spare! We took some triumphant summit photos and goofed around a little bit and then I remembered something that I hadn't thought about in a long time. An old climbing buddy.

Bowen Pope was a heck of a guy. Always smiling, always upbeat, always up for an adventure. I remembered on one particular climbing trip, we were all hiking around when he approached a small pile of rocks, climbed on top of them and proudly proclaimed, "I have summited." We all giggled, but he insisted that any time you stand on the highest point of any object, be it a mountain, a small hill, or a lowly pile of rocks...that constituted "summiting".

Bowen died of cancer in Fall 2008 at the age of 30. I decided at that exact moment that this summit, my first summit, my first 14er....this summit was for him. I made a little video dedication to him on the summit and then thought about him. And I thought about myself. And I thought about where I was, both at that moment as well as in life. I thought about what I was doing. Bowen's life was cut tragically short, yet I am fortunate enough to have incredible health and opportunities to do amazing things. I contemplated whether I was doing his memory justice in the way that I was living my life.

This moment for me was an emotional punch to the solar plexus as I was overwhelmed with these thoughts. I missed my old friend, I was thankful for the life I've been given, I felt humbled and awestruck by the beauty that surrounded me in every direction, and for just a moment, I broke down.

After I composed myself, Del and I pointed our feet downhill and began the descent. One thing I know for a fact is that more mountaineers die on the descent than on the ascent. This makes sense because of the fact that many climbers let their guards down and get careless after the "hard part" is over. I was eager to get back to the car because I was downright exhausted, but I kept this in mind...sorta. I found the descent to be 100% easier, both as far as exertion and as far as keeping my footing. Maybe that had to do with the fact that we were actually on the proper trail this time, but who could honestly tell? The descent FLEW by, with the exception that Delaware's yaktrax kept coming off. We marched down the hill, got through the first tricky traverse from earlier...this part was actually just as tricky the 2nd time through and I actually legitimately fell a few times, but I was able to avoid sliding down the slope due to my totally awesome ice axe skillzz. We got back to snowshoe territory, strapped in, and settled in for the long trudge back to the trailhead, down the snow-covered road, and back to the car. We were both exhausted and hungry but utterly satisfied with how our day had gone.

The weather was absolutely perfect. Chilly, but not too cold. Not a cloud in the sky. Occasional mild winds, and barely a light breeze on the summit. I will admit that we both overlooked sunscreen and we both are now incredibly sunburned on our faces.

Worth it.

I couldn't have asked for a better experience for my first time climbing a mountain, and I was thrilled to have a guy like Delaware along for the adventure.



Here's the GPS readout from our journey.

A good friend of mine, a below-the-knee amputee, is training for an Ironman and raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, so if you'd like to support the cause please make a donation in memory of Bowen Pope(or anybody else you know who has suffered from this horrible disease).


As always, thanks so much for reading! It has been one hell of a week, and it's back to the Midwest for me!

Danny Loental