Roscoe just under the Boulderfield shortly after sunrise.
This is the story of our trip to the summit of Longs Peak from the time we thought up the idea, training for the climb, and the climb itself.
It is intended as "informative" entertainment, but is not a complete
reference guide. For more information about climbing Longs, contact
Rocky Mountain National Park
(the "unofficial" web page). Or consult one of the many fine
books on the subject such as Mike Donahue's The Longs Peak
Experience. Or contact one of the excellent climbing schools
such as
Colorado Mountain School located in Estes.
Ever since my friend suggested last year that we climb Longs Peak, I accepted it right away as a goal. She had climbed it when she was sixteen and decided it would be a good thing to do again. We began training in earnest over six months prior to the trip, which we planned for July. We selected the end of July to maximize our chances that there would be minimal snow and ice in the Trough. We began training so early because we are both in our mid-forties and my friend remembered how difficult the hike was.
We did local trail hikes in the mountains around Phoenix every single weekend working our way up to full fifteen-mile day hikes. The trails offered at least a modicum of steepness and various surface conditions to train our ankles and condition our feet, break in boots, and the like. We worked on the list of gear we would carry and always carried that amount on our local hikes (well, almost always). We also carried the full amount of water we thought we would need on Longs; a gallon each. It was heavy! We experimented with different types of food such as energy bars, etc. The gear, including emergency equipment such as first aid, fire starters etc., became very refined as the months wore on because of weight. One week before the trip we stopped all hard exercise to allow our bodies to reach maximum recovery just before the climb.
We also trained in the gym three times a week. I followed a cut back Navy SEAL training routine I had gotten from a mail order book; pull-ups, push-ups, sit-ups, dips...that sort of thing. It worked very well! I also wanted to lose thirty pounds of basically gut, which I did. Oh yes, I did have to change my eating habits, or lifestyle as people call diets these days! About six weeks before the trip, I discovered a killer treadmill walking routine that utilizes the incline function of the treadmill. This was also extremely helpful in preparation. We did it three days a week for forty minutes first thing in the morning. Running had been making my shins hurt, so it was good to stop. The treadmill routine is described in Clarence Bass' book Lean For Life. This provided all the cardio exercise we needed and built up endurance in our legs. Another thing that helped my legs quite a bit was doing lunges with either dumbbells, or a barbell on my shoulders.
In top condition (for us!), we set out for Colorado and spent a couple of days walking around Denver and a day or two at Estes Park to began acclimatizing to the altitude. We had recently modified our plans and decided to do the climb at the first part of the two-week trip rather then at the end so that other hikes did not wear us out. Though this short acclimatization time is a somewhat debatable issue, we firmly believe that it was a wise decision for us considering the difficulty of Longs and the other hikes we planned. The few days before the climb seemed to offer enough acclimatization.
I might add that we thoroughly studied Mike Donahue's book, The Longs Peak Experience and Trail Guide, to learn about the trails, things to look for, be aware of, etc. That was also a good idea. It is a marvelous book, full of rich descriptions, accurate advice, hints, tips, and facts about the mountain, such as a little bit of its history and geology. A very worthwhile book! You can feel Mike's love and respect for the mountain through his writing. I highly recommend it.
Now let me just say right here that no book, video, iMax, this report, or anything else can even begin to convey to you the Longs Peak adventure! I know it sounds trite to say it that way, but you just have to be there. I am certain that every author would agree. This is a truly magnificent mountain! Granted it was my first fourteen thousand footer, but I don't think my opinion will ever change.
Most experts agree that you should plan to leave the trailhead at the ranger station no later than 4:00 AM. Many suggest 3:00 AM so as not to rush. This way, you can summit and be on your way down before the 12:00 PM daily summer clouds start to form and lightening becomes a very real hazard. The Park Rangers said it is about a twelve to fifteen hour trip if you're not an exceptionally fast hiker. We signed in at the logbook at the trailhead and were the first people on the trail at 1:30 AM! We weren't taking any chances! No thunderstorms for us to chase us down before we hit the summit.
When I saw that trail the first time, a transformation suddenly took place within me. I was not there to try to make the summit. We were going to the top! It was not a conscious decision, but a transformation. I can't explain it. The "goal" suddenly became everything. I had not gone insane. If something truly significant had become an obstacle, I would have been prudent. Longs is not a mountain to be messed with. It bites back. But, barring any real problems we were going to make it. I knew it.
The rangers had told us the previous day that they had just opened the Keyhole route the day before because the Trough had only just melted out. Talk about timing! We are not ice climbers, not yet anyway.
So much for my metaphysical experiences. The moon was fairly bright, but folks, this is a forest! The moon doesn't shine through trees. We had little miniflashlights (extra bulbs and batteries), but I had also bought these crazy little chemical lights. You know the ones, where you bend them to break an internal tube and chemicals mix together giving off light for about five or six hours. Would you believe they sort of worked? They were bright enough to sort of light the trail sufficiently to walk. I wouldn't fool with them again, though. Lights are simpler, easier, and brighter. The kind that fits on your head with a headband is best. The obviously seasoned hikers that later passed us on the trail had those.
As per the plan, we started off at a consciously slow pace. The trailhead is over 9,000 feet and it climbs right off the bat. We had read that if you start off too fast, you can use up to two or three times the amount of energy for the same distance than if you went slower for longer time. We anticipated needing our energy later; much later as it turned out.
The walk was cool and uneventful up past Goblins Forest and up to the Alpine Brook crossing where we stopped for our first rest about two hours into the trip. We sipped water very often as a means to help ward off altitude sickness later on. We each had a gallon. I used a camel pack, which seemed to work fairly well for me. A nice light fleece jacket over a polypropylene undershirt kept me warm, but not sweating. A PowerBar and we were on our way. Incidentally, this is where the first couple of hikers passed us. I think they were technical climbers headed for the Diamond.
Soon, it became very noticeable to me that the trees were getting smaller. We were reaching tree line! A little further up and no more trees. All we could see in the moonlight was a vague trail outline and rocks. By now, several more people had passed us. And I thought we were in shape! SEAL exercises and all that. The landscape seemed barren in the dim light. Only on the way down did we learn that it is beautiful alpine tundra with green grass and clumps of tiny, colorful flowers all over the place.
As we made our way up to the Chasm Lake trail junction, I could see clusters of lights behind us off the mountain in small towns for what seemed like forever. My understanding is they are actually Longmont and Denver. We could also see a snake of lights coming up the trail behind us. But the real kicker was the lights we could see way ahead on what we figured must be the trail and the hikers that had passed us earlier. I kept thinking, you mean that's where we're headed?! And it was still way before sunrise.
When we reached the Chasm Lake trail junction and saw the sign that said 4.2 miles to the Boulderfield, I smugly thought, at this rate we're going to be on the top by 8:30 or 9:00. Yeah, right!
At one point a few minutes later on the way to up to Granite Pass, we hit a little stream that crosses the trail. Although, it is not really a stream, it managed to obscure the trail a little bit. We could not see which way to go in the dark, even with the flashlights. It occurred to me that we might have to wait for daylight to see the way! When you see this spot in the light, you say, how could anybody possibly miss the trail? But in our case, it might as well have been the surface of the moon! We stumbled around and ended up not getting off the trail at all. It actually would be difficult to get off the trail at this point, so don't worry if you hit it in the dark the first time. You probably won't even be able to tell where I am talking about.
Soon we were where I had seen the hikers' lights a couple of hours before, so we knew we must be headed the right way. The predawn sky was starting to lighten up a little. We were just below Granite Pass under Mt. Lady Washington and it was about 5:15 AM. We were all set for the incredible sunrise we had read so much about. As the sun first started to peek over the horizon far to the east, the sky in that direction exploded into orange. Unfortunately, the Fun Camera, which was all we brought along because of weight, didn't have the aperture or shutter speed needed for these low light conditions. But, we got a memento anyway. The sunrise was beautiful.
What was even more amazing was to start to see the surrounding landscape we'd been hiking through for so many hours. We were just beneath the switchbacks up to the Boulderfield. A few Elk were silhouetted against the sky on the mountainside above us. We could hear the sound of little brooks that come down from the Boulderfield. The vista on this side of Granite Pass was beautiful as well looking toward Glacier Gorge.
A little further up the switchbacks and there it was, the orange-brown top of Longs with the top of the Diamond just barely in view. What an exciting moment! And it looked so close. A little further on and we saw our first glimpse of the Keyhole. We were making real progress. This is what we had trained for months for. We basically still felt pretty good. I was worried that my back between my shoulders would give me problems as it often had on recent training hikes. My upper back didn't hurt at all to my great relief, but I had developed an intermittent twinge in my lower back that I never had before. Go figure. But I didn't think it was anything that a handful of buffered aspirin wouldn't cure. Or at least I hoped. The aspirin did seem to help it.
Finally, clearing the switchbacks, the Boulderfield was in plain view along with the Diamond, the Keyhole, and the old cable route. Things have a way of looking closer than they are. It was only after we cleared the tent area and started up the boulders for the Keyhole that I really began to appreciate the magnitude of the climb. I could see people ahead of us that didn't seem that far away, and yet they looked so small. This was a characteristic I would see again and again. "Gee, it doesn't look that far, but you can barely see those people!"
The Boulderfield I envisioned before the trip was a flat field, not too long, with lots of four-foot diameter boulders to walk around. Not so! The boulder "field" climbs at least a couple of hundred feet, is several hundred feet long, and most of the boulders you actually walk on and climb over are as large as cars or trucks. The climbing consisted of getting from one to the other and working your way up in the direction of the Keyhole. The actual trail stops at the tents in the campground so you have to make your own way. The steepest part is just below the Keyhole.
Just beneath the Keyhole near the end of the Boulderfield is the tiny rock "cabin", the Agnes Vaille Shelter Cabin, built as a monument to Agnes Vaille and a rescue climber killed during a winter climb earlier in the century. Of course, I had to climb over to it and go in. There was still snow inside. There is really nothing there. I just didn't want to pass it without going in.
Excited about our progress and not particularly tired, we passed through the Keyhole. WOW!!!!!!! Now, people, I like a nice scenic view as well as the next person and possibly more than a lot of people, but I am not easily knocked flat off my feet. The view and scene on the other side of the Keyhole is the first sight I have seen in years that absolutely blew me away! And then some. I simply have never seen anything like that. It was about 7:30 AM, warming up a little, and the infamous Keyhole wind was pretty much calm. We stopped and had about a twenty minute break with a snack just to soak up the view. This is more time than we ordinarily would want to spend on a break, but we just had to do it. I am not exaggerating when I say that my spirits were truly uplifted by this magnificent spot. It is a vision that will stay with me for as long as my memory cells work. I can recall it and the mood of elation that went along with it clearly right now.
As a technical note, most experts advise that this is a good spot to evaluate whether or not to continue to the summit. How is your condition? What does the weather look like? Do you have enough water left, etc.? For us, the sky was clear, the weather great, and I felt like a million dollars! I did not realize that this was the point where my partner started experiencing symptoms of altitude sickness. Neither did she. It is just over 13,000 feet at the Keyhole.
This is the point where you start looking for the little bull's eye targets on the rocks to make your way over toward the Trough on what is known as the Ledges. It didn't look too bad. We must be getting near the top. Oh, look, there are some people waaaaay over there! But I almost can't see them. Gee, that looks kind of far... Uh, huh. The fun begins. Even though from the Keyhole to the summit is only about a mile, it is quite a mile because of the route it covers.
The book said walk slowly at this point. How can you not? This is climbing. Even though the traverse is mostly level with only 50 to 60 feet of up and down altitude change, it is climbing across the side of a mountain! I thought this was supposed to be a "hike!" Oh well, no matter. It's not too difficult. But it wouldn't be a good idea to trip and fall. Some points are a little exposed. Now, for those of you reading this prior to climbing Longs for the first time, do not be put off or worried by my statements. This is not difficult. It is true that you need to be careful, but you are not in eminent danger. I have been in danger climbing before and this isn't it. You'll love it! You just gotta' trust me on this one. The view remains fantastic!
By the way, keep sipping that water. It helps against the effects of altitude. You simply must do this.
Finally, after making our way from bull's eye to bull's eye, which weren't always perfectly obvious (but there are no other ways to go, so you cannot get lost), we were at the bottom of the Trough. I kept looking for what was going to be the route up as we neared the end of the Ledges. Where is this thing called the Trough? As we finally got to the Trough, I could see people further up above us and spotted a couple of bull's eyes. We both looked up the Trough. You mean that's where we're going!? Again, I could see people at what I thought must be the top of the Trough, but I could barely see them! Starting to sound familiar? Later we reread this section of Mike's book. I thought the Trough was a few feet of sort of climbing over some rock between two sides, like a little chimney or something. We seemed to have glossed over Mike's statement that the Trough is Longs Peak's last main effort at trying to keep you from reaching its summit. Whoa!
Okay, we can do this (now the positive self-talk began in earnest; hey, we're going for it!). We just make it up to that first outcropping and go from there. We can do that much. The Trough is pretty steep and has lots of small loose rocks (and large loose ones, too). You have to be very careful while climbing not to knock any rocks loose onto the people below you. You also need to keep an eye out for the people above you. Even though it is steep, it is still mostly walking; not too many places where you have to use your hands in addition to your feet other than for a little extra support. I'm trying to say it is not hand over hand climbing. Just break it down into sections.
We slowly made it to the first goal we had picked. Then picked another goal. A few steps and rest a little, a few steps and rest. I don't recall how much time the Trough actually took, but it was quite a while. You're in some serious altitude here (over 13,000 feet) and you cannot, and should not, try to bound up this part. There was still a pretty fair amount of snow and ice left and we had to negotiate up the side a couple of times which was actually off the "trail" and required a bit of climbing with hands and feet.
Let me make a quick observation about snow and ice in the Trough. We are not talking little patches of snow the size of a little flower garden. We are talking twenty to fifty foot sections ten to thirty feet across that are impassable without crampons and ice axes. So don't even try getting out on them unless you are an experienced snow and ice person, which we were not. You will slide forever! If the rangers say the Trough is closed because of ice, they are not kidding, or overstating the situation.
At the top of the Trough is the spot where you have to use a little hand and foot climbing to get over or around the rock formation separating you from the very top of the Trough. Not too difficult, though, and exposure is fairly minimal.
So, feeling a great sense of accomplishment, and still not too tired (amazingly), we climbed onto the little ridge that leads to the Narrows. WHOA!!!!!! How can the views keep getting even more dramatic than they were before? Now, you're looking south towards, or should I say past, Wild Basin (Ouzle Falls trail and all). What incredible peaks jutting up all over! And it seems even higher than before. Hmmm, the little geographical survey marker embedded in the rock by the University of Colorado School of Engineering many decades before says we're over thirteen thousand nine hundred feet! We must be near the top. Must be just around the corner over there. We were at the Narrows.
My sense of excitement at this time was very high because I knew we were going to make it. I had spent the previous seven months wondering if I could do it. No training I did could simulate Longs because of the combination of distance and altitude. I may be able to do fifteen miles at a thousand feet on trails that climb to maybe two thousand feet in Arizona, but can can I start over nine thousand, climb nearly a mile to over fourteen thousand, and still do fifteen miles (after having gotten up at midnight the night before to get an early start)? Plus we had hiked from Bear Lake up to Emerald Lake the same day we went to bed at 7:30 PM to get up at midnight thinking we would be getting a "night's sleep" before Longs! What's wrong with this picture? We didn't figure that one out until afterwards. Maybe the exercises in that Navy SEAL book worked even better than I thought...
Although it is true that the Narrows skirt a hundred yards or so along the side of the mountain above sheer cliffs, you are not hanging out in space. There is plenty of room to walk. One of the rangers even took a picture of four people standing abreast there and put it in his picture book at the ranger station just to show everyone that it's not that exposed. The most narrow spot is maybe three to four feet. You have to be careful. You are on a mountain, not a hill, at an altitude for which oxygen is required in aircraft. So, yes, there is the presence of danger. I would not be acting responsibly if I didn't express the seriousness of the situation. But, by the same token, I do not want to overstate the risk. I cannot overstate the need to always be careful, but you are safe here unless you are dizzy, weak, or in some other way incapacitated either by altitude or other problems.
They say, please take Longs seriously. It is considered one of the more difficult 14,000 footers. Do your physical preparation, planning, take it easy and you will have an extremely wonderful experience. I will go so far as to say a unique experience. I have never done anything like it. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
As a side note, the rangers' station at the trail head has lots of interesting things to see and useful information. They have a scale model of Longs and Meeker that's great. Most of the rangers, if not all of them, climb the mountain fairly regularly the best I can tell. Ask about a park ranger named Walt. You'll know why I suggest it when you hear what they have to say.
Okay, onward and upward! Working our way across the Narrows, we could not help but constantly study the scenery around us. Every few steps subtley changes the view and what you can see. This part of the "climb" is actually easy because it is all basically level and there is so much to see. But watch where you're going while gawking at the view.
At the end of the Narrows we climbed over the ledge separating us from the Home Stretch!!!!!!!!!! Don't even tell me; another incredible view? Yes, the columns just ahead are extraordinary, nothing else like them on the climb. How can everything be extra-ordinary up here? I don't know. You'll see for yourself when you climb Longs.
I looked up the Home Stretch. Wait, wait, wait. Those are people up there, but I can barely see them. I thought the Home Stretch was some little shot up some granite about the length of a driveway, or something. It is....a Texas driveway! Remember the TV show "Dallas?" And it is steep.
I looked back at my friend and she was actually leaning on a rock with her head buried in her arms. Not good. We had agreed before that whoever was feeling the best at this point would crank up the positive talk to the max. Time to hit the crank. We are definitely going to do this! We have been walking and climbing for just over eight hours and we are NOT stopping twenty minutes from the top! So, I kept saying with a smile, we're here. Just put one foot in front of the other, rest when we have to, and we are going to make it. I felt great!
What I didn't realize was that my partner was having stomach cramps like she had eaten a bucket full of green apples. The kind of intense sharp cramps that double you over. Altitude sickness. And my partner is as careful a planner and as meticulous as they come. She had religously been sipping water every few minutes, gone slowly, eaten carbohydrates and very little fat, and everything you're supposed to do to help prevent it. But sometimes you get it anyway. It comes in lots of shapes and sizes. It had been steadily getting worse ever since the Keyhole.
I have since wondered if pushing hard was the smartest thing to do. What if it had been pulmonary edema instead of cramps? And I'm standing there like some kind of yahoo saying, come on, we can do it, we can do it. I don't know. I know it wasn't worth dying for. Under the circumstances, it worked out for us, and positive motivation is a good, perhaps even necessary thing. But you have to keep your head on your shoulders and respect Longs Peak and yourself. We can still have fun, but we have to remember it is real. As one of the rangers cautioned, "The mountains don't love you. They are lovely, but they can be brutal. They will not cut you any slack."
On a lighter note, just to the right of us on the rocks watching the whole parade up the Home Stretch was a Marmot! What do they find to eat up here? There are nothing but rocks! I guess he, too, had hiked up from lower down to have a day of mountain climbing.
We would take a few steps and rest. Take a few steps and rest. By now, everyone out that day was catching up with us and passing us. We remained true to ourselves, though. We were in competition with no one but ourselves. The fastest climb ever, according to the rangers was a couple of hours, or some crazy thing. Someone ran it! Great. More power to 'em. It doesn't mean we can't climb it in our own time in whatever way we have to do it to get the job done.
We made it. My partner took about seven steps at the top and had to sit/collapse on a rock in pain. I hugged her (hey, I'm emotional at over fourteen thousand feet). What a feeling!
I felt great. Maybe just a touch of headache from the altitude, but not too bad. Not too tired, either. I couldn't believe it (learned something about myself I didn't know). But, the real triumph belonged to my partner. Anybody can keep moving when they feel great. Right? My partner made the last part of the climb in great pain. She kept going. That was real determination. Her accomplishment was vastly greater than mine. I still don't know if I could've done the same thing. Do I underrate myself? Not at all. I respect what I did and am very proud of it. Learned a lot about preparation, goal setting and achievement, etc. I am just saying that she did it when it was much harder for her than it was for me. I respect that. She was in as good or better shape than me. She just happened to be the one to get hit.
We rested, had more water, looked around off the peak in all directions (I think you can see Alaska...just kidding, but it sure seems like it), and signed the registry! I have felt closer to the ground in an airplane. Unbelievable. The view to Chasm Lake is mind boggling. You simply can't believe you're that high. But, what really brings it home and gives you a sense of having truly come a long way is to see where the treeline is. Did we come that far?
It was about 10:30 AM. We had hauled sandwiches and canned drinks all the way to the top and then couldn't eat them! My friend's stomach was just too upset and I didn't really feel like eating either (loss of appetite is another symptom of altitude sickness). We spent about about twenty minutes on the top and right on cue the clouds were forming up a little. Nothing serious, yet, but we still had several hours of walking to get to a reasonably safe spot in the event of a strong electrical storm. No, I hadn't forgotten that we were only half way; still have to go down, remember? But that'll be easy. It's downhill. Yeah, right.
The shortened version of the trip down. (For those of you still with me, all I can say is you must like this kind of stuff! I can recommend a couple of books about hiking you'll really like.)
Do you recall ever hearing that climbing down is harder than climbimg up when doing rock scrambling? Well it is. I was able to stand upright and walk a good part of the way up the Home Stretch. Not so on the way down. I mostly had to sit, scoot, and other graceful forms of motion. If the granite had been wet from a light sprinkle or something, I think we would either still be lost somewhere at the bottom of the mountain, or still be sitting up there! Talk about slick. It wasn't that difficult dry, but even still it took some cautious maneuvering.
We crossed back onto the Narrows and uneventfully made our way over to the top of the Trough. Did you ever notice how things look different on the way down than they did on the way up? We had to do a little planning to figure out how we were going to get down since we weren't positive how we came up. No big deal, but it wasn't a slam dunk. A little ways down the Trough, we climbed off to the side and sat on a comfortable ledge and had our sandwichs overlooking the most beautiful view of Glacier Gorge you could imagine. Like sitting on the wing of an airplane without the wind. We gazed and daydreamed like crazy for a few minutes.
Toward the bottom of the Trough was when I first noticed that I was starting to get tired. I was having to use my hands to lift my leg up on very high steps. But walking wasn't difficult. Surprisngly at first blush, going down is when a lot of accidents occur. Now I could see why. Attention to safety wains a little bit because you think nothing can happen going down, and your strength is diminished as a result of being tired. Be especially aware of safety at this point. The rocks and cliffs are still there! And a rescue would take a long time to accomplish.
I felt it took some work to cross the Ledges and get back to the Keyhole. Once at the Keyhole, we rested and soaked up the last view of Glacier Gorge. A big crow sat on top of the Keyhole rocks and watched.
By this time, some very decent clouds had formed, but were still a ways away from us to the north. On the way down the Boulderfield our legs could really feel it and we were looking for the easiest routes without a lot of high stepping. It seemed like it took forever to get off the boulders. The storm was getting closer. Below the Boulderfield is a bad place to be in a storm because of the exposure.
Soon we were getting hit with sparse but heavy raindrops. The area to the north of us was getting walloped. And there were powerful bolts of lightening in the center of the storm. We stopped and put on all the rain gear. Waterproof pants, pack covers, and our expensive Gortex jackets. Hey I'm into gear! This was a high point. Let that ole' storm come...but you can leave the lightening behind. There was no place for cover that I could see. There may actually have been, but I don't know that much about how to safely ride out lightening.
We never did get hit by the storm. It went to the north and then east of us. Right around us with no more than a few drops. In retrospect I'm glad. Being from Arizona I do not like lightening. I love it from a distance, but Nikola Tesla I'm not!
Back on mostly smoother trail, we started down the switchbacks admiring the little clumps of vivid blue flowers and Indian Paintbrushes. We snacked on Hot Tamales and Dove Darks. What can I say? We're into roughing it! When sugar highs weren't enough, we had a Power Bar and still sipped on the water. My friend was feeling a little better after coming down in altitude (one of the "cures" for altitude sickness). Her stomach was still a bit tender though, so she couldn't eat very much. The problem is you're still burning energy hiking.
We watched the Pikas carry little tufts of tundra grass in their mouths to their burrows stocking up for winter in the very short window of alpine summer. They say one reason not to feed the critters up here is not so much that the nuts and things you give them will hurt them (although some things certainly will), but that it will cause them to not forage enough and they'll starve in winter. The alpine tundra reminds me a lot of the desert. Both are absolutely filled with life, but it really is a finely pitched balance. Not much margin. Lack of water in the desert and extreme cold up here for most of the year. But life prevails. Amazing! Here he goes again....
Okay. Speaking of life, we stumbled onto a Ptarmigan in the trail ahead of us just below the Boulderfield. He had his rock-colored summer coat (which turns completely white in winter). He was funny, digging in the dirt for something, and stayed just a few feet ahead of us on the trail for a while before heading off into the tundra. We'll have to add him to our list of wildlife seen.
Down at Granite Pass, it seemed like we didn't have that far to go. The weather had cleared up and the sky was beautiful. Life was in full swing on this beautiful alpine summer day. Music, please.
Seriously, though, this is a unique landscape that in and of itself is worth the walk and taking the time to sit and quietly watch and learn of things you've probably never had the chance to see before except on TV (or the Denver Museum of Natural History which has incredibly good Colorado exhibits). Of course, we didn't have a lot of time for sitting at this moment because it was becoming increasingly apparent that it was going to take some time to get down from here and back to the parking lot.
Most of the rest of the trip down was a time of reflection on our time spent higher up. We also noted all the things we couldn't see in the dark when I thought it looked like the surface of the moon. We thought when we made the treeline that the parking lot was a couple of turns down the trail. What happened to my mind during the walk up? It took forever getting down! Switchback after switchback, slope after slope! We wanted to stop for a rest, but were seriously afraid we couldn't get started again. So we didn't stop. This really was a matter of just putting one foot in front of the other...over and over.
That was the point where we were getting extremely tired. No blisters or anything like that. Just dead tired, although my friend did have a pretty sore knee from a real good encounter with a rock while descending the Trough. Remember it was getting to be 4:00 or so in the afternoon and we had been hiking or climbing since 1:30 AM that morning. I was sure glad we had put down 5:00 PM as our return time instead of 3:00 like I had originally thought of doing. They wouldn't have had the dogs out looking for us, yet, but we didn't want to cause any serious concern. I don't think the rangers would've been too worried until it got to be hours past our scheduled return. They probably see this kind of thing all the time.
We got through the last mile or so by talking about the trip and what we had seen. It seemed to help take our minds off of being tired. At last we came around a bend and saw the log fence railings and rounded the last corner to the logbook. About 6:30 PM. Seventeen hours! After signing back in, we pretty much dropped into the car and drove alertly (uh-huh) back to the motel. As Mike pointed out in his book, we were amazed at how fast and effortlessly a car could move us!
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Copyright ©: 1999 by David Wilson