One step forward, one step sideways.

"One step forward, one step sideways: 

The story of Mt. Democrat, Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Bross."

The date was September 1st, 2014.  It was Labor Day, and I just so happened to be lucky enough to have the day off from work.  I'd spent half a week planning and packing, in addition to working 43 hours, and had finally decided to hike & climb three 14ers all in one day.  Yes, it really is feasible.  Mt. Democrat (14,154'), Mt. Lincoln (14,295'), Mt. Bross (14,177') are the three mountains which can be done in a day.  It's only a 6 mile loop to gain all three summits, but the terrain is steep, and the weather unpredictable.

I woke up at 3:00 am on that Monday, left at 4:00 am, and started a 3 hour drive west towards Alma, Colorado.  The 3 hour drive quickly turned into a 4 hour drive as I passed over Guanella Pass at 11,670'.  I left the interstate around the Georgetown exit, and turned up the Guanella Pass road, thinking it was a shortcut.  Well shortcuts in Colorado rarely tend to work out, and this one was the opposite of a shortcut.  I drove up to the top of the pass, and parked my car at which point it was already almost 7:00 am.  The scenery was gorgeous, but the winds had started blowing and the temperatures were dropping.  Fall had arrived in Colorado.

After a short break, I drove down the south end of the pass where it intersected with US 285 in Grant Colorado.  This 17 mile part of my journey should have taken half-an-hour at most as the marked speed limit (on what should have been a paved road), was 35 mph.  Well first of all, the road was not paved, it was dirt.  Second of all, the road had giant ruts in it.  Third of all, the road was under major reconstruction.  Last of all, there were loose power lines dangling only a few feet above the top of my Subaru Outback, and sings warning of "Danger low power lines".  All of this equated to driving about 15 miles an hour (20 at the fastest), for the next 17 miles.  The journey to the base of these three great mountains had already started to become a bit of an adventure.

I finally came out the other side of the pass in Grant Colorado at after 8:30 am.  I was tired as my journey of 3 to 3.5 hours had already become 4.5 hours.  So, I took another break, and kept on rolling.  

US 285 was 55 mph, so I made quick time to Fairplay Colorado, where I turned north west towards Alma on Colorado 9.  Once in Alma, the directions in my small 14ers book took me towards a dirt road that headed west directly out of center of Alma.  Thus began driving adventure number two.

I took the forest service road towards the base of Kite Lake for what was supposed to be 3 miles according to my book, but became 6 miles.  The beginning of the road was alright and the posted speed limit was 15 mph, (as for all roads in the town of Alma).  I drove for about to miles and the road narrowed and became much more steep.  There were now ruts and holes in the road (some a foot deep), small boulders to avoid, and closely knit switchbacks.  I kept driving slowing my pace to around 8 mph on average for the last four miles of this road.  Finally, I ended up with the Kite Lake trail head in sight and about 45 other cars parked with their wheels in the ditch up at over 11,000'.  Most of them were either four wheel drive Jeeps, all-wheel drive Subaru's, or at least high ground clearance SUV's.  Although I did see a Toyota Prius up there, and I suppose that person got it back out (I have no idea how!), because it wasn't there later in the day.

It was now about 9:30 am!  It had taken me almost 5.5 hours for what should have been a 3.5 hour drive.  Now I was about ready to start the hike.  

I hoped out of the car, walked up to the trail head to scout things out, and used the privy (as one should do before climbing isolated 14ers in Colorado), and headed back towards the car.  I put in my contacts, donned my Subaru beanie; my Marmot jacket; my Marmot guide pants; my Smartwool socks; my Columbia trail running shoes; my Julbo glacier glasses; and grabbed my Camel back backpack stuffed with rain jacket; Nalgene bottle, Aquamira filter-bottle, survival medical kit, make-shift bear-proof container (filled with high calorie foods such as 7 candy bars, 2 bags of homemade trail mix, and one sealed bag of beef jerky), compass, knife, fire-starter, extra socks, map, and waterproof shockproof camera.  I put on the essential SPF 50 sunscreen (needed at 14,000' above sea level), and set out for the first peak on list, Mt. Democrat, 2,400 + ft above me.

It was 10:10 am, when I left the trail head and started up my Suunto GPS wrist top computer, to assist in navigation and record satellite data about my trip.  I talked with some of the other 30 or so hikers I passed early on, found out where they from, and asked if they had done other 14ers before.  I told them these were going to be my first big mountains this season, but I had stood atop Mt. Elbert, and Longs Peak in the summer of 2013.  The name Longs Peak comes with some healthy respect and interesting looks I found out, followed by questions about the route; the difficulty; and the time it took me.  So, I answered the questions with a shortened version of my trip up Longs back on August 22nd, 2013.  I told them if I could Longs Peak, the 17th most difficult of the fifty-four 14ers, that I figured I could any of them if I so desired.  So why not just knock off 3 in one day.  Sounded like a great idea to me!

I headed up to a "Y" in the trail at 12,800' in the saddle between Mt. Democrat, to the left, and Cameron Point, to the right.  I rested there on a log, removed my glacier glasses, and stared into an old mine shaft.  I snacked on beef jerky, two 3 muskateer bars, half a bag of trail mix, and a pint of water.  You burn significantly more calories at high altitude, because there is significantly less oxygen, and your heart beats much faster with any exertion whatsoever (not to mention I'd already walked up the height of empire state building in less than a mile).  I took the path to the left.

For the next 3/4 of a mile I could see the top of Mt. Democrat.  This is not always the case.  Many peaks have false summits, which make them more psychologically challenging because you think your almost at the top only to see another summit 300 yards ahead and 150 feet above.  I kept walking up Mt. Democrat and saw people up ahead of me on what looked to be the true peak.  As I neared I asked a woman headed down if that was the peak (pointing ahead).  She said yes, and I said, "Oh, I didn't realize I was so close already".  I walked up to the top of Mt. Democrat and immediately was hit by freezing cold gusts of wind.  I climbed up on top of the summit boulder, and then turned around sat down in a man-made wind shelter of rocks piled 3 feet high.  I pulled out my water bottle and drank another 10 ounces, and ate another candy bar.  I took out my Olympus Tough camera and shot some summit photos, among them the classic, "feet dangling over the edge at 14,000' " shot.  I had a group of college girls take summit photos of me, and they handed me their "14,154' " sign for a few shots.  I took some shots of them in return, and sat down and rested for another fifteen minutes as the winds picked up again.

I left the peak soon there after and headed down towards the saddle between Democrat and Cameron Point.  I took a short water break and shot a 30 second video halfway down to the saddle.  The winds were blowing, but the sky was clear.  In another 10 minutes I arrived back down in the saddle.  After about 2 hours and 20 minutes I'd already finished one 14er.  This is going to be almost too easy I was thinking, but in the back of my mind I was still cautious (you never know what you'll run into at 14,000'!).  I took yet another short water break, and started up the ridge to Cameron Point on a well traveled trail surrounded by steep drop offs and loose scree (loose rocks) on all both sides.  Two-thirds of the way up to Cameron Point I encountered a tired looking woman on her way back down from Mt. Lincoln.  I yelled, "How much further is it!?!", through the fierce winds, and she yelled back, "It's quite a bit further!!".  I thought for a minute and glimpsed another man up ahead and to the right in the saddle between Mt. Lincoln and Mt. Bross.  I looked up at a blue sky, and decided to continue on.  If he could I could do it..

I continued forever upwards over several false summits, and started to lose my breath (this will happen the more time you spend at high altitude).  I stopped every once in a while and sat down and rested for a minute or two.  I was walking straight into gale force winds.  It was slow going and for every step forward there one step backwards or sideways.  I made it over Cameron Point and headed into saddle #2 between Cameron and Mt. Lincoln.  I trudged the next 1/3 mile towards the summit of Mt. Lincoln and crossed over a false summit.  The wind had literally knocked me off my feet a few minutes earlier, and I could see the true summit of Mt. Lincoln about 200 yards and 30 vertical feet ahead along an extremely steep approach ridge.  I decided the last 200 yards were not worth being blown down several hundred feet into the unknown below and quickly reversed course.  For every forward there was one backwards.  Maybe today wasn't going to be my day..

With the wind at my back, the gong was easy back down to the Lincoln - Cameron saddle (over 13,000').  When I got to the next "Y" in the path I turned right.  At this point I'd only been on the trail around 3 hours and 40 minutes.  Things were still moving along quickly.  The wind was moving along more quickly.

I headed towards the summit of Mt. Bross, (which cannot be legally reached, due to closure from mining).  I stayed on the path, as the signs stated, and headed along the trail.  The winds had died down and I was a little over halfway around this 6 mile loop, so I decided to go for the last one Mt. Bross.  I hiked along scree, with 85 mph crosswinds in the saddle (gusting even higher), and headed towards the mines at the top of Mt. Bross.  I reached the highest legal point on Mt. Bross, (marked by a sign no-legal summit access), and started the decent towards Kite Lake.  The winds knocked off my feet as I tried to take a "selfie" a little below the no-trespassing sign.  This turned out for an interesting blur of an image (which I saved), and I continued the decent.

As I descended, the cross winds became blocked by the enormous girth of My. Bross.  I thought, "I'm just about home free now!"  This was about 4 hours 30 minutes into the loop.  I had about a mile and a quarter of descent ahead of me.  I continued forward and downward towards Kite Lake and reached the point of a steep ridge.  I looked over and across a couloir (a steep narrow gully on a mountainside), and headed down what I figured must be the path.  I could see two other hikers below and across the couloir.  I started down and felt some lose scree give way beneath my feet.  I kept heading down as this appeared to be the only route.  I kept scrambling down the side of the couloir and all of the sudden I started to slide down on top of loose scree with small boulders rolling behind me.  I stood stock still and just rode it down about 25 feet.  After the miniature avalanche stopped, I realized this must not be the correct route.  I was right in the middle of descending the steep couloir with about 90 feet of loose scree above me and about 90 more below.  So, I gradually crab walked my way down using all four appendages to creep slowly testing my footing and hand placement multiple times.  It was a grueling descent after having been battered by the 85 mph winds on the tops of the peaks.  

Gradually I made my way down the side of the couloir and onto a slightly more solid and defined path.  My knees and arms ached from my descent of the narrow mountain gully.  I had to stop every 10 minutes or so for a short stretch and break.  I realized I was extremely thirsty as I had not thought about liquids or food for a while, (because of the harsh winds, cold temperatures, and steep descent).  I continued down towards the lake which still looked to be about 1,500 feet and 3/4 of a mile below.  As I descended the path became more solid and finely I set my feet on something other than loose scree.  A dirt path with grass and purple flowers on both sides, and a stream feeding down into Kite Lake to the right of the path.  I continued onward and stopped to take an image of a 20 foot waterfall.  Looking down from 1,000 feet above Kite Lake, surrounded by purple flowers and green grass, the going became much easier.  The scenery was gorgeous and a stark contrast to the barren moon-like landscapes on the summits above.  

I hiked down to the trail head for the last 1/2 hour, 1/2 mile.  It was gorgeous and in a zen-like state of conscious-exhaustion I crossed the stream, which fed the lake, and headed back to the trail head.  I looked back many times to my almost disastrous descent of the couloir.  I actually had think whether what I had accomplished was worth braving 85 mph winds, and a disappearing path down the gully.  I concluded that yes it was worth it, and at least 4 other people (two in front, and two behind), had completed the entire loop safely that day. 

Risk is inherent in all endeavors, to live life on the edge is okay, as long as you don't cross over that edge.  Adventure only begins when something goes wrong.  You won't learn a thing about yourself, your abilities, your environment if there is no risk.  Taking precautions and preparing can reduce these risks, but will never eliminate them, and never should eliminate them.  All things considered these were just three moderate 14ers out of 54 in Colorado, whose paths were made for hikers and climbers at or below my abilities.  I just happened to run into a rough spots, but there were more than 100 people at some point along the trail and even though most had turned back I did not regret having climbed three 14ers in under 6 hours.  It was well worth the risk, especially to stand in the purple flowers and beside the 20 foot waterfall on the way down (the most beautiful part of the hike).  Those other 95 or so people missed the flowers and waterfall, and the tops of the second two 14ers.  

"One step forward, one step sideways, but forever onward we toil."  This is life, it's how it was meant to be, tough going, uncertain paths, difficult terrain, and unexpected conditions should not deter us from destinations in the clouds.  

~ Charles N. Whittemore (September 8th, 2014) - recounting the events of September 1st, 2014.

Guenella Pass Summit.

The road on the south side of Guenella Pass.

Up in the saddle between Cameron Point
and Mt. Democrat.

My GPS showing the elevation gains about
 an hour into the hike.

Resting on a log in the saddle on the
way up to Mt. Democrat.

Summit of Mt. Democrat.

Mine in the saddle on the descent
from Mt. Democrat.

Private property sign on the way up to Mt. Bross.

Looking back on Cameron Point and Mt. Lincoln
from high on the saddle of Mt. Bross.

Mines on the side of Mt. Bross.

This is what I look like after being
battered by 85 mph winds for over
and hour. 

Sign at the legal summit of Mt. Bross.

Looking down what appears to be the path
to Kite Lake, but in fact is actually loose scree.

Twenty foot waterfall on the
way down from Mt. Bross.

Looking down the final section of the path
towards Kite Lake and the trail head.

Looking back at Mt. Bross from
the Kite Lake Trail head.

Relieved to be back down at
the trail head sign.  It took
me around 5 & 1/2 hours to
do all three of the peaks, but
it was quite the eventful hike!

Summit

The sky above is dark and cloudy,

The beating of my heart continues,

Oh to feel life’s energy coarse through my veins,

I feel as if I am whole again,

Run and run, up and up,

Into the clouds and fog,

Above the highest trees,

Above the clouds themselves,

Up and up,

There is a curving staircase into the sky,

On to another land, on to another world,

The ropes are hanging from the clouds,

The dream is within, or without?

Climbing up the rope with all my strength,

I come upon what?

I meet myself, staring back,

Through all life I have worked hard,

To what means?

To overcome,

To improve,

To discover,

To create,

To explore!

That the moment has come,

I see my true self,

I climb upon the rope into the clouds,

And look down upon how far I’ve come,

And forever more, I shall remember

Courage,

Strength,

Thought-fullness,

Teamwork,

That is my dream,

Life is a mountain path,

There is no apex, (as Mallory said, "Upward and forever upward.")

There is no limit to the human spirit.

Escape not "from" but "to" reality.

"We need to learn again those essential qualities in our own selves which make us what we are: the energy of our bodies, the alertness of our minds, curiosity and the desire to satisfy it, fear and the will to conquer it.  The mountain way may well be a way of escape -- from the cities and men, from the turmoil and doubt, from the perplexities and uncertainties and sorrows that thread our lives.  But in the truest and most profound sense it is an escape not from but to reality." -- James Ramsey Ullman, in The West Ridge by Thomas F. Hornbein 

The Mist.

“The Mist.”

Lightening in the distance,

Dark clouds rolling in,

We exit through the keyhole;

into the field of boulders.

Plunging downwards towards the base,

no longer can we see.

Behind us is the peak?

Ahead of is what?

Climbing over rough terrain,

becoming disoriented;

Following the path?

Hail falls upon our heads,

small at first.

Coming down faster and heavier!

Quickening our pace;

turning on our headlamps;

but we see only “feet” ahead.

Consider turning back,

to find shelter;

but to no avail.

We are disoriented at the least.

Clouds part slightly,

glimpsing the great peak.

heading directly away from it, hoping the entrance to the field lies ahead.

Again the mist closes in,

the hail begins to fall,

wandering off course…

Must have walked for an hour and a half!!

The clouds begin to dissipate.

Find ourselves halfway up another peak!

But, “There is hope”.

We have glimpsed the path,

and can see where the horses were tied.

We wander in that direction,

slowly, carefully climbing countless four-foot obstacles in our way.

Ten minutes more, and five more after that..

The mist finally parts for good! 

Find ourselves standing near the entrance to the field of boulders. 

Soaking wet, exhausted, but as the scene unfolds we are once again happy. 

Reminded of why men take such risks,

we are standing near a stream of water running downhill, forever..

The grass is dripping with fresh water,

we are standing amongst a blooming field of yellow, purple, and red flowers

at twelve-thousand feet! 

The clouds part further;

we now can follow the path.

Looking ahead we can see for miles! 

Exhausted, but happy, and glad we were that we did not die that day.

Only lost in “the mist”, were we.

- Nick Whittemore

   July 30^th, 2014

---- Based on events on Longs Peak, which happened on August 22^nd, 2013. ----

Before descending from Longs, as the clouds roll in.

"Mountaineers or something else?"

"Mountaineers or something else?"

On the mountain, we are mountain men or "people of the mountain".
On the mountain, we are tied together in the "human element".
On the mountain, our "weaknesses become our strengths". 
On the mountain, we become all that we can be.
On the mountain, our "foes become our friends".
On the mountain, we work together to fuel "our greatest hopes and dreams".
On the mountain, we let the "beast from within" run wild and free.
On the mountain, the true "self" is found.  
Only on the mountain.

We are mountaineers.
We are the people of the mountains.
We are "lovers" of high adventure, and great quests, of great spirits (...), and of great times.
We are "haters of despair and depression and all things negative".
We the mountain people wish "to discover the meaning(s) of life".
We are mountaineers, we follow the footsteps of "the expeditions written in the chapters of history".
We "blaze" new roads of "fire and self-discovery".
Some fall, some die, but we remember them in our hearts as members of "the team".
We are a team which lives to "lead the rest" and discover the unknown.
We are here for each other to, "find our weaknesses and make them our  greatest strengths."

Thus we become "human", or "members of the team." - nothing more and never anything less.


Charles N. Whittemore
July 7th, 2014

"Colorado Tough": A personal recount of the Colorado flood of 2013.

"Colorado Tough", was what Governor Hickenlooper said during his speech after the flood.  The Colorado flood was of epic proportions.  It was a thousand year flood and did an incredible amount of damage to an innumerable number of peoples' lives. "Coloradans are a tough crowd.  We're built differently than other folks.", said governor Hickenlooper, standing there on his crutches.

It's hard to witness something like this.  It's tough to see the town where I've lived for four seasons severely damaged and disrupted.   It was a hard way to finish an overall great season for me in Colorado.  I wish that it would have ended differently..

After it happened everyone in town was in shock.  Estes Park was not hit hard compared to all of the larger cities down in the valley.  The small towns leading up to Estes Park were completely destroyed and might never come back.  The roads leading to and from the were washed out, and so was all of the base below the road.  Huge sections just collapsed and fell right into the river and ended up down river, some quite far away.  Downtown Estes Park was completely washed out, and all of the small businesses were badly flooded.  Places such as Boulder Colorado and many other populated areas right along the front range were badly damaged.  

Many people were stuck in their homes and couldn't get out. Thanks to the Colorado National Guard and the many hardworking volunteers this catastrophic flood was not as horrible as it could have been.  Everyone was thankful for the rooftop rescues which continued for days afterwards, and sometimes longer.  It really was tough to watch, even if the worst was only on television for many of us in Estes Park.  We were without cell service for several days after the flood, and the minute it came online again after a temporary tower was set up a week later, everyone called out to say that we were all okay..  After all the state was declared a federal disaster zone, and people were concerned.

I know that it will be rebuilt and it with major improvements over the old infrastructure after it is finally finished.  I hope that the people of Colorado will remember what happened, and take care of their precious resources, all which come from the mountains; with great care.  

After the flood all of the the temporary seasonal workers were "advised" to leave as quickly and safely as possible.  People come together and listen when catastrophes happen.  It's sad that sometimes it takes an event such as this to get people to listen. All of the employees that had been having the time of their lives in the mountains, picked up and left within a few more days.  We all lost at least a months worth of pay and work, and there was some damage to the property.  We were all the lucky and were the fortunate ones in this case.  

After cleaning up the apartment where I had been living I packed my recently purchased ten year old Subaru Outback with my belongings.  I packed it with the belongings of my sister and two other employees, and close friends, from the company.  The car was so jam packed with clothes, gear, food and suitcases that even though the entire trunk was full; and the backseat partially full; a suitcase still had to be attached with bungee cords to the roof.  We all crawled in with stuff at our feet, and on our laps and set off to get out.  Except that's not what we did..  We set off on a 6,000 mile, 16 day road trip around the western United States.  There's nothing like a great journey to get you back on your feet after a summer ending catastrophic thousand year flood!  That's the way I handled it, put it behind me literally..

Rebuild, remake and re-inhabit we will - but do it wisely.  The canyons where the houses were destroyed - perhaps they should remain empty of human homes and left with only roads for transportation.  Not every corner of the world needs to be civilized.  Some of it ought to be left wild like the tops of mountains, and the areas of the country near, or even below, sea level.  We would be doing everyone a favor in the long run.  The sad part is, many times when a catastrophe happens people rebuild the same infrastructure that was there before, and only with minimal improvements.  What's going to happen in that same place in another 50 years?  Another catastrophe?  Instead I hope that people will think outside the box, "blaze their own path", build it better this time..

~ Nick Whittemore (February 2014)

This was a tough one for me to write, and I've been putting it off for months..  The next post should be a more positive one about the road trip.

The Colorado flood happend on September 12th, 2013.  A great portion of the homes, towns, and roads are already rebuilt.  That's good. :)

The truth behind why: Life is a Mountain Path.

Why is Life a Mountain Path?  Here's why:

1. It's tough.  It's exhausting.  It's possible to completely fail and fall short of your goal and still walk away feeling like it was absolutely completely worth every ounce of effort you put into it.

2. It makes you feel like you're getting somewhere.  There is always foreseeable progress or failure.

3. You learn something new every time.  Something you never expected to learn.

4. Not everyone has the desire to try it.  Not everyone is successful.  It's unique.

5. There is always a story to tell when you come back.

6. It's as close to standing in an alien environment that almost all of us will ever have the opportunity of experiencing.

7. The sunrises and sunsets above tree line are like nowhere else on earth.  The shear beauty sends chills down your spin.

8. There has never been a more effective and perfect analogy to everyday life than the struggles, obstacles, and decision making that are required on a mountain.  Almost immediately it becomes a zen-like experience or sport.

9. It gives you perspective on how insignificant the individual human experience really is, but it replaces that with showing you what we are capable of when we work together in teams.  It takes sacrifice and commitment from every member of that team at every moment.

10.  It's not always fun, but it can be.  When you're finished lugging yourself up to the top, there is absolutely nothing up there but you, your buddies, and thin air.  

11. Lastly, the feeling that hey I did something worthwhile today, it was all worth it.  The feeling that I'm going to sleep well tonight!..  It's unmatched.

~Nick Whittemore 

The 13th of January, 2014.

"Mt. Elbert", my first 14er. The 20th of August, 2013

"Elbert"

The 20th of August, 2013.

I'd been planning it for weeks, a four day weekend from work.  My goal was to do two 14ers in this time period.  The first, Mt. Elbert, on the 20th of August; and the second, Longs Peak, on the 22nd of August 2013.

I got off from work, early shift, at 4:30 PM and waited to go down the mountain to town.  I had spent hours planning this trip during the week, and hours more packing gear and food for it.  I tried to get others to go along, but to no avail.  I guess it didn't sound appealing to climb Colorado's highest mountain on your day off from work.

I grabbed my backpack, my boots and my trekking poles and jumped in the car for a two and a half hour drive southwest to the Leadville area.  I pulled into the parking lot for the trail head to S. Mt. Elbert a little after dark.  I downed a bottle of water to get re-hydrated from the long drive, and laid the seats of my Subaru Outback down.  I crawled into the back with my 3 jackets on, and tried to sleep.  I didn't have a sleeping bag out there in Colorado.  I hadn't needed one.  I spent all of my free days doing long day hikes, and had not yet been camping.  Finally after an hour I feel asleep.

I awoke at 2:45 AM the next morning to the alarm on my phone.  I downed an orange, and a candy bar for breakfast.  I was hungry, and I hadn't even started the hike yet.  I didn't know a whole lot about doing a 14er in Colorado.  Mt. Elbert is one of fifty four 14ers in the state.  It's an uphill battle from the South Elbert trail head at about 9,600 ft. above sea level.  It rises to a maximum height of 14,440 ft. from the top of which you can sea Colorado's second highest peak Mt. Massive 14,421.  The top is about 4.5 miles from this trail head.  There is also another popular route directly to N. Mt. Elbert which is only about four miles.  I didn't feel like climbing over 4,000 ft. up in only three and a half miles, so I chose the S. Mt. Elbert trail.  I also chose it because it is not as popular, or tourist overrun, as the northern trail head..

I started the hike around 3:30 AM.  I turned on my headlamp, and miraculously it worked!  I hadn't tested it out before (not smart), and was thrilled that it worked.  I needed it.  It was a cloudy pitch black night on the 20th of August 2013.  I wanted to give this a shot though.  I had trained by doing three peaks the previous weekend.  The 12,500 ft. Mt. Chapin, the 13,000 ft. Mt. Chiquita, and the 13,500 ft. Ypsilon Mountain.  Chiquita and Ypsilon were my first "13ers", and my first time to have set my feet at that height before.  Chiquita was doable, but once I got near the summit of Ypsilon I started cutting out.  The oxygen level was a lot lower up there.  I honestly wasn't sure whether I'd make it to the top of Mt. Elbert or not, but I had to try I just had to..

Mt. Elbert is supposedly one of the easier 14ers, and I thought it a good place to start in my path upwards to my ultimate goal of the season, Longs Peak.  I'm glad that I gave it a shot.  It was tough, and a good training hike for other tougher peaks. Plus it was taller than Longs Peak (if only by less than two hundred feet), but it was not as difficult.  It was also the highest mountain in Colorado, the 2nd highest in the lower forty eight, and the 14th highest mountain in the United States. Twelve of the thirteen higher mountains are in Alaska.  It is also an ultra prominent peak.  All these things sounded like something to boast about afterwards.  I only slightly underestimated the time and effort it would take to get me there..

Towards the beginning, the trail was fairly easy.  It went up at an extremely steep grade, but no "mountaineering" was involved. There was an actual trail all the way to the top of this thing, or so I thought..

As I gained elevation, the trail seemed to disappear.  All of the sudden it wasn't there anymore.  This had already happened once, down below treeline.  I was hiking up the four wheel drive road, and walked off of it in the dark.  Luckily I found my way back after nearly stepping over a cliff edge, and wandering through the nail ridden remains of some old barn on the side of the mountain.  This time, however, above tree line I kept searching for the trail.  I was the only one doing the south route this particular morning, or at least I was the only one this far along in the early morning.  After a while, somewhere between twelve thousand and thirteen thousand feet, the trail just petered out. I kept on going.  Eventually after looking and retracing steps I just decided to blaze my own path up the mountain.  To me this meant zig-zagging upwards towards something which looked like a ridge about a thousand feet above me.  I had to avoid stepping in holes, or sending stones plummeting down the mountain below me. I did this for about an hour.  During this hour I only gained about 800 feet, I turned my ankle slightly several times, bruised my shins, and scratched up my arms pretty good.  Later I discovered that I had also blackened a few toe nails..  Not bad for blazing my own path though.

Eventually I found the trail again.  Somewhere just below 13,000 feet.  The sun had just come up, and I was sitting on a ledge, the first of many false summits.  I sat down and drank a quart of water, and ate some trail mix I had made.  I watched the sun climb higher in the sky as it was about 6:30 in the morning now. I hadn't talked to, or even seen anyone, since about 6:00 PM the previous day when I stopped to fill my tank with gas on the road out of Estes Park.  Here I was only about twelve hours later, sitting with my legs dangling over the edge of a precipice, watching the sun rise over a lake far below.  It was a really peaceful feeling sitting there all alone 2.5 miles above the ocean..

After a while, I finally got up the nerve to continue onward.  A few hundred more feet above me I connected onto the ridge leading towards the S. Elbert summit.  I slowly climbed to the top of one false summit after another.  It was mentally and physically fatiguing, but the mental part was worse in this case.  Every quarter mile I would gain almost 200 feet in elevation, only to lose it as I had to recede down yet another false summit. Then the whole process would just repeat.  Finally I could see a pole sticking up on a small rocky hill on the ridge.  I made it to the top of the hill and discovered that the pole had t-shirts wrapped around it.  I figure that this must have been the Coloradoan version of the Himalayan prayer flags.  This was the summit of S. Mt. Elbert at slightly over 14,000 ft.  I didn't spend much time here, I wanted to keep going to N. Elbert.

I continued along the ridge, and finally could see curving to the right and rising another four hundred to five hundred feet above; the summit of N. Elbert.  I kept hiking over more false summits, this was getting old at this point.., and finally I made it to the base of this final hill.  I was exhausted and could hardly breath, but I kept going.  I wanted it bad.  Also, I still hadn't talked to anyone for almost fourteen hours.  I longed for some company on my adventure.  I could see people already at the top.

It ended up taking another half an hour to make it to the top.  It was around 8:30 AM when I finally set foot on the highest spot in Colorado.  I think it was well worth the trouble.  I could clearly see to Mt. Massive, and many other neighboring peaks.  Some of these others were also 14ers.  I could for tens of miles into the distance.  It was incredible!  Once I read in a history book, about first peoples in America, the quote, "When I was a boy the old chiefs used to say, as soon as you climb a high mountain, the highest you can find, do not stop halfway and look back. Climb till you reach the top. There you can breathe deep and look into all the valleys. Then you can say, 'I have seen.'" I think that's how I felt at that instant, at the top of my first 14er, even if it wasn't my most difficult mountain.

At the top, there was a family of hikers.  They all looked to be in incredible physical condition.  Here I was a flat-lander, from Indiana.  I could hardly breath, or say much more than, "hi..", between gasps of air.  There must have been a difference between myself, who had stayed in Colorado for about three months; and those that had lived their lives there.  There must be something different in their blood, some type of super-human lung capacity which I could only dream about.  Finally after resting for ten minutes or so, I asked one one of the women if she would take my picture holding up the, "Mt. Elbert: 14,440", sign.  She gladly obliged.  Then I scarfed down another cereal bar, and drank another half-liter of water.  I was off on my decent down to the N. Elbert trail head.  I had decided upon descending to the north trail head, because it was shorter.  I knew that I'd have to hitch a ride back to the south trail head.

This route, was simpler.  It was also much steeper.  Already I was exhausted, but I made good time.  The trail was so steep, that I almost slipped and slid down the mountain several times. At least there was no technicality, or hands and feet climbing needed.  Eventually I made it down below tree line on the other side of the mountain.  I rested again just below the trees for some water and an apple.  Some of the people from the summit passed me by at this point.  I kept going down, and at around 11,000 feet I came to a fork.  The main trail just ended and merged with another trail.  The sign pointed up to where I came from, towards the north summit.  Having not come this way, this was of no use to me.  Which way was I supposed to go, now that I was here?  One direction led to the parking lot.  The other led towards who knows where. I chose the left trail..

Here I admit was my second major mistake of the day.  The first dumb mistake was, "blazing my own path" eight hundred feet up earlier that day when I day lost the trail.  Looking back on that, I already decided it was a foolish idea.  I was out there by myself, and I didn't have a climbing helmet.  I could have slipped and fallen.  That was unlikely, but certainly possible. My second major mistake of the day was going left on this trail. I walked for about twenty minutes, thinking that I must be nearing the parking lot.  Well, it turned out that I actually was heading back towards the S. Elbert trail head, the long way.  I met someone after I crossed a bridge on a creek.  He was filtering water from the stream and had a backpacking pack on.  I sad hello, and kept walking.  After another five minutes the trail seemed to be going up.  At this point I wanted to be going down towards a parking lot.  This was a problem..

I retraced my steps across the bridge and eventually caught up with the backpacker.  He said that this was a portion of the Colorado trail - a five hundred mile long backpacking trail - and I said, "Okay, so I was going the wrong way?"  He said, "Yes". As a man, it's sometimes incredibly difficult to ask for directions, and even worse to admit that you were wrong.  I'm glad that I asked though.  I hiked the half mile back to the sign which pointed up towards the Elbert summit.  I took the other path this time..

I walked about a quarter mile down this path, I had lost about 40 minutes going the wrong way; and the relatively flat trail started to descend rapidly again with a significant number of short switchbacks.  Eventually I came out at the bottom.  Instead of ending up at a parking lot, I was at a bridge crossing a creek.  I walked across the bridge and came out on a road.  There were two directions to go.  Not again!  I went left..

Well..don't go left.  I walked about a third of a mile and ended up in a parking lot.  The only problem was there were only two cars in the lot, and the sign read, "Mt. Massive Trail head". Crap.....  I waited..  I was out of water.  Not good!

Eventually someone came down to the trail head.  It only took about twenty minutes.  I was lucky.  I admit it.  It was a woman with her dog.  I told her that I was lost.  She gave me some water from a bottle in her car to refill mine.  I asked for a ride.  She asked where I came from.  I told her that I'd started at the S. Mt Elbert trail head at 3:30 AM that morning.  I'd hiked to the top and down the other side; over the entire ridge line.  Accounting for the mile and a half of wrong turns, I'd probably hiked 12 miles.  It was now 2:00 PM.  She told me a story that she'd been lost on Elbert last year with her boy friend.  She said that they had been lost for hours upon end. They had even called the forest service for rescue.  The reply that they had given her was something like, "Sorry mam, we only help hikers that are in danger, not those that are just lost". She got in a thunder storm, but was below tree line at that point.  They'd spent fourteen hours being lost.  Eventually they made it back.  She sympathized with my story.  That was not my strategy, but it worked.  I guess sometimes it might be alright to admit that you were lost.  Being a man, I would only only resort to admitting this, 'mistake' as a last resort.  She offered me a ride.

Twenty minutes and a fifteen mile car ride later, I was back at the South Elbert Trail head.  There my car was, all alone now, sitting right where I had left it.  I rested and changed out of my smelly socks and shirts, and climbed into the car.  I drove back to the town of Leadville.  Before I knew it I was on the other side of Leadville.  I hadn't passed a whole lot of restaurants along the way.  I was famished!  I stopped at the only nearby station, filled up the gas tank, and bought a quart sized Gatorade.  14ers call for massive amounts of food and liquid to replace all the calories that you burn during the climbs.  I drove back into town and stopped at the subway.  I purchased a foot-long sub and packed it with as much meat, cheese and vegetables as possible.  Two thirds of it was gone within six minutes, along with a bag of chips and half of the quart-sized Gatorade.  I had meant to take a picture of my scrumptious sandwich, but now there were only a few large bites left.  I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a photo of the remnants of the once great sandwich.  I texted the photo to my mom, "Hi mom! I made it to the top of my first 14er today.  This was my victory sandwich".  The rest was gone in another three minutes, and I commenced upon my 2.5 hour car-journey back to Estes Park. "..Upward and forever upward..", on to the next challenge.

~Nick Whittemore 

View from 12,000 ft.

Second old nail-ridden barn 12,400 ft.

Foot Dangling 13,200 ft.

"Feet" Dangling 13,700 ft.  Ridge to S. Elbert.

Summit 14,440 ft.