Someone asked me recently to explain why I hike/climb mountains.
I care about the person who asked me, and the answer is not so simple, so I bought time by asking her if I could email her later. That was maybe a month ago.
I've never written a trip report before. But I'm not like Anton Krupicka or some of the other Colorado demigods who have silver tongues and readily available answers. I'm afraid this will be inadequate as well, as it's my first-ever trip report. But I think it's easier to explain why I hiked Mount Elbert on July 3 of this year than it is to explain why I enjoy mountaineering generally. So if you're reading this, please forgive my stultified attempt.
I didn't grow up in Colorado, and I don't live in Colorado now, both of which are major regrets. I have lived in Denver twice, and desperately am working to get back again, though it is taking more time than I'd like. I just took a job in Orlando covering SEC football, and negotiated to live in Colorado from February to July as part of my contract. But after moving between states 13 times since 2007, I badly want to extend that to more of a full-time basis and settle down in the one place that feels like home to me.
This time I moved from Memphis to Orlando, having vacated Denver in October. Months after a disastrous end to a relationship, which wrecked my finances and my emotions, involved physical abuse from my significant other and ended when she ran off to Utah with a Mormon (that's leaving out most of the painful details, if you can believe it), I was juggling five part-time jobs working 110 hours per week. I had left an NFL public relations job in San Diego the year before solely to pursue my mountaineering goals. I had a key role in a startup website that I hoped eventually would give me a super flexible schedule to pursue the mountains, I wasn't making enough income in its early stages, so I had to supplement with a variety of bizarre part-time jobs. I totaled my car, my roommate sold his house and I was past the verge of physical and emotional breakdown.
So I moved to Memphis, planning to recoup at a relative's house and return in six months. In the meantime, I didn't have the money to register my new vehicle at the DMV before I left Colorado. Also, the dealership conveniently didn't tell me the service plan rolled into my financing including free oil changes and maintenance isn't valid in most states outside of Colorado and Arizona. To top it off, one of the aforementioned part-time jobs did not pay me more than $2,000 in earnings.
So I got home at 11 p.m. on a Monday night in Memphis, due to start my new job the following Monday in Orlando. On Tuesday, I drove 17 hours out to Denver, arriving at a friend's couch about 2 a.m. Wednesday morning. I woke up in time to leave the house before 8 a.m. and spent the day filing a claim in Boulder, finding a process server, getting my free car maintenance and getting my vehicle registered. (Ironically, my drive-out tags expired in October, but I never had an incident. As soon as I got the real tags, I got pulled over.)
I stayed up talking to my friend and then tossing around in his bed, which he gave me instead of the couch, until about 11 p.m. This was Wednesday night. Keep in mind Orlando now is a 29-hour drive away, I haven't packed a single possession in Memphis, and I still need to find a place to live in Orlando, preferably before I start work in four days.
Of course, my secret motivation for going to Colorado at all was to squeeze in a 14er. It's the only chance I had to bag one all year. So of course I dragged myself out of my friend's bed at 1:45 a.m. and drove to Leadville. Two months earlier, I had dropped 45 pounds and gotten down to my high school weight of about 167 (I'm 6 feet tall). I ran Division I track in college, but despite numerous attempts, my high water mark since then has been 2.5 miles per day running, which I hit in May. In spite of that, two months of fast food and working as a car salesman (don't ask) had me a little bloated and out of shape. Plus, I was pretty exhausted and also not acclimated to altitude. So I figured Elbert was a good peak to attack. I've done the entire front range as far as 14ers go, and Elbert is a fairly close trip from Denver in addition to being a simple hike.
It also briefly intersects with the Colorado Trail. I am obsessed with breaking the unsupported CT speed record within the next couple of years, so that was an added bonus for me.
I don't remember what time I arrived at the trailhead. I think it was between 4 and 5 a.m. MT. All I know is that I didn't have much use for a headlamp after the first two miles, and the sun broached the horizon long before I reached the summit.
I think one of the most rewarding things about being in the mountains is getting up early enough to have the summit all to myself for the sunrise. If you are not interested in reading about others' theology, then skip this paragraph. I happen to believe in God, though I am not a Bible-beating Christian. But it's impossible to extract my experience in the mountains from my faith. There's something about watching the explosion of colors interrupt thousands of stars. Something about the stillness and peacefulness of it all. Something about appreciating the beauty of one of those solo sunrises. About working and planning to get one. Something about it feels like the most authentic kind of worship I have ever experienced. I sit and listen to the wind in awe of the God capable of creating such a masterpiece and wonder how great He must be. To me, church doesn't compare.
I'm one of those people who doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin. Although I'd like to think I've moved past the stage of being socially awkward as a teenager, due to lots of practice and professional demands, my self-confidence still barely registers. I've always felt more comfortable in the dark and alone, when people can't see me and analyze all my flaws. Something about being on the move, driving or walking, is soothing to me. It quiets my mind and brings me a peace. Also, the repetitive monotony of a long journey slowly drains me of energy my brain has available for anxiety.
I didn't realize it at the time, but Elbert is 4,700 feet of elevation gain in 4.5 miles. In other words, it's super steep. I summited without incident at about 7 a.m. And my rubbery legs paid for it on the way down. With each step, my muscles braced against the slope, lest I break into an all-out sprint due to gravity. But maybe at about 12,500 feet, each leg began to lock up completely. I felt my quads, hamstrings and calves cramp all at once.
I felt secretly miserable as I forced a smile through gritted teeth at the long train of people bound for the summit. I was wobbling side to side with my legs locked straight, sometimes yelping in pain, waiting for the throbbing cramps to subside long enough to take another step. At one point I began to feel a slight panic. The thought crossed my mind: Are you seriously going to have to get help, or at least stop and rest for a couple of hours, in order to make it off the mountain? My legs were past the point of giving out.
At no point was I in any sort of real trouble, and I wouldn't have been no matter what happened. But it was a good reminder that even the simplest of 14ers are worthy of respect and a healthy fear.
I made it back to my vehicle somehow and stopped by Crave Burger for a large order of fried pickles, a Luther with fries and a giant milkshake. Then I managed to drive all the way to Hays, Kan., on disastrous legs. The next morning I drove back to Memphis, arriving at about 11 p.m. Friday. I packed all my stuff Saturday and completed a 12-hour drive to Orlando, arriving at 4 a.m. Sunday morning, more than 24 hours before I started my new job.
I guess there's something to the "want what you can't have" refrain. I find myself fantasizing about 14er summit No. 22 constantly, and thinking about how to get back to Colorado. Having gone through avalanche certification and other courses, I'm ready to start mountaineering outside of summer conditions. I'd love to add another 10 peaks to my list on my next stay in Denver, but more than that, I'd love to finally call the state my permanent home.
Hiking is different than climbing, and I enjoy both. Not to sound intentionally corny, but there's something purifying about the long slogs. I got off the mountain that Thursday and the aforementioned girl told me I was happier. I don't know how sometimes a draining physical effort can energize me. In terms of physical accomplishment, what I did wasn't spectacular. I passed a nine-year-old on his way to the summit. But somehow I feel more confident after a descent, as if I've become a person I can be more proud of.
I turned 28 just a few days after my Elbert hike, but I've visited nearly 40 states and seen a majority of the country. To me, there's nothing more gorgeous than being on top of one of Colorado's tallest peaks. The views, the wind, the stillness, the peace.
I suppose it's a selfish endeavor, really. But I do think it helps me worship my God and makes me a more tolerable, centered, giving human as well.
There's really nothing else in life that makes me feel completely at peace. And I guess that's why I do it.
Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):
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