My dad and I slept in the truck and started up Princeton from the 2WD trailhead at midnight.

Why such an early start? My dad’s the first to admit he’ll never be the fastest guy on the mountain, and we both love the experience of watching the sunrise from above tree line.

Anyway.

The first few miles went well. We made it to the radio towers much faster than we thought we would, discussing most of the way whether or not my 2WD Tundra could’ve made it (“Yeah, probably, but I’m glad we didn’t try. Look at how narrow this road is.”)

Beyond the towers, things continued to go well, though my dad started feeling the uphill and the thin air. (“I’m from Arkansas. I breathe water.”)

Perhaps the highlight of the hike came as we were ascending the switchbacks above the towers.

Arkansas night skies just don’t look like those in the Rockies. Only on our fourteener adventures do we actually *see* the Milky Way. And this was the first time we’ve ever rounded a corner and walked straight toward the Big Dipper. It was so bright and clear, my iPhone almost did it justice.

After the Astronomy Switchbacks, we spotted the trail junction easily enough and stopped for a break.

And this is where things started getting... rocky. Literally and figuratively.

I handled the hike fine. I found Princeton to be the most maddening of the 20+ high mountains I’ve hiked/climbed, but it never came close to defeating me.

For my dad, though... the never ending scree slog and talus hopping that Princeton becomes after the trail junction, combined with some persistent and very cold wind gusts... it all proved to be too much.

By the time we were on the ridge, my dad was done. He told me to bag the summit, and he’d wait at the saddle. (“My legs feel weak, and we’ll be on this thing till sunset if I keep going. Go on.”)

So, with decent cell service and a planned rendezvous point, I continued.

The Good: I made it, and those views of Antero are outstanding.

The Bad: The Princeton Slog caused my 68-year-old dad to declare his retirement from fourteeners after a good ten-year run; he’s gotten a lot of them. And I will say: that summit ridge is like talus hopping on a treadmill. The final push to the summit seems to never get closer. I indeed found Princeton to be a slog, and I declare it my least favorite of the Sawatch range.

But it’s a beautiful peak from below, and I’m proud to say I got it.