DISCLAIMER: This is a story about my past few days at the Kit Carson Massif. I am uploading it from my phone. The focus of this "report" is not on the particular details of the climb, but rather a story about the people I met up there and the conversations/experiences we had. If you end up reading to the end, leave a comment if you enjoyed it, or if you think I'm a pompous know-it-all ;)

I arrived with my van in Crestone, Colorado in the late afternoon of August 11th, 2022. While plodding up Galena Avenue, I debated to myself on whether I should find a camp spot somewhere along the road below the Willow Lake Trailhead or if I should commit to driving all the way up and find a space at the main parking lot. I have visited this trailhead several times before. Beginning in the fall of 2016, I would frequent the town of Crestone to make attempts at the summits of Challenger Point and Kit Carson Peak in both summer and winter conditions. While dodging small rivets and potholes on the road, I recounted memories of the area with varying degrees of fondness, but most notably I recalled a successful climb of Challenger Point in February of 2017 that culminated in an 18-hour ordeal that left me completely exhausted, dehydrated, and badly sunburnt. As my mind raced back and forth between the details of the trail, the massive, snow-covered North Slope of Challenger Point, and the exposed summit ridge which drops off nearly 6000 feet directly to the neighborhoods south of Crestone, I suddenly recalled the nature of the trailhead itself. “That whole parking lot is on an incline,” I thought. “It would be more practical for me to park down here so I can cook, prepare, and sleep tonight on a level surface.”
I backed my van into one of the many pullouts along the right side of Galena Avenue, facing back down the road so I could open my side door and take in the sight of the mighty Kit Carson Massif while I cooked food for the hike and prepared my gear. The original plan was to wake up in the early hours of August 12, hike to Willow Lake at an easy pace, ascend the North Ridge of Kit Carson Peak as I had done in the fall of 2017, route-find through the steep rock ribs of Columbia Point to its 13,980’ summit, backtrack and go up and over Kit Carson Avenue, ascend the short but punchy hike to the summit of Challenger Point, and finally descend Challenger’s North slope and hike the trail back to my van. Once stopped, I hopped out and stretched, snapped some pictures of the area, then blankly stared up at Challenger Point and Crestone Peak. The Sangre de Cristo Range possesses a uniquely quiet, lonely, and stoic presence. The mountains here seem to “speak” in a way that others do not, although I can never quite understand what they have to say other than, “We are here.” I got back in the van, fired up my camp stove, and started cooking some steak and eggs, which I would make into sandwiches for the next day’s climb. While the meat was cooking, I turned on a podcast talking about the benefits of the ketogenic diet and pondered for a moment if I should include the bread and Clif Bars I originally intended on packing. “Ah whatever, I can try this keto thing some other time,” I thought as I stuffed the bars into the bottom of my bag. I then switched off the podcast and turned on some music. As the sun faded over the San Luis Valley, I texted my mom the plan for the next day, set my alarm for 2am, and went to sleep.
I awoke to sunlight shining through the roof vent of my van. “Uh-oh,” I jolted awake and rolled over to check the time on my phone. It read “6:47am”. “Shit! Uhh, okay, alright, what now?” I sat up with squinted eyes and rubbed the back of my neck for a moment, kicking myself for sleeping through the alarm and most certainly losing an entire day in the mountains due to a silly mistake. I hopped down from my bed, threw on a t-shirt and opened the side door. The sun had already risen over the mountain and was beaming down in my face. I wiped my hand over my eyes, wondering if it was feasible to still hike to Willow Lake this morning as an acclimatization exercise, then possibly hike back down and try for the Kit Carson “grand slam” on the 13th instead. “Ya know what? This would be a good opportunity to try out my new tent and sleeping pad.” Plans had changed, but I was not giving up. What was going to be a one-day-mega-hike was now a more reasonably-paced two-day adventure in which I would stop and rest at Willow Lake on the evening of the 12th and tackle the Kit Carson Massif on the 13th. “I’ll definitely have more energy tomorrow morning,” I reasoned. “So I’ll have a nearly guaranteed shot at summiting all three peaks of the massif tomorrow, provided I can actually get a few good hours of sleep in my tent at the lake.” Immediately, I was excited by the new plan. “This way, I’ll be able to just chill at Willow Lake for a few hours, rather than just marking it off as a checkpoint as I’ve done before.” I had to re-pack all of my things. Rather than going ultra-light with just the bare essentials, (mainly snacks, water, and extra clothes), I now needed all of my camping/sleeping gear and multiple days-worth of food, which amounted to about 55lbs of equipment jammed in my huge red multi-day hiking bag.
After all my things were put away in a safe place so as to not fall over and cause damage inside my “house”, I pulled out of the parking spot and started driving the remaining distance to the trailhead. As the road got steeper, the tires on my front-wheel-drive van began losing grip on the dry, sandy surface. Crawling along at about 5mph, I nervously hopped up and down in my seat, urging the van forward. “Come on! We can make it!” As I reached the crest of one of the steeper sections, I spotted a white minivan stopped on the road about 100 feet ahead. The driver threw his hand out of his window, motioning for me to pass. “There’s no way I’m getting this lumbering beast around them safely,” I thought. “I have to stop here until they get moving again.” I waited for about half a minute before I saw the brake lights go out on their vehicle, and watched them continue on around a corner. About five minutes later, I arrived at the Willow Creek Trailhead, and observed there were no apparent vacant spots to park. I pulled over next to the public restroom on the right side of the lot, yanked on the parking brake, and switched the engine off. “This should be fine,” I reasoned. “Everyone knows the trailheads get crowded in the summer. There’s still plenty of room for folks to drive in and out of here.”
Before exiting the van, I maneuvered back to the living area to grab my bag. In my mind, there was no time to waste. I needed to hit the trail and make up for my mistake from an hour ago. As I threw my bag over my shoulder I remembered, in fact, that I have plenty of time to accomplish today’s goal. “Just take it easy, man. You’re fine.” When I opened my door, I noticed the white minivan parked directly across from me, and saw four men conversing while pulling their hiking gear from the back of their vehicle. Only one of them seemed to look like the “mountain-climber” type. He was bald and had a thin, athletic physique. He stood upright with his shoulders back as he walked across the parking lot. His chin was pointed slightly upward, and he had a stern yet inquisitive look on his face. I reasoned he might be the leader of the group, who had dragged his buddies along for a hiking trip that they may otherwise not even consider partaking in. “Good morning,” I calmly uttered as I waved in his direction. “Good morning!” he triumphantly responded as he made his way for the signage at the east end of the lot. A second guy, who had his hair tied up in a bun and was dressed in pink shorts and a blue jacket, noticed me while I was double-checking my bag. “Is that your rig?” he asked me. “It is!” I responded. “Nice man, that thing is clean.” “Thank you,” I replied. “I don’t know if it has any business being up here. I barely made it up that road. I kinda wish I had a 4x4 van.” “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said. “We were slipping out on that road too. We saw you and thought you might have wanted to pass us.” “Are y’all headed up to Willow Lake today?” I asked. “Yeah, man,” he responded with a bit of shakiness in his voice. “We’ve never been here before, so I’m not sure how it’s gonna go. Have you been here before?” “I have been here a few times,” I responded, without trying to seem too confident. “The trail is somewhat steep in the beginning, then it levels off and even has some downhill sections in the middle, then it gets really steep again as you approach the lake.” “Alright, cool, thanks,” he nodded. “For sure,” I replied. “I’m headed to the same place, so I might see y’all up there.”
About an hour passed before I finally stepped off on the trail. I realized I was not properly hydrated, so I stayed in the driver’s seat of my van, sipping on water and scrolling through social media. “I’ll start at 10:00am,” I reasoned. “It should only take me about three hours to reach the lake with all this gear.” At 10:01am on Friday morning, I finally began my on-foot adventure. The first hour of the hike is a boring trudge through the forest, as is common with nearly all 14er treks, with about 20 switch-backs that meander up the side of a ridge which conceals any views of Challenger Point and the surrounding area. I carried my steel water bottle in my left hand, and just let my right hand freely swing while I hiked up. “I want to just pace myself so I don’t have to take any breaks. Let’s see if I can make it to the lake without stopping at all.” Sweat began to drip down my face as I reached the top of the ridge and was greeted with the familiar sight of Challenger’s west flank: a fantastically tall and steep conglomeration of silver pillars and buttresses that jut out at varying angles towards the sky, resembling a huge, ancient porcupine. The trail winds downhill for a short distance while a large meadow on the right greets you and signifies that you are now leaving “normal” Earth. From here on out, you are in mountain territory. As I continued moving east towards the mountain and neared the half-way point, I passed the group of four whom I briefly met at the parking lot. Two of them were sitting on a rock on the left side of the trail, sipping on their water bottles. The other two were standing on the right side of the trail with their hands on their hips, their packs grounded, visibly trying to catch their breath for a moment. “We’re getting close,” I sheepishly said as I intercepted them. “Well, uh, close-ish.” They all let out a quiet, exasperated laugh from behind me as I continued on.
The rest of the hike to the lake went without incident. I began feeling the effects of altitude as I passed through the rocky, exposed switchbacks directly at the base of the west end of Challenger. After arriving at the lake, I spotted a nice, private spot for my tent on level ground. I went down to the spot, threw my bag on the ground, unpacked, set up my tent, and inflated my sleeping pad within a matter of minutes. Once everything was set up and all my gear was stowed away, I checked my phone. “No service. Damn,” I thought. “That’s fine, I guess, but I thought I had cell service when I came up here a few years ago.” I sat on a large rock overlooking the lake for about an hour while drinking water and looking around. The waterfalls at the east and west ends of the lake emit a constant, soothing roar. “That should be nice tonight,” I thought. “It will help me sleep and alleviate the tinnitus I got while I was in the Army.” The sun was still high in the sky, so I thought it would be a good use of my time to hike up to the north end of the lake and catch a glimpse of the Kit Carson Massif in the afternoon light and snap some good photos. While hiking up and around the lake, the final objective presents itself. Kit Carson Peak rises dramatically above the upper basin. Its distinct north ridge leads directly to the 14,167’ summit and sits above a large group of cliffs and a boulder field which appears to consist of rocks that may have, at one point, been attached to the mountain itself.
I sat on a rock for 30 minutes or so before heading back down to my camp spot. I spotted a hiker on his way down, taking a short break while sitting on the side of the trail. “How ya doin’?” I asked as I approached him. “I’m good dude, ready to get outta here!” He responded. “Did you make it to the top of something today?” I asked. “Nah dude, I got lost somewhere up there and decided to turn back.” “Where were you trying to go?” I pressed him. “Well, I think me and my buddies were trying to climb Challenger, but we got in those cliffs over there and I got totally wigged out and decided enough was enough, ya know?” He replied as he stood up and threw his bag back on. “Wait, where are your buddies then?” I asked. “They’re still up there somewhere,” He pointed at the north slope of Challenger. “Ah, okay,” I said. “So they’re going to come down and meet you here at the lake?” “Yeah dude,” he replied as we started walking down the trail. “Those guys are way better at the climbing stuff than me, and they got way ahead of me so I just yelled at ‘em at one point and turned around.” “So they know you turned around you’ll meet them at the lake?” I continued asking, trying to gain some assurance that he and his group had communicated some sort of plan. “Well, I don’t even know if they know I turned around to be honest. I yelled at ‘em but they didn’t respond, probably because they were already so high up. They were climbing cliffs and shit dude. They’re crazy!” “Well, I hope they’re doing alright,” I added. “It’s definitely not good to separate like that and not know where or when y’all are gonna meet up again.” “Oh yeah, they’ll be fine,” he confidently stated. “They do this climbing all the time. We’re all camped out at the lake so I’ll just wait for ‘em there.” For the rest of the short walk back down, we chatted a little about the mountains and I told him about the “proper” route up Kit Carson Peak, which I reasoned was where they were actually trying to climb based on what he told me. “You’ve got to hike all the way through that boulder field,” I pointed out, “Then you turn around and gain the ridge of Kit Carson from the east side.” “Ahhh okay,” he said. “See I think that’s where we went wrong, because we just went straight for the ridge and got in those cliffs there at the bottom. It wasn’t fazing those guys though. They were also talking about some couloir but I have no idea ‘cause I didn’t see it.” At this point I was trying to contain my frustration. If these climbers are so advanced, why would they bring along a guy who wasn’t ready for it? Why weren’t they all on the same page about exactly where they were going? Why did they leave him behind? Why didn’t they communicate a change in plans? There were so many unknowns that sprung up so quickly. I thought about the probability that an accident could occur for them at this point, but reasoned that they probably would get down safely. It was already late in the day, so they were likely on their way down. Perhaps they actually did know that their friend turned around and thought he would be fine since they really hadn’t entered the “dangerous” part of the climb yet. When we got back to my tent, I gave him my best wishes and sent him on his way. “Nice meetin’ ya dude! Have fun up there tomorrow!” He signed off as he hiked over a rock and disappeared from sight.
I checked the time on my phone: “5:12pm”. “Alright,” I thought. “I guess I’ll stretch out for a while, eat some food, dip my feet in the lake and just wait for the sun to set.” I wanted to get an early start on the massif the next day. Maybe not as preposterously early as 2:00am, though, so I set my alarm for 4:45am. Just as soon as I set my alarm, I looked up and saw the group of four guys from earlier appear over the rock leading down to my camp spot. “Ya made it!” I yelled. “Hell yeah we did, sheesh!” the largest member of the group responded happily, but with just enough breath to vocalize at all. I stood up and went back out to the lake to dip my feet in the water while they walked down to the area to set their things down. I sat for a few minutes before the “leader” called out to me. “Is that your tent?” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. “Is it cool if we set up here?” “Sure, the more, the merrier,” I said, trying to sound optimistic and conceal my sarcasm. I was still thinking about the potentially disastrous outcomes that can arise when climbing in large, unprepared groups. I had no qualms about these guys camping within close quarters, though. They seemed cool.
I went back to my tent to grab my water bottle and sit on a log, facing the gentlemen as they unpacked. The “leader” came over to me with his hand stretched out. “My name’s Nick,” he said. I stood up to shake his hand. “Nick? Hi, I’m Landon,” I responded. I then introduced myself to the group. Franklin, the guy who commented on my van earlier, shook my hand and then pulled back a little. “Damn dude, you’ve got a strong handshake! I wasn’t ready for that,” he joked. Next, I dabbed up Jesus, the largest member of the group. “How long did it take you to get here, man?” he asked. “From the trailhead, about three hours,” I replied dryly. “What!?” Jesus yelled. “It took us seven hours to get up that damn trail!” He and Franklin burst out into laughter. “How old are you?” Jesus asked me. “I’m 25,” I said as I pulled my vape from my pocket to take a hit. “This dude is 25!?” Franklin exclaimed. “Bro, you’re built like you’re still 18. And you vape!? I’m telling y’all, the people out here are crazy.” I laughed and looked down at the ground. “Yeah man, but I’ve been hiking for a while now. Your body gets used to it over time.” “I vape too,” said the final member of the group, Jace, a short, stocky man with diamond earrings, rose-tinted sunglasses, and a carefully manicured face. “See, we were warning him about that vape at altitude,” said Franklin. “We thought it was gonna fuck him up, but he ended up pushing us and motivating us all the way here!” Franklin leaned in towards me, “They don’t make the gays like they used to. That man is tough as nails.” I awkwardly laughed and shook my head. “So where are y’all from?” I asked. “We’re from Missouri,” Nick responded. “We all work together and this is sort of our ‘yearly adventure’.” “Ah, that’s cool,” I replied. “Well, y’all picked one hell of a place to come hike since you’re not from here.” “Yeah, don’t we know it?” Jesus said. “One of our coworkers suggested we try out this Challenger Point trail, but I don’t think we know what we’re getting in to.” “Well, you’re definitely well-equipped!” I responded, trying to give some reassurance. I noticed they all had plenty of food, water, nice clothes, and camping/trekking gear that looked nearly brand new. “So y’all are trying to get to the top of Challenger Point tomorrow?” I asked. “We’re gonna try,” Jesus responded. “But, I don’t know. This has been kinda rough so far.” “Landon says he’s done it before!” Franklin offered, prompting me to divulge some details from my prior hikes on this mountain. They all turned to me, clearly wanting some information about what to expect.
“Well,” I started. “It gets a lot harder from here. The Willow Lake trail is nothing like the North Slope of Challenger.” “Is that the summit right there?” Jace interrupted, pointing at the huge rock formation on the south side of the lake. “No,” I replied. “You can’t see the summit from here. You will be able to see it once you hike around the lake. You’ll have a good idea of what you’re up against tomorrow morning when you get over to that waterfall.” I gestured to the water cascade on the east end of the lake. “Okay,” Nick said, “So what is the trail like to the top?” “There’s not really much of a trail up there, from what I remember,” I continued. “There’s a sign at the base of the mountain over by the waterfall that will point you in the right direction, and the trail continues for a while after that. It’s much steeper than the trail to this lake. After you make it to the half-way point or so, the trail just kinda disappears and it’s all loose, steep rocks from that point onward to the summit.” “Ah, alright,” Jesus interjected. “So it’s like really sandy and gravely up there?” “No,” I said. “It’s literally large, loose, nasty rocks, some of them as big as a car. Just imagine a 14000 foot-tall pile of rocks. That’s what Challenger is.” I hit my vape again for dramatic effect and the four guys gave each other a nervous look. “Ah, come on y’all!” Jace yelled. “We made it this far. Ain’t no fuckin’ way we’re gonna give up now!” “Oh no, we’re not giving up,” Franklin defiantly responded. “It’s just that this shit is intense, man.”
For the rest of the evening we traded stories about hiking and the road trips we’ve completed in the past. They told me about their trip from last year, when they went to the Four Pass Loop in the Maroon Bells near Aspen. “That was easy compared to this,” Jesus told me. “But we weren’t trying to actually climb the mountain. And the people seemed so much friendlier out there than they are here!” “Yeah, I believe that,” I replied, “There are a lot of 14er ‘elitists’ out here. The mountains in the Sangres are generally not for beginners. There are a lot of folks who mean business and some are very competitive about it. They might have a tendency to ‘look down’ on people who aren’t as skilled or obsessed with mountain climbing as they are.” When I was younger, I was definitely one of those “elitist” types of people. When I got a taste of mountain climbing in Colorado, I fell in love with it wholesale. I spent a large portion of my free time studying routes, preparing for climbs, and training by running up and down the Manitou Incline and riding my mountain bike almost every day. The love for the mountains is a real thing, but there is a high barrier for entry for those who seek maximum enjoyment and accomplishment in the high country. I believe it is precisely that barrier for entry that makes it easy for those who are “in the club” to look down on those who may just want to climb one or two mountains a year. I used to have a naive, arrogant mantra I would tell myself: “I am safer, I am faster, I am stronger.” It was no wonder that, with this mindset, I hardly made any friends doing the thing that I loved. It created a nasty downward spiral too. I would think to myself, “Well, the reason I’m not making friends is because I am so much better at this. I clearly intimidate them.”
I woke up the next morning around 4:10am, about 30 minutes before my alarm would go off. I disabled the alarm on my phone and lazily started packing my day bag. When I rose from my tent, I saw the other guys were already awake and getting ready for the day as well. They were brewing coffee and slowly getting dressed while chatting and taunting each other. “You headin’ out?” Nick asked me. “Yes, I’m ready,” I replied quietly. “Alright my man, good luck up there.” Franklin fist-bumped me before I left the camp. I marched around the lake in the cool pre-dawn mountain air, staying on the Challenger Point Trail for about 30 minutes before I cut off to the left and began bushwhacking through the willows in the upper basin towards the boulder field at the base of Kit Carson Peak. As I approached the base of the mountain, I decided I would stay high-and-tight beneath the cliffs at the bottom of the peak. As I passed the proper ridge on Kit Carson, I found myself in some difficult class-4/easy class-5 terrain. My route-finding was a bit questionable as I found myself hanging off the edge of a 20-30 foot-tall wall of rock more than a few times. Once the early obstacles were cleared, I clambered up the easy class-3 ledges towards the North Ridge. When I gained the ridge, it was a very straightforward climb to the top. I enjoy the solid, exposed rock climbing on this route. Good footholds and handholds are always easy to find. “Oh yeah, baby,” I thought to myself, “These are high-consequence moves.” It took me just over two hours to reach the summit. There were about 10 other climbers on top when I got there. We all exchanged congratulations and then I asked one guy about the condition of Kit Carson Avenue. “It’s steeper than it looked in the pictures,” he told me. “Not really looking forward to going back up that part. Are you going that way now?” “No,” I responded. “I’m going over to Columbia Point first, and then I’ll route-find back over to the Avenue and hopefully summit Challenger Point once I’ve cleared that.” “Oh, shit,” he retorted. “Well, good luck with that.”
I carefully stepped off the summit of Kit Carson Peak and walked down its southeastern slope. The whole time, I was eyeing Columbia Point and looking for a spot for safe passage into its steep rock ribs and gullies. Just below the turnoff for the Avenue, I split off again to the left and hoisted myself into one of the gullies on the west side of Columbia Point. “Ooh, good luck!” I heard a girl yell from the Avenue turnoff. I waved back at her and returned my focus. The climbing on Columbia Point isn’t too hard, but as it was new territory for me, I found it to be the sketchiest section of climbing during the entire day. By studying Columbia from the top of Kit Carson, I could see there was a critical turnoff in which I would need to gain a ledge, turn right, and climb towards the southwest side of the mountain. There is a notch on the southwest edge with several cairns where you must turn around and climb north/northeast on an easy class 2-3 ridge towards the summit. The view of the Crestones from the top of Columbia Point is remarkable. I am now formulating a plan to do a Crestones “super-route” in which I would like to climb the North Buttress of Crestone Peak from Columbia Point, complete the Grand Traverse to the Crestone Needle, and then backtrack all the way to Willow Lake. That would be epic.
A bit of high-altitude exhaustion set in as I returned from Columbia Point, traversed through two loose gullies on Kit Carson Peak, and gained Kit Carson Avenue. From that point on, I knew that the “fun” part of the day was over, and it was now just a matter of slogging up and down the Avenue, up to Challenger Point, and down the big, nasty North Slope. I scampered over the top of Challenger without stopping, and a young woman shouted out to me from the summit. “Don’t you want to stop for a minute!?” she yelled. “Not really!” I declared before turning back west and hopping down the summit ridge. Today would mark my fourth time on top of Challenger Point, and seeing as it was completed under such relatively easy conditions, it didn’t have the same zeal as it did back in 2017 when I fought to the top with snowshoes and a mountain axe, with hurricane-force winds sucking the air from my lungs. As I reached the turnoff to the North Slope, I began to wonder if I would be able to greet my new friends from last night. I remembered that they told me they didn’t plan on starting until 8 or 9am. “Sheesh,” I thought. “Well, if they’re still going, they will have been climbing for about 3 or 4 hours now. It’s a bit late in the day to still be ascending so it’s possible they turned around already.” After slipping and sliding down the slope for about 30 minutes, I spotted them. I deviated from my route to reach them and to take account of how they were feeling. When Franklin spotted me, he threw his head back in disbelief. “Bruh he’s already climbed all three of these mountains and we’re still on number one!” “How are you feeling?” I asked. “Not so good,” Nick responded. “How long do you think it will take us until we get there?” “How long have you been climbing so far?” I questioned him. He checked his watch, “We’ve been moving for about four and a half hours.” “Oof, okay...” I said, reluctantly. “Well, there are some clouds brewing on the other side of the mountain, if they turn any darker, I would strongly consider turning back.” “Yeah, okay,” Nick continued, a bit impatient. “But how long would it take?” “Well you’re just over half-way up the slope right now, so I would make a guess and say three hours at your pace. Also, it gets crazier up there. The terrain is way more loose and nasty than it is right here.” “Alright guys,” Nick asked his group. “What do you want to do?” “I think we should keep going for a little while and see how it goes,” Jesus and Jace replied immediately, clearly not ready to give up just yet. “I’ll go with y’all back up there” I told Nick. The group paused, and Nick looked at me like I was crazy. He exhaled and shook his head. “Alright, let’s keep going. Landon, you lead.”
We clambered up the slope for about 10 minutes before the group needed to stop and catch their breath. I looked up at the sky and saw the clouds were slowly but surely growing larger and darker in color. A young woman, dressed in running attire, came skipping down the trail at that time. “Did you make it?” We asked her. “No,” she relented. “The clouds are just looking a little too ominous, plus it’s kinda late in the day, so…” she said as she continued down the trail past us. “Okay guys. I think it’s time to turn around. Let’s take a vote.” Nick climbed on top of a rock and addressed the group. “Landon,” Franklin asked me, “What do you think we should do?” I did not want to say anything, one way or another, at that moment. I know how deeply frustrating and disappointing it can be to make it so far on a mountain, just to turn around, with the summit seemingly within grasp. “I want you to look at me and tell me we’re not ready for this.” Franklin pressed me. “Okay,” I uttered, staring directly at him. “Y’all aren’t ready for the rest of this hike, and the weather could turn sour at any moment. “Alright, well Landon said it,” Nick declared. “And it looks like nature is making the decision for us.” We turned around at about 13300 feet and made for the campsite. I believe they were eager to just end the suffering and to be able to enjoy the rest of the afternoon at Willow Lake.
After about 2 hours of meticulous down-climbing and knee-pounding, we were back at our camp. Jace started a small fire and Nick started cooking some freeze-dried meals with his jet-boil stove. The smoke from the fire did a nice job clearing the immediate area of mosquitoes. The guys pulled out some shots and asked if I would like to partake. Of course, I agreed and thanked them for sharing. As things started winding down a little, a young woman and her friend appeared over the rock leading down to camp. “Hey!” Jace shouted. “We have a fire. Do you want to join us?” “You guys are walking on thin ice,” she responded as she trotted into the middle of our camp. “I mean, I don’t really give a fuck what you do, but the forest ranger might have something to say about that fire.” She was dressed in running shorts and a hoodie. Her hair was done up in a ponytail and she was sporting some high-end reflective cycling sunglasses. “Well, I am the forest ranger,” Jace retorted. The girl stood silently and defiantly, refusing to make eye contact with any of us. “Yeah, they helicoptered me in this afternoon so I can, ya know, make sure that nothing crazy happens up here.” “Hm, okay,” she replied, looking out towards the lake. “What’s your name?” Jace asked her. “My name is Taine. Like ‘rain’ but with a ‘t’.” She responded, still dismissive. “Oh!” Jace exclaimed. “I have a cousin named ‘Rain’. Well, she changed her name, so we call her ‘Rain’ now.” “Ah, cool,” she responded as she turned around and walked over to the large rock overlooking the lake. “Do you think she’ll say anything about the fire?” Jesus asked me. “Nah,” I replied. “She’ll forget about it.”
Moments later, in clear view for all of us, Taine took off her top on the rock while her friend took pictures. I won’t lie, I was just shocked. The five of us sat there in a silence that was only broken by a nervous, disapproving laugh. Without saying a word, Jace hopped up and ran over to her. “Oh y’all are taking pictures!? Let me join!” He exclaimed. “Okay!” the girls responded. Taine and Jace proceeded to strip bare naked in front of us for a few minutes while Jace told her how to pose and Taine’s friend took photos. Nick left the scene, but Jesus, Franklin, and I sat and watched the entire spectacle unfold, our fists on our chins, looking back and forth at each other and laughing under our breath. “Are you gonna post those photos?” Jace asked. “Sure!” Taine responded. “I hope you’re okay with 10000 people seeing your bare ass on Instagram!” “I don’t give a fuck!” Jace responded, laughing hysterically. They walked back over to the camp, and Jace asked if they were going to climb tomorrow. “Yeah,” Taine replied. “We’re doing the class 4 ridge on Kit Carson tomorrow.” “Oh that’s awesome!” Jace responded. “That guy over there who’s with us did all of that today! Landon! Come over here!” I rolled my eyes and looked at Jesus and Franklin. “Do whatever you want, man.” Franklin sheepishly stated, shaking his head and laughing. I stood up and walked over to them. “Yeah we tried it last year but I wasn’t as experienced then, so we’re gonna get it tomorrow,” Taine said while conversing with Jace. “Taine, this is Landon, he climbed like four fuckin’ mountains today. He’s crazy.” “Bro, she don’t care one bit” I responded indignantly. Taine looked at the ground and didn’t say anything. “Well y’all have fun tomorrow, and be safe! It’s super dangerous up there.” Jace signed off to the two girls. I waved at Taine’s friend and told her to have fun.
We walked back to the group and Jace apologized. “I’m sorry. I actually hated that bitch. I just wanted her to leave as soon as possible.” “For real!” I laughingly responded, “She walked right in to the middle of our camp with that bitchy energy, then just stripped naked in front of all of us! She totally knew what she was doing. Total power move for no reason.” “Are there a lot of girls like that out here, Landon?” Nick asked me with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, I think too many. Plenty of women with an ego the size of the moon. No one is ever going to confront a girl like that on her bullshit - “ “Because she’s hot,” Nick interrupted me, completing my sentence. “Yeah,” I continued. “But you can tell she loves these mountains. And that’s totally fine. I’ve come around to understanding that the mountains belong to everyone. I’m not gonna say, ‘she doesn’t belong here. A real climber would blah blah blah.’ No, if you’ve got the ambition and drive to come up here, then you deserve to be here. But have some respect. She might think she’s better than all of us because of her achievements or whatever, but that ain’t the case.” The guys silently nodded. Perhaps they agreed with me, but thought I was over-reacting to the situation. “That’s some angry wisdom there, bro,” Franklin said, laughing and taking a shot.
“I can’t believe we made it all the way to 13300 feet today,” Jace said while we ate and drank around the fire. He hit his vape and looked back at the mountain. “We were so close!” “Yeah man,” Jesus replied. “That shit was killing me. My knees are gonna be so sore tomorrow.” “Landon, how do you feel?” Franklin asked me. I stopped chugging from my water bottle and set it down next to me. “I feel fine. I could go again tomorrow if I had to.” Franklin looked at his friends and laughed in disbelief. “There’s something wrong with this dude!” “I would go again tomorrow too, but,”Jace responded. “Do you really want to try again?” I asked, egging him on. “Yeah, I mean, that’s what I came all the way here for: to climb the fucking mountain. I still want to do it.” “Okay. Let’s do it then,” I responded confidently. “For real?” Jace asked. “How are we gonna do this?” “Same way we did it today. We get up early, drink plenty of water and suffer through the madness until we’re at the top.” “If you guys are going to do this,” Nick interjected, walking over to us, “Then should we wait for you at the lake or what?” “Nah,” I replied. “What we should do is, the three of you go ahead and pack out of here so you can drive to your hotel in Alamosa. Jace and I will climb tomorrow morning, and then we can pack out to my van and we’ll meet you down there. I’m headed towards Alamosa when I’m done with this hike anyways.” “I mean, Jace,” Jesus started. “If you really want to do this, then going with Landon is your best shot, man.” “Okay I’m down,” Jace replied. “I know I’m not gonna like it, but I want to do it before I go home.” “Alright,” Nick said. “Let me get your number, Landon.” “Okay, no problem. I don’t have service here but I will be in touch with you as soon as I get service again, and you can text me the hotel address.” “Sounds like a plan,” Nick replied, seemingly having full confidence in me.
On my final day at Willow Lake, Jace and I woke up at 5:00am to start the long grind to the summit of Challenger Point. It would be his first 14er summit and my 5th on that mountain alone. “Good morning, sunshine! The Earth says ‘Hello!’” I teased Jace. “HAHA!” Jesus laughed from his tent. “You got this, Hollywood!” “Shut up,” Jace muttered. “It’s too early for this.” Nick brewed Jace some coffee and handed it to him while he finished packing his bag. By 5:30, we were back on the upper Willow Lake Trail to climb the mountain. The climb itself was pretty uneventful. We followed the trail at the base of the mountain, through the sketchy rocks to the turnoff at the beginning of the summit ridge. We took breaks every 10 minutes or so to catch our breath and stay fed and hydrated. “Yesterday,” Jace mentioned, “We weren’t even on the trail. We were climbing through those rocks and grass down there. It was such a huge waste of time! People were looking at us like we were crazy, and we were!” “Damn,” I replied, “How did you lose the trail? The sun was out when y’all started, so it’s not like you couldn’t see.” “Well it was that sign down there!” Jace responded. “We thought it meant that you had to turn left, but clearly that wasn’t the way.” As we surpassed the group’s highest-reached point from the day before, Jace stated that I wasn’t exaggerating when I said that the terrain gets bad. I have affectionately named the upper-half of Challenger Point “Crazy Town”. “I’m not kidding, man,” Jace said at one point near the end of the climb. “I am definitely out of my comfort zone.” “Well, we’re getting close,” I would respond. You can see the top of the slope from here!” “Dude, shut up,” Jace would reply. “You’ve been saying that for the past three hours.”
Once we reached the summit ridge, I told Jace that we were really close now. I told him not to stop anymore. “Just suffer through it for the last 20 minutes and will we be there, and you can tell everyone from back home that you climbed the mountain when they couldn’t.” I reassured him and slapped his sunburnt shoulder for the last time as we plodded through the solid, yet horribly uneven, rocks leading directly to the top. I told him to take the lead for the last 5 minutes so he could reach the summit before me. Four and a half hours after leaving the camp, we were

on the summit of Challenger Point. “I feel like I want to cry, but I can’t look like a bitch in front of these people.” Jace had said once on top. “Dude, let it out,” I responded. “I’ve cried plenty of times on the tops of these mountains. It’s an amazing feeling and you fucking killed it!” Jace just breathed a sigh of relief. At the summit, we took some pictures and chugged a beer, then started heading back down. 7 hours later, we were back at my van. Mission accomplished.
When we arrived at the hotel in Alamosa, Jace and I felt like we had just returned from war. It was an incredible experience, but not one he would like to have again anytime soon. (Not saying that war is an incredible experience). That night, we went out and got Subway sandwiches in Alamosa and they let me take a shower in their hotel room. “What are you gonna do now?” Franklin asked me. “I’m going back for more,” I responded. “The closest 14ers to here are Little Bear, Blanca, and Ellingwood Point. I’m going to try my hand at those.” I slept the night in my van at that hotel parking lot and said goodbye to all of them in the morning. I told them that if I ever head out east, I’ll hit them up. Once they departed for Missouri, I got back in my van and headed towards Lake Como Road so I could relax for a few days and write up my trip report from my last three days at the Kit Carson Massif.