A buzzing rattled my brain as I lay exhausted and hungover in the pitch black of my room. The beeps from the alarm were entering my ears like tiny knives each piercing squeal driving them deeper. The time on the phone read 3:45 am, which was only 3 and a half hours after I had laid down the night before. My bed was soft and comfortable and wouldn’t betray me but I had made a promise to myself, to summit another fourteener, what would be my third, so the battle began. I snoozed the alarm and when it went off again, or at least when I realized that it was going off, it was 4:06 am. I sat in bed debating whether to just rest or whether to actually get up, get around and head out, for the next three and a bit minutes. Insanity prevailed and I sprung up grabbed the clothes I had sat out the night before and hopped in the shower.
I found mostly deserted roads as I headed out toward the mountains, wide open streets and highways under the orange glow of street lights. A pit stop at a gas station just north of red rocks gave me the fuel I would need both on the drive and during the hike. Another hour of driving but it disappeared in the blink of an eye and it was in that blur where I passed through a worm hole in time and space and popped out parked on the side of the road atop Guanella pass, staring up at the shadow of a great beast, Mt Bierstadt.
The sky was a brilliant gradient of reds, purples, whites and blues, slowly creeping higher and higher as I made my way toward the actual climb. The summit loomed in the foreground and a duck quacked it’s morning song on the lake to my left. The mountain is normally outlandishly crowded but getting here this early helped me find enough space to gain solitude. A peaceful high altitude marsh lay between me and the wall ahead as the sun’s rays turned the sky just above the mountain a bright orange. You could see little sparkles of light up the trail where the earliest crowd had already been making their way toward the summit, their head lamps looked like stars against a blackish blue backdrop of shadow covered mountain.
As I got to the far edge of the marsh I came across a picturesque stream, babbling it’s way down the valley no doubt from a glacial lake high above. I made my way across it by hopping on a set of stones that were sitting in an almost straight line from one side to the other, a bridge it was not but it would do the trick. Afterward the trail started to climb, out of the willows and into switchbacks up the side of the first hill which helped me gaze out across the stunning valley to the south.
I continued my climb up into the alpine tundra still under a purple and blue sky but to the south where the mountain didn’t cover it, the suns rays lit a smaller cluster of mountains and hills. Pale greens around me but in the sunlit distance were yellows and browns fall has begun in the high alpine region. The wild flowers which had peppered the landscape were all finishing their yearly life cycle and slowly returning to earth.
The view behind me was of a valley bathed in shadow but slowly the light was winning its daily battle as the line of darkness was being methodically forced back down and the sun’s beams slowly washed over the land. With a view as such, in the circumstances I found myself in, I paused for a moment of self reflection. Why do I do this? I asked myself, Why put myself through pain to just walk up a mountain? I knew the answer, I do it to remind myself of nature’s beauty as well as to accomplish something that actually requires patience and perseverance, something that is challenging, even if the path I found myself on wasn’t quite the most difficult it was still something that would give me that feeling of accomplishment and peace.
A trio of snow white mountain goats greeted me as I climbed higher, they sauntered back and forth across the trail foraging for food in the alpine tundra. The closest I got was about ten yards, trying to keep my distance but still moving up the trail, if they wandered into my path I would stop and wait for them to mosey onward to another spot. It’s amazing how many creatures litter these hills, marmots, goats, pika, birds and I even got to see a Stoat as it poked its head out from a gap in one of the massive cairns marking the trail.
In the early hours you are unaware of the presence of all these creatures it isn’t until the sun’s majestic beams start to wash over the countryside that you start to hear their noises and calls and see them scurry around from place to place looking for breakfast.
As I climbed higher and higher the tundra gave way to a boulder field and the sun decided to be at the perfect angle to blind me for the next fifteen minutes, I welcomed it however as the warmth washed over my body for the first time that morning. The morning featured temperatures in the forties but once I got to the sun it felt perfect. I made it to the final ridge just below the summit and took a pause to chat with a fellow hiker as we gazed out to the southeast upon a peaceful lake down below. We discussed the trail, the beautiful conditions and the potential path to a second summit I was unsure of doing. It was dangerous to attempt alone he told me, a category 3 scramble along a ridge known as the Sawtooth it isn’t that it’s difficult but that it is exposed enough that if you’re fatigued and don’t have someone to help you keep pace you can lose concentration and experience catastrophe.
I continued up toward the summit and came across an outcropping that creates a beautiful backdrop, I exchanged a photo for a photo with another hiker as well as some more idle conversation. He had gotten too excited and powered ahead of the other three in his group but it gave him time to pause and enjoy the scenery. As his companions staggered up behind I continued my journey to the top, shot a nod his way and thanked him for the photo.
I made it to the summit, from trailhead to peak I had spent an hour and forty minutes hiking, I blistered up the side of that mountain and sitting atop it gazing out west I felt wonderful. I knew it wasn’t the toughest hike but I’d conquered my third fourteener incredibly fast for my skill level and I enjoyed a solid hour up top soaking in the sun and chatting with fellow hikers. Up top I could finally make out the Sawtooth more clearly and realized I was probably not skilled enough to attempt it this time but standing atop Bierstadt and making conversation with all of those who’d had the same idea that morning filled me with a warmth even the sun couldn’t match. It is easy to forget how together we all are, with our lives becoming more and more insulated through electronic means. The scene at the summit was an eclectic group, highly varied backgrounds and experience and everyone realized the difficulty of what they had done.
On my way down, as I gazed out west I saw a mountain I do yearn to climb, one of the most unique mounts in the Rockies, Mount of the Holy Cross. It carries a line of snow straight as an arrow down the middle of its face and two thirds of the way up a crest of snow perpendicular to the line down. It creates a feature that looks like a cross and has been something I’ve longed to see for quite some time. It was hard to take a picture of but I could see it off in the distance looming, the center line still featured snow and you could barely make up the cross section but there was no doubt which peak I was staring at.
This was my first solo summit, I hadn’t attempted this magnitude of hike alone before and even though it wasn’t that difficult of a hike this wasn’t about the destination it was about the journey, solitude and meeting people. All up and down the trail I chatted with and offered lines of encouragement to so many other wanderers making their way to the top. Be kind to each other my friends especially when exerting your limits physically or when you see others doing the same.
Mountains represent nature’s beauty and awe, a cocktail of majesty, danger and challenge that pulls people in, a peaceful calm place that, even when crowded, just a glance outward offers a bit of reprieve where you hardly notice the noise. I can see why mountains are held in such high regard by humans throughout history and even today, being worshipped in places like Tibet, Korea, Japan, New Zealand, Armenia and even by Native Americans. Mountains are a monument to the grandiose nature of Mother Earth as well as the remorseless brutality she sometimes sees fit to remind us of.
Nature is beauty, it’s difficult to put into perspective or quantify, words can only convey so much, pictures are facsimiles, songs, poems and videos can only help your imagination grab a slice of what it means to be the embodiment of beauty, but without visiting nature yourself you’ll never fully grasp it. I come from the land of Oz, a place most people don’t find beauty in but it is a gorgeous place, it’s just difficult to express that fact. I’ll tell you this, if you can’t find beauty in a place such Kansas or anywhere like it, if you can’t truly understand that nature in and of itself is beauty the mountains are wasted on you. I didn’t really grasp this until I sat atop a mountain and gazed out across the land, surveying all that the earth has to offer. We take for granted the world we live in and the public lands that are freely accessible to us, these places are ours and that is a magical thing.
The Wandering Toto
– 2019
The Wandering Toto 