Rain speckled the windshield as we pulled over to the side of the road just before the turnoff to the trail head. We weren’t far now but were still waiting on the second car. The sun had just set and the storm overhead created an almost pitch black shroud all around us, save lights from houses here and there and the occasional passing vehicle. A burrito or at least part of a burrito would be my sustenance for the night a local establishment that offers the option of putting green chili into your burrito was where we had stopped on the way out and I was glad we had as it was slowly becoming my favorite burrito in town. I ate about half of it and decided I’d save the rest for the next day so I wrapped it back up in its foil and threw it back into the paper bag it came in. The second car arrived just as I was sitting the bag down onto the floorboard and we fired up the car to lead the group up toward the trailhead. About an eighth of a mile past the trailhead and around the corner from the last large crater in the road we had passed was where we decided to post up for the night and make camp. We threw our tents up in a hurry to try and limit the amount of rain that would get in before we could secure the rain flys, shortly thereafter we settled in for the night and set our alarms for a time too early for my brain to comprehend. It was going to be a very early start to the next day.
Up and on the trail by a little after five in the morning there wasn’t much to see at first, headlamps were a necessity because without them it was like staring into the void, pitch black. It was over a mile before we got a glimpse of daybreak so the views to start weren’t much. We creeped up the ridge higher and higher in and out of pockets of trees and the going was difficult at first, I had been fighting a head cold for a few days prior but I was working under the assumption that pushing myself to the brink would kill it.
As the trees started to clear out the view to our left was a beautiful valley that featured two lakes and a waterfall, you could hear the stream rushing down toward the valley floor even from high above and you could almost feel the force of it. The sun started peaking above the wall of mountains behind us right as we were high enough to enjoy the views of adjacent mounts, colored in reds, browns, orange, tans and grays, fall had truly begun above the tree line, the alpine tundra was preparing for hibernation under its annual blanket of white.
Trees gave way to rock covered tundra and the dirt path turned into a stone staircase, carefully crafted up the side of the first and lowest part of the ridge in switchbacks. As we reached the top and started the long grinding ascent I caught a glimpse of Gray’s and Torrey’s. The going would turn from a standard winding trail to a straight line shot up the spine of the mountain a trail over basically pure rock, but not solid rock, ankle breaking loose stones covered the ground, reminiscent of when I would dump my tub of Legos across my floor as a child. This was payback for all those times my Dad stepped upon them with their deceivingly sharp edges and near invisibility in morning light, or midday light for that matter.
A view of near constant deception was all the peak had on offer, every inch toward the summit seemed like it offered eight different perspectives all which made it seem like we were never going to get there. It isn’t a terribly difficult path physically, save for the constant threat of your ankles being butchered by the bed of stones that brings to mind a landscaping job where someone was just a little to into river rocks, but the mental drain was high, false summits and a view of the path that makes it seem almost never ending make it a somewhat grueling slog.
Higher and higher we climbed and every foot forward we gained an even better view of the valley below and the mountains to our south, a gray wall speckled with pockets of snow and a green carpet covering all of the floor that wasn’t taken up by blue shimmering lake. Even up here you could still hear the sounds of the stream, a constant rushing that sounded almost like wind whistling through the trees.
At long last, the clouds gave way to blue skies and our morale skyrocketed, a rocky outcropping overlooking the valley provided a brilliant view and a spot to have a portrait taken. The path might’ve been long and a constant battle for the structural integrity of ones ankles but it’s location on the mountain gave it some of the most stunning views I’ve had on a journey to date.
We were higher now than the wall to our south and only climbing still, in the distance ahead of us was a man carrying a Colorado flag, he became my silent obsession, I was chasing him, we were in a race whether he was aware of it or not. I representing my home state of Kansas and all those “flat landers” and he the beautiful state we both reside in a state of mountains and trees and blue skies, lakes and rivers. I wasn’t going to lose. My focus became razor sharp and my pace quickened as I began the final push to the summit, in my eagerness to claim this mountain for Kansas I left my group in the dust, so zeroed in on my target I wasn’t aware of this until I was basically at the summit. One foot followed the other as I hopped from rock to rock passing by other hikers who were catching their breath or taking in the view all the while I was slowly closing in on the representative from Colorado, his blue and white flag flapping majestically in the light breeze blowing around the mountain. Finally three hundred yards from the top I passed him, he had taken a seat to recharge no doubt for the final push, as I passed him I made a joke about having forgotten my Kansas flag for this battle of Quandary Peak.
I crested the last of what I thought would surely be another false summit but I hoped that the frost covering everything was the sign I’d reached glory on yet another wild trip to fourteen thousand feet and indeed it was. I had reached the top where it was much, much less warm than it had been lower down and featured much more wind than I had anticipated.
Out west you could make out the mounts of Elbert, Massive and Holy Cross a wonderful view of the mighty Sawatch range, which features many of Colorado’s highest peaks. To the east you could see Evans, Gray’s and Torrey’s and you could just barely make out Longs peak before it was covered by clouds.
North of me lay a valley with three alpine lakes and several small ponds, a wall of rocks above them and a valley to their east. Although I looked as hard as I could I was not fortunate enough to see the snow white beasts that I had encountered on Bierstadt, the mountain goats must’ve been on another peak. About fifteen minutes after I summited my three companions made it to the top, we congratulated each other and it was at that moment I pulled out the burrito I had saved from the night before.
Illegal Pete’s is the name of the establishment that crafted this work of art, this masterpiece of pork, beans, rice, cheese, salsas and tortilla. I devoured it much to the pleasure of others atop the summit who’s laughs almost immediately followed my answer to their question of whether or not I brought a burrito all the way up. As it was cold and quite windy at the top we didn’t linger long once the burrito was gone, we wanted to get back down where the wind wasn’t pushing temperatures into the thirties so we took a few summit photos and made our way back to the trail.
Two men, in skinny jeans, swilling delicious native grog atop a mountain whilst the wind tried its damndest to freeze our extremities. Normally we wouldn’t hike in jeans but it was colder than we had planned on it being as shorts weather had suddenly passed us by.
As we made our way back down the trail a calm fell over the whole group and indeed all the fellow explorers who had the same idea that day. Chirping of the pika as they scurried from rock to rock, the gentle rushing of the stream in the valley below, a clear blue mountain sky with a brilliant sun warming me, I was in paradise without a care in the world.
Everything was peace and beauty and everything was in perfect harmony.
The Wandering Toto
– 2019
The Wandering Toto 