Staring up at it from below as I finished setting up my tent, a wave of excitement and anticipation washed over me, here we were a five man crew, making camp a few miles away from the beast we would tackle the following morning. An evening of music and enjoying each other’s company in these trying times felt refreshing and made things almost seem normal for the first time in months. We may have stayed up a little too late, imbibed a bit more than would’ve been recommended but the night was joyous and the companions were very much welcome.
It had been since September of last year that I had last put boot to trail up a mountain so it didn’t take much to wake me that morning. Five A.M. came earlier than I had hoped especially after knocking back a few cold snacks the night before but nevertheless I rose from my slumber, changed into what I would be hiking in and gathered my gear. Camp coffee no matter how bad is always welcome and even though the cup I made that morning tasted rather wrong, every sip put a smile on my face. The clouds hung low over the valley we were in, a blanket of puffy soft grey gently creeping by overhead obscuring the view of our challenge. We loaded up our car and headed to the trailhead not bright eyed and bushy tailed but more crusty eyed and bedraggled but brimming with exhilaration as we wound our way through the aspen and evergreen forest that shrouded the base of the peak we would soon attempt to conquer.
Steep, rocky, daunting, fifteen minutes into our ascent my calves were screaming at me to end this foolishness, turn around, you’re not in shape for this yet, what are you doing? Nevertheless I ignored my body’s request to quit, there’s a wall on certain hikes and indeed most outdoor pursuits, where your body has to find its equilibrium, find its rhythm. Once you hit that wall everything you do can feel like the opposite of what you want to be doing but eventually you’ll knock that barrier down and you’ll become one with the hike. It will feel less like a physical challenge and more of a simple repetitive task, left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out, make idle conversation, left foot, right foot, repeat. There’s a certain Zen inside this physical challenge, something to the effect of finding your center both in the physical and the metaphysical. Gaining some understanding of where you fit inside the moment you find yourself in.
Sun beams shone through the trees as we made our way to the crest of the first of a seemingly never ending stretch of hills, casting their golden rays through the forest and lighting up the ground in large swaths. As we reach the crest the trail flattened out a bit and started to wind through a beautiful forest of firs, spruce and pine. Large chunks of deadfall butted up against the trail in spots and in others lay across it entirely. At first hopping over their sizeable trunks was enjoyable but by the fourth one I found myself agitated by the extra expenditure of energy.
We reached switchbacks and started to climb again zig zagging our way higher and higher, still in the trees but every so often catching a bald spot and from it gazing back out across the beautiful valley to our east and south. As the sun had risen higher in the sky the blanket of clouds that had obscured our view down below had started to dissipate but as we gazed back down upon the valley there were still clumps of white pillows floating low over the glen from which we had started our ascent. We took a moment to snack as we stared out in wonderment at the magnificent canyon and I found myself in awe at how quickly we had risen up from where we started.
Climbing and climbing, legs screaming, heavy breathing we finally reached the tree line and our first encounter of snow, sizeable patches of white laying across the trail in spots, the first few stretched longer than the last but none more than a hundred or so feet. A beautiful little song rang out from the top of one of the last trees we would pass, a little bird singing his spring song to try and attract a mate, or maybe singing out a warning to others telling of these strange bipedal creatures shambling their way up the trail. Whatever the case may have been the little bird’s song was comforting in the morning sun as we continued onward creeping toward twelve thousand feet in elevation.
Out of the trees and into the alpine tundra, the trail began featuring more and more rock as it ribboned across the face of the northern side of a gully, cut into the hillside it was almost more of a mountain goat run than a trail. We crested a slight uptick in the trail and got our first glimpse of the Angel of Shavano, a snow formation at the back of the gully that from down below looks like a figure with wings hanging high above the valley. The ridge line above the angel was visible now as was the summit high above us and the exposure of the tundra now brought wind into the equation. A gentle breeze gusting from time to time but with the sun on our backs there still was not yet a need to don our extra layers.
A moment of pause offered me the chance to glance backward down toward the valley and it was a view I won’t soon forget, the gully patchy with snow ran all the way down to a dark green carpet of trees and out into a flat plain. In the distance you could glimpse the Sangre De Cristo mountains as wisps of clouds blew overhead. Haze and low clouds filled a valley to their east, at that distance everything was a different shade of blue. Onward I trudged, changed now from five men walking in step to a more strung out crew, three in the distance ahead of me and one a bit further behind me, my eyes were focused on the task at hand as my mind swirled with the images of grandeur the views had created.
A food break was necessary so we all stopped together directly above the angel at a turn in the switchbacks that had just begun and would lead us up to the ridge above. A large flat rock, sunk into the dirt at the perfect angle, seemed not so much a chair as a throne. Perched just under thirteen thousand feet in the air I sat upon this throne with my companions as we enjoyed a few snacks of meat, of granola and the occasional bit of chocolate, the sun shining brightly down upon us hardly any wind disturbed us, what I found and hope my companions found in that moment was peace. Mountain Zen flooded over me in surges sending goosebumps up and down my skin and a tingling sensation from my brain down through my spine and out to my extremities. I’ve had some beautiful views high on mountain sides but sitting there on that earthen throne I felt as a king, a master of all I surveyed. It brought to mind a story shared to me by a very good friend about his experience on the California coast in a little gully that featured a seat of stone reminiscent of a desk from which he gazed outward at the crashing surf in awe of the sheer power and beauty of nature.
We continued up the face of the ridge above the gully but soon realized the switchbacks we thought we were on weren’t the actual trail but a goat path. Our true switchbacks had ended down the way a bit and the actual trail wandered south before curling back north toward the summit on the southern end of the ridge. At this point however we decided to just push on as we were closer to where the trail crossed the ridge in front of us than we were to the proper trail to our south. As we approached the top of the ridge the wind finally became what I had expected, gusts upwards of thirty miles an hour began blasting us and a t-shirt was no longer sufficient, so hunkered down behind some sizeable boulders sheltering ourselves from the wind those of us (me) who had yet to throw windproof layers back on took a quick break to do so before continuing onward toward the proper trail.
From the top of the ridge the views began to become even more magnificent, off to the south you could glimpse the curving backbone of the Sangre De Cristo mountains in all their magnificence, looking over the western edge of the ridge to the far southwest you could just glimpse the snow capped peaks of the San Juans. Excitement overtook me and my pace quickened at least until we reached the scree field and the route became less apparent. Scrambling over massive boulders on the way up made for exhilarating yet tedious work as the trail came and went. At one point the furry companion which one of our party had brought along and who had been leading us the entire way came upon a section his dog brain couldn’t quite work out and stopped. I tried showing him the way but he wouldn’t follow so I continued upward to join the others while his father tried to guide him up.
We waited for a time hoping the furry friend would fathom his way up but when the last of the companions caught up with us and the dog and his father weren’t with him we decided perhaps the dog had finished his ascent and we would summit first before returning to stay with the good boy while his dad ascended. The trail was virtually nonexistent at this point and it became a game of finding a decent goat path and then scrambling up rocks every so often, a hundred feet from the summit and my water was low my legs were worn out and my head was swimming in the oxygen deprived air but my resolve held firm and I steadily made my way to the summit.
Triumph occurred just before eleven A.M. at an elevation of roughly fourteen thousand two hundred and thirty one feet, I scrambled my way toward the middle of the summit to a spot devoid of people and sat down on a rock to once again survey my domain. Our domain, as the old song likes to remind us, this land is our land. From the top you could see what felt like every major mountain range in Colorado, the Sangre De Cristo ever apparent, the major peaks of the front range in Pike’s and Evans, the Mosquito Range with its sub range the Ten Mile also in view, the Elk Range to our west, the San Juans in all their glory to the far southwest and a fair chunk of the Sawatch which we were in extended to our north and south. Clear skies and no wind, our fortunes couldn’t be better so we grabbed our celebratory summit beers and I unwrapped the summit burrito I was saving and sat there soaking in the sunshine and the view.
We started making our way back to the trail so as to allow our companion with the dog to summit but no sooner than we had stood up to move that way his head popped over the crest and he appeared with his furry black friend in tow, the dog had figured out the puzzle that paralyzed his brain and they both finished their ascent. We gathered together and enjoyed our beers and our accomplishment with the others who decided today was a good day to summit. An older couple who had started the day with us reached the summit at almost the same time that we had and we sat down and conversed with them talking about other hikes and how unbelievable the views were. They obliged us in taking a photo of our triumphant group before we said our goodbyes and made our way back down.
The way back wasn’t as arduous and the miles flew by, the afternoon sun beating down warmed the air as we made our steady descent. My legs were no longer screaming and my body was at peace, a calm washed over me as the sun warmed my face and arms. Little by little, bit by bit the summit got further and further away and the trees came back into view.
Hiking for me isn’t just about walking to a destination, it just isn’t about moving through a space, no for me hiking is about experiencing the natural world in a way our ancestors did, coming into contact with nature and journeying through it with a purpose of finding your center. I don’t hike to just add a notch to my belt or so I can say I’ve done it, I hike because the experience it provides, be it through the views, sounds, smells or general energy, fills me with an inner peace that I have rarely felt elsewhere.
Nature is beauty, but the stark contrast between the harsh world above and the calmer one down below is what creates that beauty. That the alpine tundra, which on the surface, appears to be a wasteland devoid of life is actually full of it is a testament to this fact and indeed to the fact that beauty is all around us we just have to open our eyes, ears and our hearts to see it.
The Wandering Toto
– 2020
The Wandering Toto 