Climbing to the summit of Mt. Elbert... (Colorado: Part Five)

We woke up early from a cold night of no sleep. When the alarm went off at 4:45 am, I felt like I had finally just shut my eyes for the first time, and it was already time to get up.
We were advised by a man we'd met in town to start our hike early. We needed to beat the early-afternoon lightning storms that come through the mountains.

When the alarm went off, it was still pitch black outside, and the last place we wanted to be was on a trail we didn't know in the dark. We decided to sleep for another couple hours before starting the hike.

We finally woke up around 7:00am, cooked eggs, and drank lots of water to get ready for our long day.



With only our Topographic map, we were immediately lost. We hiked for about 30 minutes before realizing we were actually on the Colorado Trail. There were no markings or directions at the actual trail head. At this point we were cranky to be starting the long hike only 4 hours before the first of the storms would roll in, and having wasted energy back-tracking.
It was 8:30am, we were a little above 10,000 feet in elevation, and we had 4,200 feet to climb.

I had heard someone describe the hike to Elbert's summit as climbing a 5,000 foot staircase. I didn't know it would be worse.



The climb was steep, and unforgiving. During the next few hours we only took 3 breaks. This was my first stop, and the one that made me realize I would not be stopping again for a long, long time. We were about an hour into our hike, and all I wanted to do was sit for a minute to catch my breath. Michael pleaded with me not to stop because he knew that I would have to break through the wall again, to be able to build up stamina to finish the hike.
And how right he was.
I sat for about 4 minutes, and we were off again. It felt like starting over, and I was angry at myself for taking a break so early on. We wouldn't stop again until we were above treeline.

The hike was nothing like I'd imagined. In my head I would take pictures, stop and admire the views, and generally have fun along the way.

For the most part, I can't tell you much about that day, except for the few things I'm talking about, now. I didn't take my camera out, I didn't look around, and I could barely think outside of just moving. Anytime my mind would wander from what I was doing, I was having to break through that wall again. So I didn't let my mind wander.

Everything hurts when you're climbing over 4,000 feet in only a few hours in freezing temperatures. My lungs hurt, my hair hurt, my fingernails hurt, my face hurt. You're producing ridiculous amounts of saliva and snot to the point where I turned into a 12 year old boy, shooting snot rockets and just moving on. For miles, I focused on a breathing pattern and didn't break it. We didn't talk, look at each other, or stop. We just pushed.
I worried about Hunter, knowing how I felt and wondering if his old bones were okay.



We passed hikers along the way that had turned back around 12,500 feet. Their dogs were showing stress and the storm was getting closer. We were halfway, and I couldn't let go of what we had come here to do. We kept hiking.



The 2nd time we stopped was around 13,000 feet. We had to make time to eat and hadn't stopped since our 4 minute break, miles back.
The air was getting thinner at this point, and I was starting to get worried. Hunter wouldn't eat, my hands were freezing, and we still had a long way to go. The steepest and rockiest part of our hike was still ahead, and I was starting to feel the affects of the elevation.



Miles away I imagined our little Yurt tucked into the mountains. I remembered sitting there 3 days ago and looking towards the point where I was sitting, now. We were here, and we would finish it.



From 13,000 feet to 14,433 was the point where I became what I like to call: mountain high. We were only functioning with half of the oxygen level we had when we first started our hike.
I was delirious. Almost crying one minute and laughing the next. Every time Michael would turn around and ask me if I was okay, I would say: "I'm fine, I'm just mountain high."

The last 1,000 feet of our hike looked like the picture above. Even though I knew we were almost there, part of me still wondered if I could make it over these rocks as I started hallucinating and my brain grasped for any oxygen it could take.

We were almost to the top, and the wind was piercing. We had no shelter or protection, and the clouds were getting thick. The temperature had dropped into the low 30's.



And then, after so many false summits, we were there. We finally made it.

It was 12:23 pm. It took us a little under 4 hours to climb 4,200 feet.


The summit was the 3rd and last break we took. I called my parents, we took a picture, and just as we put the camera away, the clouds surrounded us.
From the top of Mt. Elbert, you are looking down at every other summit in the Rocky Mountains. You can see Pike's Peak from there, and it feels like you're standing on top of the world. I was looking forward to this the most, but instead I was feeling ice cold rain on the back of my neck. But it wasn't rain.

The thunder was booming and we realized that it had started to sleet, and hail. We didn't have time to wait, and I didn't even get my chance to sit down. We ran. Down the rocks and steep trail, my knees were swollen and hurt more than anything. But we couldn't stop, and the freezing rain that fell on us for the next 2,000 feet down was a little bit of an I-just-summited-this-mountain buzzkill.

We didn't stop until we reached treeline, below 12,000 feet. We were soaked all the way through, and everything we had was ruined.



Fortunately my camera was still working, the lens was just foggy and cloudy. I had wrapped it in extra clothes and pushed it to the bottom of my backpack.
My phone was ruined.



In the shelter of the trees the sun started to peek out, and we saw this pretty little bird. It was the first time we'd smiled in over an hour.



Coming down was slow. A hike down that steep puts painful pressure on your knees. It took 3 hours to get back to camp, making our hike 7 hours long, total. (+30 minutes for getting lost in the beginning)






We took a nap when we got back to our tent, and I shamelessly begged to pick up camp and just head to a hotel for the night. We still had another full day of our trip planned, but all I wanted was to be home. I wasn't feeling well, my body hurt, and deep in my body a little baby was nestling in nice and cozy like. I just didn't know it, yet.



We took down our tent, packed, and headed to Leadville for dinner. I wanted a big greasy burger and fries, + a root beer to celebrate our summit. We passed Elbert on the way to town, and I saw a beam of sun breaking through. I was so thankful to not be at the top at that moment.



We decided to drive to Alamosa, so we could go to Sand Dune National Park in the morning before heading home.



It was a 3 hour drive, and for the last time that week, I saw Mt. Elbert. Even though I was standing in those clouds just hours before, I was still intimidated at the size and reality of it.
I watched the clouds swallow the summit as another storm pushed through.

This was a trip we could never forget.



next: Sand Dune National Park

Setting up Primitive Camp...(Colorado: Part Four)

It was Wednesday morning and we'd just gotten back into Leadville from our Yurts. We hadn't had a shower since Sunday night, and dropped by a laundry mat to do a load of laundry and take a shower.




We stopped at a little local Mexican restaurant and ate until our bellies were full. We'd been living off of Cliff Bars, beans & rice, bananas, and almonds for 2 days.



We drove about half an hour to Twin Lakes, where we would set up camp at the Mt. Elbert trail head. The moment I had been counting down to since February was just hours away.



Finding a spot to camp was a little less than easy. There was a campground close by, but Michael was dead set on a camp in the middle of nowhere.




The aspen trees were beautiful.

It was only 6:00pm and it was already almost freezing. We were at the highest
elevation I had ever camped in, and that night it would get down in the mid-30's.
The mosquitoes were the worst I've ever experienced.



We hurried to build a fire and set up our tent and tarps before the sun went down.
Michael cooked steaks over the fire while I packed all of our needed items for the morning hike. The hike. Everything I had researched and prepared for. Moleskin and band-aids, a first-aid kit, cliff bars and snacks full of carbs and protein, a camel back, my hiking socks, the boots I'd been wearing in for 4 months, extra clothes, flashlights, camera equipment, bug spray, and phones.



Hunter was out cold, still exhausted from our hike up Horseshoe Mountain. We'd already hiked over 30 miles in 3 days, and tomorrow we would add another 12. My old man was pooped.
I finally had reception on my phone for the first time in almost 3 days, and called my parents. I talked to them both, and they were both worried sick.
When we got home from our trip, My Mom told me that her and my Dad had stayed up all night, trying to use Google Satellite to find out where we were in case anything happened to us.

I slept terribly that night. It was freezing, I was scared to death of being in a flimsy tent in the middle of the Rocky Mountains with bears, cougars, and crazy mountain people out there with no help around for miles.


And mostly, I just stayed up thinking about Elbert. What would it be like? Would I be able to do it?
It was raining at this point.
Tomorrow the weather predicted storms, and I knew that if there were any lighting, on top of the 2nd tallest mountain in the United States was not where we wanted to be. One more thing to stay up all night worrying about...

next: Climbing to the summit of Mt. Elbert

Camping on the trailhead....(a checklist)

Last month in Colorado, we decided to do a primitive camp. Even though I'd grown up camping almost every National Park in the states, my parents had never just driven through the mountains, picked a spot miles away from civilization, and set up camp before.
The purpose of this week in Colorado was actually a hiking trip, and we hiked about 50 miles over three days. Our biggest feat was climbing to the summit of Mt. Elbert. Last winter we began researching the trail, and what we needed to do to prepare.
We found out that if we camped on the trailhead, we'd shave some time off our hike that day. Considering Elbert is the 2nd tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, and the tallest mountain in the Rockies, we decided this was the best option. So we drove as far as we could get in our car (you need a 4WD vehicle to access this trail, period) and found a spot to call it a night.





We drove through beautiful Aspen trees so thick I could barely see through them.
This spot on the trail was far as we could get in Petey. Up ahead was a creek with huge boulders in it, and we had to stop here for the night. I was a little worried about being miles away from the nearest person, but we had no time to worry, and lots of work setting up camp before it got dark.

Camping enthusiasts, here is a quick checklist of the most important supplies to bring along if you're camping.

Don't forget to bring:

-warm clothing
-lots of sleeping bags and blankets

The temperatures reached the 30's at night, so we packed a gaggle of warm clothes, and lots of blankets. We brought one sleeping bag to open up and lay on, and one for on top. We also brought sheets and fleece throws for extra warmth.



-lighters/matches
-fire starters
-firewood





If your area does not allow gathering of wood (most National Parks don't) you need to bring your own. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, we were able to gather wood.

-plenty of food
-cooking gear

We had an ice chest with sandwich meat, eggs, fruit, and juice inside. Some places we've camped have bear safety boxes to keep your food inside of. If there are bears in your area, please please please do not keep ANY food or throw scraps around your site. Recently a family was killed in Yellowstone by a bear, and it's a very reasonable threat when you're camping. We keep everything inside our car, and burn off all our scraps in the fire. If we need to wash out dishes, we walk away from our site to a stream to do so.
For cooking, you need something to make the food in. Since we did primitive camp, we made our own fire ring out of rocks, and obviously didn't have a grill to work with. We brought a cast iron skillet from home, and also have used foil packets in the past. If there is water near by, you can do dishes, but we didn't want to bother. So we brought paper plates and forks, and burned them in the fire when we were done.
Please don't forget supplies for smores. Camping is not camping without them.

-tarps
-camping equipment
-a mallet/hammer
-stakes for tent
-rope



It almost always rains in the mountains. We take one tarp to lay underneath our tent, and one to make a canopy above. Michael is the tent builder, and I always work inside to get our bedding and main living area ready while he works away to keep us dry at night.



Obviously you don't want to forget your tent :) We also bring a Coleman propane lantern that has been in our family for ages. Flashlights, headlamps, an air mattress, knives, and chairs come along, as well.

-bug spray
-gallon jugs of water
-soap
-baby wipes
-ziplock bags

Those are your bathing needs. The gallon jugs work great for washing your hands and face when you need a quick rinse. Walk to a nearby stream if you have a bit more time.




The water was FREEZING!

The baby wipes are a less than appealing story. Primitive camp means no showers, toilets, or toilet paper. It also means that you bury your poop. Which translates to pooping in the woods. It's really not as bad as it sounds. Rest easy knowing that most people only poop once a day, especially with the kind of dense, nutritional food you eat on a hiking/camping trip. Unfortunately for me, I poop at least 3 times a day. This is why I left my modesty in Oklahoma, and bought economy size packages of baby wipes for the trip.
They come in pretty handy when you don't have showers around, and every night we camp I take a baby wipe bath. Ziplock bags just mean that you get to confine your dirty wipes to a bag until you can get to a trash can. They're not just for dirty butt purposes, either. My feet get so incredibly dusty and dirty when we camp, and I love climbing into a cozy bed with clean feet for the night.



When I have the chance I can't wait to share all the stories and pictures from this wonderful trip.

Happy camping, friends.