With a heavy-laden bag on my back, 4 hours sleep and ambition to distinguish myself...to conquer something...I set off to climb Pikes Peak.
At 14,110 feet, it isn't even the tallest 14er in Colorado. But it was to be MY 14er. It was to be ME conquering the seemingly unconquerable. It was going to be between me and the mountain.
Aunt Mary Ann, Cousin Billy and I started on Barr Trail at 5:45am. We beat the sun to the trail! It was a beautiful and eager beginning.
Aunt Mary Ann starts us off on a great pace and we have nothing but confidence that we would get to the top long before our ride down (the Cog) left. I even brought a book along thinking I'd get bored at some point! My how that idea changed after 7 miles:)It was a beautiful trail. Steep, but beautiful. The crisp cool air on my skin. The smell of leaves turning yellow and red. The heat of the new sun on my face. Beautiful. Perfect. Serene. Tiring. There was about 5mins of level trail in the whole 9 1/2 hours that it took us to climb. We took every opportunity to rest and let our hearts catch up. Every corner offered a photo op:)
I'm not a quitter, but I'm not exactly a go-getter either. I'm very much a middle-of-the-road type of gal. So I was fighting with myself ALOT around mile 10 on whether I wanted to continue and finish the last three uphill miles or take the 10 down.
I took the three. It was a fight, but I went for it. And it was worth it...
Sadly, I had to leave my aunt and cousin behind. Every time they stopped to breath, my legs would cramp and I had the hardest time starting up again. So I told them I was going to take it slow and if they caught up, great, if not, I'd meet them at the top! So I soldiered on at my back-breaking turtle speed. I was walking so slowly that winter showed up. It snowed on me! We could all see the clouds moving in. The angst of the other folks on the trail was palpable. As the thunder started to clap everybody's pace quickened. High elevation and storms with lightning do not mix well! Thankfully, it started to snow and the clouds rolled by without incident.
Nine and one half hours later, I reached the top. Oddly, at the time, I wasn't excited. Sure, I was happy to be done. I was happy to use the restroom (not too keen on peeing behind a rock on a barren slope with people above and below me!). But I wasn't elated to have accomplished the goal. I was flat out exhausted. That's pretty much it. Exhausted. The last mile or two I was cursing what ambition I had to make me want to climb the mountain. I was cursing the mountain for being there. Yet, at the same time, I met an amazing group of people who had the same ambition, same goals. They were having the same struggles and every single one of them was an encouragement. At every new switchback you could hear people telling complete strangers "You can do it!" "You're almost there!" "Burn in Hell you Damned Mtn!" (ok, so that was in my head, but you could tell others were thinking it too!) I met some Army guys who had done the climb before. We were talking about the "16 Golden Stairs" at the end of the trail. He said that he liked the name because they were the stairway to heaven and it was pure hell going up them. But, once to the top, you were in Heaven. Things like that and "See you at the top!" is what kept my feet moving.
Two switchbacks left. One switchback left...
13 miles. 9 1/2 hours up. 1 hour down. Endless satisfaction. I can say that now. As I drove home Sunday morning, I was looking at the peak in the distance and kept telling myself "You climbed that. You CLIMBED that!" It's now starting to sink in what I have accomplished. Maybe I'm not so much of a middle-of-the-road type of gal anymore...
