Mount Elbert

People encased in all sorts of mountaineering gear lounged around on makeshift lawn furniture stacked out of lichen covered talus rocks. Dogs of assorted breeds and colors, all off leash, casually wandered about, nonchalantly cold nosing not only one another, but also any new two legged arrivals.  It was a gathering place where everyone shared a common goal. We were at the highest point in the Rocky Mountains that stretches over 3,000 miles from Alberta and British Columbia in Canada through Idaho, Montana, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado and New Mexico.


Mount Elbert looms southwest from Leadville, Colorado and hits the altimeter at 14, 433 feet above sea level and on a Thursday, I made a snap decision that I wanted to absorb the view from the summit Saturday morning.  I had previously driven past a parking lot marking the south Mt Elbert trail and guessed that was an appropriate starting point. That was the extent of my foolhardy research for my first 14er. Since afternoon thunderstorms commonly shroud and pound the mountains, I set my alarm Friday night for an early start.  Would it take 3 hours, 5 1/2 hours, or longer to reach the summit?  I had no idea.  But, if I started before 6 a.m., surely I would summit by noon?

With my motto of keeping things simple, I set out my typical minimalist gear and began to crawl into the clothing early the next morning. A tight, Under Armour long sleeved shirt served as my base layer that was covered with an old cotton t-shirt.  The third and final layer was a wonderful Mountain Hardwear hand-me-down running jacket  (thanks Janna, I'm still putting lots of miles in it) that is nearly windproof and water resistant. Knee length baggy shorts, ankle socks and worn out road sneakers added to my super-sexy ensemble.  A belt held a 20 ounce water bottle, a smashed granola bar and a Gu gel left over from who knows what race. Topping off the fashion statement was a mutli-colored Turtle Fur beanie and my trusty Black Diamond headlamp. Sunglasses and a phone were stuffed in a jacket pocket as I slammed the car door shut in the parking lot.

Breathing created vapor clouds before my face as I noticed frost on the tips of low growing plants. It had rained the night before and I set out along the damp trail enjoying the solitude, pine tree odors and sparkling sea of stars overhead.  With no light pollution from cities or the moon, the coal black sky glittered with stars like diamonds heavily sprinkled on black velvet.  Constellations, especially Orion, were crowded with company since so many extra stars were visible. As I scampered down the trail, the ground oddly sparkled nearly as much as the sky. 

A later inspection revealed aspen leaves laying on the ground had captured raindrops into round gems that danced in my headlight's glow.  Reaching down, I tilted some leaves and the raindrops acted like balls of mercury as they kept their spherical shape and rolled off.

It didn't take long to have the altitude add an explanation point to reminding me I'm a long ways from being back in shape, but I trudged along and got a whiff of chimney smoke from an out-of-sight cabin. It brought visions of warmth, coziness and much welcomed isolation as the sky began to turn colors with the pending sunrise.  Tall pine tree forests and groves of aspens blocked the sunrise when something shiny flashed through the trees. I stopped to evaluate and eased forward to see...another parking lot?

Unbeknownst to me, an upper trail head for the south Mt Elbert trail was 3 miles uphill from my starting point. A handful of cars were tucked in the trees as I went to a sign posted beside the trail and looked at the contents.

Egads!  Mt Elbert is HUGE!

And, steep!  What did I get myself into?  Oh well, the chart says it is 3.8 miles to the top with a vertical gain of 3,915 feet.  How bad can that be?

Setting out, there was an intersection where a sign marked a trail to the Lily Ponds.  I did not venture off, but could see beaver ponds below, shimmering in the early morning sun and as smooth as glass.  A later glance into the series of ponds had an ever widening V, like a huge arrow, rippling across the water that pointed to a beaver spearheading the wake as he started his work day.

Another trail marker pointed up to follow Mt Elbert's southern ascent, so I broke off the trail that was coincidentally also the Colorado Trail and the Continental Divide Trail.  The rolling trail immediately transformed into steepness.  Running was out of the question as a thigh scorching, lung-busting hike began.

Ridiculously, I would take 20, maybe 30, steps and stop, gasping for air.  No one was around as I wheezed and looked like a fat tourist gazing at the scenery while secretly trying to catch my breath.  Once recovered, it was another trudge upward with a repeat performance of rest.

Ah, that's it! I must need nutrition and a swig of water.  With teeth, I tore into my granola bar packaging and whimpered as crumbs spilled to the ground. Fetching most pieces, I greedily ate the crumbs and rationed some water to rinse it all down.  Feeling refreshed, I set off again and, bam!  There I was, just a little ways up the trail, wondering where was the oxygen?  Go a little, rest, go a little, rest.  This pathetic cycle slowly inched me up the side of the gigantic mountain and I looked up.

Holy @#$%!  The summit seems to be getting farther away!

I tucked my chin and kept cycling through the trudge and rest pattern when the little wussy voice materialized. "Good job!  You've come a long way!  Go ahead, turn around, it's all downhill from here. Nobody will know, except you and I, that you're a quitter!" 

The voice needed fed a knuckle sandwich as I kept moving ever-so-slowly up the incline.  Wind battered trees were left behind as the scenery changed to low growing alpine vegetation and rocks.  Rocks, rocks, rocks.  Same color, same texture, same ankle-turning capabilities were everywhere. 

Sweat management.  I carefully monitored my body heat and constantly adjusted zippers in my outer shell for proper ventilation to avoid excessive sweating with the associated danger of cooling down too much, too fast.

Getting higher, I could see the summit and crested the rise to only be deflated, it was a false summit.  Out of curiosity, I touched my wrist to feel my pulse.  There wasn't one. It was solid heartbeat-- kind of like a hummingbird reaching 1,260 beats per minute...

I looked to the blue sky and focused a single puffy cotton ball cloud.  Suddenly, it rushed up and away leaving contrails ribboning behind it.  It was like an infomerical for some a tele-evangelist preaching about about fire and brimstone as heavenly clouds whoosh away.  My solitary cloud settled as I began more upward movement.

What's that? And that?  There's another one.  Grasshoppers?  What are they doing way up here???

I followed the zig and zag of the trail and heard voices.  Seeing no one, I figured it was just part of a slow death from steady oxygen deprivation.  I plodded uphill when movement caught my eye and, behold, I was at the summit.

A handful of dogs and dozens of hikers stirred around at the summit, many being caught giving me a double-take.  Yup, I'm standing here with you in shorts, worn out sneakers and a lightweight jacket.  But, you look great in your North Face alpine parkas, Columbia mountaineering pants, and $500 hiking boots.

Doing a self check made me realize that I felt...weird.  I can't say I was nauseous or lightheaded or woozey, but something just did not feel right.  My stomach was hungry enough to eat the butt end of a skunk, so I ripped open the Gu gel packet and, Nirvana!  Those few calories were delightful as I rationed more water and snapped a few pictures.

Being socially inept, I had nothing to share with other victorious hikers, as I wandered across the summit to dive back down the trail. With all stone having straight, rugged edges, a small, round object caught my eye. Reaching down, I picked up a nickel stamped in 1981. 

Hmmm...I can now say I honestly got paid to climb Mt Elbert.  That elevates my status to "Professional." I think it's best to leave that off my resume'...

Running down the zig-zags felt great after such a long and grueling ascent.  The steepness had my body in nearly a seated position while braking the whole way down.  Peeling off the base layer, I was soon back on the Colorado Trail/Continental Trail and then in the upper parking lot.  My legs were unsteady. They were done and I wished to hitchhike.  No one was around as my thighs, thoroughly marinated in lactic acid, started down the trail. There was no more running left in them.

I walked, trotted, and fell, on my return to the lower parking lot. But, the scenery was splendid.

And, now after my maiden voyage, I smarted-up (really? smarted-up?? oxygen deprivation does weird things to include making up dumb words) and researched Mt Elbert to learn that there are 2 more established trails to the majestic summit. Since I took the south trail, of course there is a north one.  And, the Black Cloud trail looks like a real lung buster...

I'll give them a try another day.

Ramble on....