The Sawatch Range clusters 15 ranked 14ers with 4 of the 5 tallest peaks standing proud within the range. Mt. Elbert reigns supreme at 14,433 feet above sea level while his neighbor directly to the north, Mt. Massive, sits in second place being only 12 feet shorter. Both have well worn trails and maybe because of their prominence and/or relatively easy access, their summits host a huge population of visitors.
Having been on both Elbert and Massive on weekends and weekdays, I opted one morning to take a less popular peak hoping everyone else would be clambering around on the more majestic behemoths.
La Plata peak is nestled within the Sawatch range and soars to 14,336 feet, making it the 5th tallest in the state. I assumed it held less notoriety for the masses, and I was wrong. As I closed in on the trail head, parked cars spilled out of the lot and were strung out along the shoulder of the highway as I grumbled about people being everywhere. A touring motorcyclist departed and I felt fortunate while darting into his space on the fringe of the dusty parking lot.
As I clicked the straps on my hydration vest and set out with my play list setting rhythm to my feet, hikers were sprinkled everywhere, instantly snuffing my hopes of solitude like water on a candle flame.
A simple bridge crossed a deep slot carved into rock where the creek boiled below. The water angrily frothed in a swirling pattern, cutting a smooth curve into the stone as it then departed down a narrow channel where it instantly calmed in a broad, shallow creek bed. The sheer power of moving water was captivating.
The trail gently went up the lush valley floor. I enjoyed the ease of the slight grade and beauty of the high mountain flowers. Hikers were steadily passed and then, "the easy" was over. I hit a switchback and looked up. The trail zig-zagged back and forth up the steep mountain.
I cracked out my trekking poles, tucked my chin and set off. I wanted a steady pace that hovered just below having to stop and catch my breath and kept marching up the mountain. Hikers by the dozens were continually passed and then, the trail briefly leveled out.
Looking back, I noticed another fast paced climber closing in on me so I set out scrambling up the large boulder field. The other hiker appeared to be pacing with me and then, suddenly, something caught my eye. I glanced over to witness a sinewy guy in short shorts scrambling up the boulders like a dancing spider. Awestruck, I stopped to watch the elite athlete. He moved effortlessly with hands and feet lightly touching the rocks when another movement caught my eye. A lean and muscular lady was on his ass, searching for a passing lane, and I marveled at the floating duo.
Quickly, they disappeared from sight and I shook my head feeling like a wheezing geriatric geezer. While nearing the summit, the same couple were descending in crazy leaps and great bounds down the rock tops that hurt my ankle bones while witnessing their near superhuman mountaintop dance.
I reached the summit and turned for the descent.
It paled in comparison.
While they had a dashingly dangerous two person tango racing down the mountain, I had more of a polka dance, in slow motion. They made me feel like Lawrence Welk soft-footing down the trail and suddenly, a pristine puff of white appeared beside me..
Because of so many hikers on a regular basis, this old billy mountain goat was desensitized to humans. He stood his ground and I believe I could have reached out and touched him. He scrutinized me with years of wisdom and seemed to say, "Welcome to my home, it's all good up here. No need to be grumpy with all the people...remember, it is what you make it!"
Two old goats, eye-to-eye, staring at one another.
He provided a much needed attitude adjustment and I smiled the rest of the way down.
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