Pikes Peak
A week ago I hiked around the North Georgia mountains for a full day, in preparation for this weekend - in which I made a trip out to Colorado Springs to hike up Pikes Peak (Barr Trail) and to see my grandmother (and two (of five) siblings - although the hiking didn't really prepare me for that). A forest fire and a potentially severe storm that Saturday looked to prevent the hike, but we (my brother and I) made it onto the [closed] trail anyway. And that's all I'll say about that.
Actually, we missed the correct trailhead and ended up scrambling over some steep hills trying to find the real trail - which we eventually did - after expending way too much energy trying to find footing in hills made of gravel and clinging to sharp, brittle rocks for dear life. It was SO much fun. Let me count the ways I miss days in the office at work.
After finding the correct trail (which we never should have been able to do), we saw a bear up ahead, on the trail, who was a whole lot more concerned about us than we were about it (at least based on external appearances). Thankfully. A little later, on this Jeep-accessible part of the trail, we came across some folks who said that there was a "hungry looking bear about 30 yards back, heading this way, so you better keep moving". That was great. I was looking back over my shoulder for a while. At the time, and still, I was wondering what makes a bear "hungry looking", but I wasn't willing to investigate that. I'll live with the uncertainity ... since it means that I get to live. Not the sort of information that's worth dying for. "Oooh. I get it. THAT is what 'hungry-looking' looks like. AWWWW!!!!"
A few thousand feet (in ascent) later, we came across a sign that indicated we only had ONE MILE left to ascend. Stupid sign. They should definitely get rid of it. That kind of information is not helpful at all.
A little shy of Barr Camp (the half-way point) we came across five guys who were going down. They said that they turned around at Barr Camp because the ranger there informed them of a storm and (potential) 80mph winds at the summit. We decided to circumvent Barr Camp by a few hundred feet to avoid similar chastisement, in case it might have been effective.
The weather remained ideal until well past the tree line (12,000 ft) when the wind started picking up a bit and it started getting cooler. Still just wearing a t-shirt though. Another thousand feet up and it was cold enough to warrant a jacket. A little bit later, I was walking along, minding my own business, when this wind started blowing up the side of the mountain and would have knocked me over, backwards, if I hadn't dropped to the ground (in a semi-controlled fashion) first, and then the wind started kicking up rocks so I crouched down and shielded my face for a while until it all subsided. And then kept on going. I was a little more wary of the wind before stepping out onto ledges after that. Lesson learned.
Part of the Barr Trail cuts clear across from the West side of the mountain face to the South side, in a big, ascending arc, and then continues with the typical switch-backs. It's quite a sight. Somewhere around the South side, a sign indicates that the ledge you're standing overlooks a 1500 ft drop. What with the heavy pack on my back, I decided not to lean too far over to investigate. Amazing view though.
After many more painful steps, and unsatsifying lung "fulls" of empty air, you reach the "16 Golden Steps", which is more like 30 steps, where the steps are not actually steps at all, but are instead painfully steep switch-backs. Then, finally, the best part of the entire hike: you finally crest the last bit of ascent and make your way onto the summit where dozens of train-going tourists are mulling around and catch sight of someone who obviously did not take the train. Or maybe they just catch the scent. Whatever. The heavy pack is a dead give-way. Sweating, while it is snowing, when you're just wearing a t-shirt is another. I got to field questions like, "Where'd you come from?", the best answer to which is a distinct gesture over the edge of the mountain. Such joy in accomplishment.
Heart racing, lungs heaving, legs tired, we successfully made it up the 13 mile (7,500 ft ascent) trail to the 14,115 foot summit.
It's good to get out and stretch one's legs.
Next up is the Devil's Path in New York.
Pictures here.
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As an aside.... There are thirty-five 4,000+ foot peaks in New York and there is a club dedicated to summitting (is that word even valid for a 4,000 ft peak?) each of them. There are fifty-three 14,000+ foot peaks in Colorado and there is a club dedicated to summitting each of them. Gotta love the Rocky Mountains.
