July 17th, 2020

I climbed my first fourteener. I mean, real fourteener. I grew up in Colorado, I never owned a Subaru or found myself skiing every weekend or mountain biking or rock climbing. And then I turned 30 and after moving back to Colorado I found myself wanting to do those “outdoorsy” things after living in a few places that didn’t have mountains. I bought my own skis, a ski pass, took anyone who was willing to go hiking with me and had a completely different perspective on my home state. I realized how lucky I was to have the natural beauty in my backyard that so many people from all over the world traveled to see. And then, I took a job in Dallas. I know. But my parents in Colorado anchored me there so I wouldn’t stay too long. Finally, I had enough money to buy a mountain bike so I could get out of the concrete jungle and see some Texas nature, an ACL tear and a rock climbing rehab sport-turned-addiction later, I met Jess, and somehow landed myself in the middle of an amazing group of friends who climb and travel together — the kind I was always envious of before.

Two plus years later I find myself scrambling up the “gulley” of Mt. Sneffels just outside of Ouray, CO wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. I mean, I’m not into bagging 14ers… I have mountaineer friends but all the time and effort and training it takes to climb a mountain is something those people do. Not me, too much effort. Looking down at the grueling climb we had to endure after we actually summited (if we did) and trying to measure each breath so I didn’t get too winded at 13k+ feet, I tried to to focus on each step, each rock, each hand hold. It was all about enduring. and safely choosing each move so I could make it back to the car.

Maribel and Alex did the majority of the planning including choosing the route, evaluating our preparedness, timing, etc. We woke woke up at 2am, picked up Tri at the Twin Peaks hotel, and were up on Camp Bird Mine road by 2:45am. We had evaluated the road the day before up until the point where it splits and signs indicated the remainder of the road should be 4WD, high-clearance vehicles only. We had heard that 2WD cars could make it to the lower lot, but we hadn’t exactly evaluated the road past the fork, so this caused us, especially Jess, some anxiety. We made it up the road only passing one vehicle, a truck from the Ouray Silver Mines company. This was a relief because the road narrowed to a single-car width with a cliff on one side at numerous points, and we definitely did not want to have to back up in the middle of the night in the dark. When we got past the fork indicating 4WD only, the road definitely got rougher. At one point it was clear that we were in 4wd territory and we all got out to give additional clearance and let Alex guide Jess through the rough spots of the road. Jess drove the Crosstrek like a pro. No surprise to me as we had seen him drive SMV — “soccer mom van” — through some sketchy 4WD territory in Fern, Arkansas. A few rough spots and about a mile and a half later we arrived at a parking area which we figured was the lower lot we had been told about. We got out and prepped for the big hike. I was relieved we made this part safely, honestly I only slept about two hours, it was hard to sleep knowing that an early morning with lots of dangerous elements was about to happen.

Headlamps, gloves, hiking poles, three liters of water, energy bars, lunch, climbing helmets, hats, sunscreen… check check check. I was nervous, we were barely beginning what was to be a big day of hiking and I wasn’t entirely sure how much work it was going to be. We hiked up the road, used the bathroom at the base road, and continued trekking with our headlamps up the steep, rough road. At some point I looked up and stopped Jess to observe the bright stars and the visibly dense Milky Way above us for just a moment before pressing on. Somehow we did miss a right turn and had to do a bit of bushwhacking to get back on the trail.

Alex and Maribel checked elevation gain and mileage via gps to ensure we stayed on course in the dark. The moon was a beautiful crescent accompanying what must have been Venus that came and went with some passing clouds. Finally, around 5:30 the sky started to gradually lighten and we could see a bit more clearly the path ahead of us. We arrived at a sign indicating the trails to Blue Lakes Pass, Mount Sneffels, or East Dallas Trailhead and stopped to observe the alpenglow on the peaks surrounding us.

We thought we were making pretty good time, you can see from the sign that Sneffels was merely .7 miles, almost there! We had discussed that it would be cool to summit at sunrise, still an hour or so away when the sky started lightening, but as we hiked on the trail was more rocks and less mixed rock and dirt. Every step had to be taken carefully as to not twist an ankle or get a hiking pole stuck.

As we rounded the trail we approached the scree field — mixed loose rock and some fairly large boulders, we were grateful to have the trail mostly to ourselves as the danger of falling rock was imminent. This is why we wore our helmets, and hoped that other hikers were also wearing theirs.

We safely ascended the scree field and only started some minor rock falls. A group of hikers was coming up behind us quickly, so we were even more slow and careful than we had been in our nuclear group. It’s probably not obvious but the grade here is between 30º and 45º.

Jess decided to put away his hiking poles and scramble up, grabbing onto big semi-stable rocks and choosing footing carefully. Maribel and I were partial to the hiking poles to steady us… honestly there was no tried and true method as every move was unique and tested balance and agility. Jess and I went farther left and ended up further up the saddle. Here we took a little breather and shared a protein bar.

From the saddle, we turned left and there loomed… you guessed it… another boulder field, the Lavender Couloir. A bit more steep and more narrow. The hikers below us caught up to us by now. They went up the left side of the boulder field, we went up the right. The side of the boulder field had huge boulders that plenty of holds one can use to ‘side-pull’ your way up. Progress up this more inclined boulder field was a bit faster than the last. At the top of the couloir we finally reached the ‘crux’ of the climb.

The V-Notch. The V notch is nothing more than a tight ‘V’ shaped opening thru a couple of steep boulders. The problem is its location. To the left of the notch is the edge of a sheer cliff. If you lose your grip while going thru the notch and you tumble out, you have a 50-50 chance you’ll fall off the left side, and off the cliff you go.

Honestly, I thought about bailing at this point… the view was spectacular already, but the consequences of slipping were definitely weighing on my mind. As a climber, if this was on flat ground I would definitely do it, but this was no joke. Legs were a bit shaky from climbing up the boulder field, the hands a bit tired from gripping the hiking poles, the backpack filled with water provided just enough weight to knock you off balance and of course the altitude at (now I’m assuming at least 14k) made even the slightest rise in heart rate result in a little bit of a vertigo-dizziness feeling. Jess told me to remove my backpack and leave it to collect later and told me exactly where to grab the rock. Climber talk: there was a good jug (huge place to hold onto) in order to pull yourself up into the notch; another jug along the top of the right side to get yourself into the notch, a little bit of wedging yourself in and a backstep to feel more secure, then it was just a butt-shuffle to get through. I looked back and saw Maribel was in the same place I was, not wanting to risk this possibly going wrong. I was glad to have made it through to another 100 feet or so of scrambling through more solid rocks to get to the actual summit. This part was even more dizzying as it felt as if you were in one of those distorted 360º VR cameras, seeing dramatic beautiful mountains below us on every side. It becomes hard to get your perspective on what’s steep and distance at this point because it’s very surreal because as humans we rarely get to experience this perspective, the mind has a difficult time processing. Or maybe its just the altitude.

Here are a few videos taken from the top for reference.

We spent a good four plus hours getting to the top and only spent about 20 minutes actually taking it all in, taking photos, enjoying the view, resting our legs. The descent was going to be just as technical, and the body is more tired by this point, which makes injury and accidents more likely. We took our time. We did a fair bit of butt-sliding and I did a lot of downclimbing while hanging on to good holds on the side the boulder gulley, this made the steps down seem more stable and less likely to grab onto a huge loosely balanced rock that might tumble into hikers below.

The descent down the boulder field was just as sketchy. I found a path of loose scree and gravel with no hikers in my down-line, I was able to do a combination of glissading/sliding by planting a hiking pole until I stopped then rotating my body and doing it again. It felt slow and dangerous but as I looked down the field at Tri and Alex and up at Jess and Maribel, no one seemed to have a perfect technique for this. My goal was to keep my balance and not through rocks down below or start a rockslide.

Honestly, the trip down seemed longer than the trip up. Maybe it was the fatigue or the fact that the anticipation was gone, maybe the lack of oxygen and now intense, although not hot, sun was starting to wear us out, but as soon as we got out of the scree field and back onto the long path of large flat rocks that barely made a trail back to the main trail I realized just how long the hike had been.

Perhaps hiking up in the darkness kept our focus just one step ahead of us to a meditative degree. Had I known just how long and hard it would have been I might have thought it wasn’t worth it. Who knows. I know that each step, each conversation, every minute of spending time with these beautiful four human beings whom I love to spend time with climbing walls is always worth it. And that’s the important part, that’s the juice — the moments in between the anticipation and the summit, the fluff that doesn’t make the photos where I got to hear about Maribel’s other epic mountaineering adventures on 17ers (!) in Mexico, I got to know Tri just a little bit better, I got to enjoy Alex’s dry German sense of humor, and I got to climb a mountain with a man I love and respect and have the privilege of calling my partner. The bond that grows between a group of friends who accomplish something that very few people (relatively speaking) get to do. Feeling strong and confident in a body that I all too often take for granted, that can get me up a mountain safely to see and experience something amazing.