I never liked camping.
Anyone who knows me well appreciates the fact that my idea of “camping out” is drinking a chocolate martini within the comforts of a five-star hotel.
So when my friend told me, a month before my visit to Colorado, that we would camp out and summit a Colorado fourteener, I thought he was kidding. I could not possibly climb a 14,000-foot mountain. It simply exceeded my physical capabilities and mental boundaries. Plus, “roughing it” was just not my style.
But despite my fear, camping and hiking proved inevitable. If I wanted to visit with my friends Travis, Kelly, and Chet, I would have to face the mountain. So we set out for Gray’s Peak, supposedly the “easiest” climb of the 54 fourteeners in Colorado.
We traveled about 40 minutes from the city of Denver where a two-mile stretch of treacherous, steep and rocky road directed us to the campsite. I held on tightly with sweaty palms as our truck struggled to scale the narrow pathway. Peering out the passenger side window, looking at the sharp drop-off beside me, a lump formed in the pit of my stomach. I knew at this point that I had two long days ahead of me.
Once we arrived, we set up our tents, started a fire, and gawked at the mountains surrounding us on all sides. I felt like a miniature doll amidst the towering peaks. Taking a moment to glance upward, we saw the sky shining with the light of more stars than I had ever seen. I guess at 11,000 feet, you’re quite a bit closer to the sky. Yet, while I felt closer to the stars, I also felt so distant from the usual comforts of home. A warm sleeping bag inside a small tent replaced my usual queen-sized bed and comfy down pillows.
The next morning, we awoke bright and early to a clear, crisp June day. Gray’s Peak called to us. After breakfast, we embarked on a six-hour adventure of incompre- hensible magnitude, and I was petrified.
Our climb began at 11,000 feet on a gently climbing stairway. Four miles up, four miles back, and over 6,000 vertical feet round trip; this was the Gray’s Peak summit. Luckily, Chet lent me his climbing poles – for physical and mental stability. During the initial section of the trail, we crossed tiny trickles of water and walked up a small graded path of rocks. This easy section allowed me to learn the tricks of the poles, of breathing at such a high altitude, and the importance of drinking lots of water.
Soon enough, we had hiked well above tree line, and we had trekked through more and more patches of snow. The path grew steeper, making each step more difficult than the previous one. In the snow and ice, I struggled to find solid ground to secure my path. I drank more water, as I gasped to catch my breath. We reached a snow plateau and rested. I put on sunglasses to protect my eyes from the snow’s glare. Due to the decreasing temperatures, we added layer upon layer of clothing. From here we would zigzag our way to the summit, through even deeper snow and ice and up steeper grades.
With each step closer to the top, I grew more and more fearful. It finally hit me; a helicopter would not be awaiting our arrival at the top. Once we reached our goal, we would have to retrace our steps back down 3,000 vertical feet. I would see how high we had climbed and how many drop-offs we had dodged.
Finding another spot to rest, I so badly wanted to quit and just wait patiently for my friends, but they would not allow me to do that. So, I continued up the mountain, exhausted and nauseated with fear. Although the end was in sight, I still didn’t think I could do it.
“After climbing a great hill, one only finds
that there are many more hills to climb.”– Nelson Mandela
However, before I had time to think about it, I had reached the peak! Hiding tears of relief behind my sunglasses, I felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. My heart beat faster and faster. I had done it! And the view, the unfathomable view, left me breathless and overwhelmed.
It finally hit me why people summit the Colorado fourteeners. As I sat on top of the world, looking out over God’s creation, I was free from technology, free from the troubles of the world. Snow-capped mountains filled all the space that my eyes could see. The snow glistened in the light of the sun, and the blue sky caressed the mountaintops. Was this real or was I just a character on a perfectly painted canvas?
My fear subsided. I no longer felt like a miniature doll at the base of the mountain, but rather a giant on top of it.
After relishing in the moment, we started our descent. Chet taught me his “Three Blind Mice” cadence to help me find a rhythmic stride. Slowly and carefully, I walked down the mountain, repeating the cheerful tune over and over in my head. With precision and strategy, I fought momentum and tested various paths in order to get down safely. A few slips and slides later, we returned to tree line and the last two miles of lower grades and wider paths.
With our campsite in view, relief flooded my veins. I was finally able to exhale.
I broke my mental boundary that day, the day I climbed Gray’s Peak. I broke a mental boundary that previously had prevented me from making incredible climbs and seeing wondrous views. No, I did not do it alone. I needed some strong convincing from some wise friends who knew what I would miss if I did not reach the top. They were right. In those short six hours, I felt every emotion from sheer fear to utter peacefulness. I laughed, and I cried. I hiked parts of the trail with ease while I struggled through many other sections. And through it all, I needed my companions to support my journey and to help celebrate my victory.
Will I ever climb another Colorado fourteener? Maybe. At least now I know that I can.
– Emily Wagner '01
is an admission
counselor at Albright.
