Two in the Bag!

Two mountains, that is!

That's right--this past weekend, we "bagged" not only our first, but second 14er! (14er = mountain peak exceeding 14,000 ft. in elevation). There are 53 such peaks in our great state--the most famous being Pike's Peak--and especially among the locals, climbing these mountains (aka "peak bagging") is like a rite of passage. We'd been planning the climb for awhile in honor of my last year in my twenties (the alternate title for this post being "Before I'm Officially Old") and also because the mountain lakes hike we'd promised to try together is kinda for experts, as it turns out. So we thought it might be wise to work our way up. To start out, we opted for one of the "easiest" 14ers out there and began planning.

(Note: I said "easiest" because I  actually thought they would be pretty easy. I was totally schooled).

Source

We ultimately picked Gray's Peak because it's conveniently 'connected' to Torrey's Peak via a small saddle, giving us the chance to bag a twofer. Based on the weather leading up to the climb, we thought we might have to cancel the trip. But Saturday offered a brief break in the torrential downpours so we took a gamble and headed toward the trail.

We woke up before the sun and made it to the base as the first rays of light broke through the clouds...

Rocky Mountain sunrise

...and I had lovely visions of quality time and engaging conversation during the first leg of the trail, but quickly realized that walking and talking at 11,000 ft. is like trying to run and talk at 5,000 ft. Apparently living "at altitude" in the mile-high city still won't make you immune to the thin air 6,000 ft. above you. So I was a little appalled by all my huffing and puffing from the beginning, and knowing how out of shape I've been when it comes to the endurance factor, I was slightly concerned about ascending 3,000 more vertical feet with increasingly thin air. I kept thinking that the people who even think about climbing Everest--which is twice as high--are seriously insane.

Starting out!

Still, it was an unbelievably beautiful trip through the sub-alpine and alpine zones. Crystal clear waters, picas running around and squeaking, flowers and lichen toughing it out in an otherwise unforgiving climate--I'll let the pictures do the talking.

 We added celebratory rocks to the first cairn on the trail, then continued to meander up...and up...and up and up and up.

We took a few water and snack breaks, and met a kind older gentleman (climbing his tenth 14er) with a sweet golden retriever named Gracie. She greeted us happily and hung out with us for awhile as we kept up our weary pace. He said "we do one, they always do two!" referring to his pup as she ran ahead of him, then doubled back to meet him before trotting ahead again. I think she might have actually gone triple the distance, and she served as my motivation for at least a few hundred meters!

My words simply can't do justice to the amazing views and rock formations we saw as we got higher.

There's not much else to tell about the trek up, except that it was wayyyy more rocky and hard to walk on than it looked from the base, it took a really long time, and I spent a great amount of effort convincing myself to just get to that next rock before doubling over and sucking wind...then counting to three and willing myself to focus on another rock a little farther ahead. I'm thankful that my husband was the only one around to see me pitifully hugging a rock and muttering ladylike things such as "ughhh this sucks." (Blessedly, he is just as good at gently encouraging me as I am at apologizing incessantly for being a wimp).

But suddenly toward the top, during one of my more desperate rock-hugging episodes, Peter said "hey I think that little wooden sign is the summit!"

See that summit sign?! (Yeah, me neither).

I believe I told him to stop messing with me or something to that effect, as I fully believed that it was just another sign taunting us to 'stay on the trail.' But no, he was right. And with a few more big steps and gaspy breaths, we were at the top!

It took almost exactly three hours from base to peak, which wasn't bad considering it was our first.

[Please excuse the oxygen-deprived filmography]

We gleefully signed our names on the roster...

My fingers were a little frozen...

...and posed for some victory shots before picking a pile of rocks where we could to bundle up (it was about 30 degrees at the top) and grab the lunch we'd packed.

Victory!

We also took pictures with our Wich Wich bags, of course, so we could get our free sandwich. (It's the little things).

Top of the world.

Next plan: Camp here!

Now, the whole way up Gray's, I was staring at Torrey's peak, knowing we intended to try both, and observing how much more drastic the slope actually was compared to the pictures I'd seen,and  thinking how far down we'd have to go before going back up. In the midst of my torture I could not comprehend why anyone would voluntarily go through it yet again just a few minutes after the pain of the first. And it was clearly steeper than what we'd just climbed. The little dots of people going down were moving very slowly, and the dots going up seemed to be moving not at all. 

The way from Gray's to Torrey's!
Those dots you probably can't see on the trail and the peak are actually people...

So I'd effectively decided that nothing could convince me to be so foolish as to join them for round two. But, selective amnesia got me at the top of Gray's, and I could breathe again, and Peter was excited about going for numero dos...and suddenly climbing Torrey's didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

View from Gray's-Torrey's Saddle

It looked like some clouds were moving in, so we quickly finished up our lunch, and I practically skipped down the saddle with the help of gravity and some much-needed extra oxygen. I was almost laughing at my prior hesitation when we reached the bottom of the saddle, until the second we started going up again. And I once again started cursing every inch of the 'step, grab rock, wheeze, repeat' cycle. Torrey's definitely felt more brutal than Gray's. And there was a dark, ugly-looking cloud on the horizon, which made me even more frustrated with my snail's pace. But there was Peter again, pointing to the people directly ahead of us and suddenly saying "look, they're hugging, I think they're at the summit!" So I gave it all I had, and soon we were there too. We grabbed our obligatory Wich Wich pictures and the group ahead of us kindly took a few shots of Peter and me together.

This is my "don't mind me, I'm busy dying" smile.

Of course, only a moment after reaching the peak we heard a loud clap of thunder from the ugly cloud in the distance. We weren't about to become a news story, so we high-tailed it out of there, practically running down the mountain. Just as we got below the ridgeline, some cold, wet snow started slapping us in the face, and we spent a fair amount of the descent in the middle of a swirling little blizzard. (Which was very pretty, actually, but I don't have pictures because I was smart enough to put my camera away)! As we got lower it changed to a light rain, and we slowed a bit to say hi again to the gentleman and our puppy friend Gracie who had climbed Torrey's. We chatted for a bit, then moved on as the sun came out again for a few minutes to warm us.

We hiked through a little more drizzle and finally made it back to the parking lot safe and sound, in a slight state of disbelief and with a huge sense of accomplishment!

Two down, only 51 more to go!

(We also made sure that Peter did his
shirt justice when we got home!)

-     -     -     -

In other birthday news, my incredibly kind in-laws threw me an early birthday party after our descent, complete with a cake free of gluten and dairy that my mother-in-law managed to bake with the "help" of three little sous-chefs. (This was in addition to enduring a slumber party the night before with said sous-chefs, and a full day trying to entertain them while we were off climbing mountains)!

Then my husband, who still manages to surprise me (even though I still choose to believe he is incapable of such things), arranaged for friends to whisk me away for a surprise birthday dinner after church Sunday night.

And then he took the day off of work on my actual birthday so I could have a day off and enjoy my massage (which, I might add, was a very smart move to schedule post-hike!).  Am I not the most undeservedly spoiled mom/wife/friend ever?

We also went out to lunch for our celebratory 14er Wich Wiches, because it was only logical:

Most importantly, thank you ALL from the bottom of my heart for your calls, messages, thoughts, and prayers that made it such an amazing, love-filled day--I'm just so moved by all the thoughtfulness you showered on little old me. And I'm SO blessed to be celebrating the gift of another amazing year of life with all of you!