I took a beautiful hike at Alderfer/Three Sisters Open Space Park today with a good friend of mine. I really recommend this place to everyone, from hikers and mountain bikers to runners and walkers. There is so much to see and do here, so many trails to explore and the views are breathtaking. Right now the hikes offer great views of the snow-dotted mountains as well as a whole array of wildflowers and wildlife.
Close Call at 14,000 Feet
Heart racing and bent double from exhaustion, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself on my shaking knees. My hands and feet were ice cold, but at the same time I was sweating bullets. My breathing was shallow and ragged; I felt like I just couldn’t get enough air into my screaming lungs. Every time I opened my eyes, I saw the valley below in a swirl. I remember thinking to myself, “This must be what it’s like to get a swirly”. An odd thought, considering the timing. But it’s not uncommon to have odd thoughts creep into your head at the most inopportune of times. Distantly, as if someone had placed muffling headphones over my ears, I heard my mother talking to me: “Let’s go back. This isn’t good. We need to get you down.” But I shook my head resolutely and planted my feet firmly on the ground; I had come this far and I wasn’t going to turn back now. Suddenly I was buffeted by a bone-chilling gust of wind. I swayed on the 3-foot wide ridge and stepped on a lose rock, which slipped out from under my boot and clattered down the 1000-foot cliff. The slip left me tottering on the edge for a split second, before I managed to kneel on the ice-cold rocks and collapse against an enormous boulder. My mom hovered right beside me, urging me to turn around. We had already climbed one peak, Grays, and another one was not worth my being so sick. We could always come back and try again, she said. But again I shook my head and slowly raised myself to my wobbly legs. At the time, I really wasn’t aware of what had just happened, and how serious my situation really was. To this day, my mom reminds me of how freaked out she was. And I’m not really sure why she let me continue; most parents would have said enough. But she knew how important this was to me, so I think that’s why she, hesitantly, mind you, let me continue. And to this day, I’m grateful that she did. Finally I managed to stand upright without swaying. I took a step, then another and then another, until I had a rhythm going. One step, one heartbeat, one breath at a time, and a short while later I stood on the second summit, Torreys Peak. I remember almost crawling to the highest point so that my mom could get a picture. Honestly, I didn’t give a hoot about the darn picture at the time, but I stood on the boulder anyway, raised my arms and stretched an exhausted smile across my face. At eleven years old, crippled with severe altitude sickness, I had conquered both Grays and Torreys Peaks. Whenever I tell this story, people naturally expect me to say that, when I had made it to the top of Torreys Peak, that’s when my obsession with climbing Colorado’s 14ers first began. And I was elated to have done it, but it was also the most difficult thing I had done up to that point in my life, and I vowed to never do it again. To be honest, I’m not sure where the desire to climb mountains again came from. Perhaps it lay dormant in my heart for many years, but I’m certainly glad it’s back. Thirteen years later, for my 5th anniversary, I climbed Mount Bierstadt with the love of my life, Tyler. At first, I was really afraid that I would be afflicted with altitude sickness again, and it frightened me so much that I almost decided against starting climbing again. Grays and Torreys Peaks serve as a sober reminder of what can happen when you ignore the warning signs. In hindsight, I was very close to dying that day; one more inch and I would have tumbled down the 1000-foot cliff. I’m constantly reminded that, when you’re climbing, you don’t determine whether or not you get to the summit that day. The mountains, always, govern whether you succeed or fail. And it’s up to us to sometimes admit defeat. You can always return to stand upon the sky-high summit the next day. I did return to climb Grays and Torreys in the summer of 2010. By early morning, Tyler and I had reached the top of Grays Peak, ate a quick snack, packed up and descended to the saddle connecting the sister peaks. Around 10 o’clock, we reached the ridge leading to the second summit. Suddenly, amidst my rhythmic walking, I stopped so abruptly that Tyler walked right into me. At first, I wasn’t sure why I stopped, and Tyler was left confused as well. He asked me I if I needed to take a rest. But I wasn’t out of breath, or tired, or thirsty. But then I took stock of where I was. Something had made me stop in the exact same place where I had had my close call thirteen years ago. Except now, when I looked down the valley, I could see all the beautiful details: the lingering patches of snow, the dilapidated old miner’s cabin, the silver stream spilling down the mountainside. So that’s what that swirling kaleidoscope thirteen years ago had been. I smiled, looked at the summit above me, winked at it like I always do, and slipped back into my familiar rhythm, ready to the see the summit with new eyes. I came across these the other day. I was 11 years old when I climbed both peaks with my mom, Sophia, and our faithful dog, Navajo. At the time, I was terribly afflicted by altitude sickness, to such an extent that it took me thirteen years to start climbing again. A little trip down memory lane. The full story was published in the February 2012 issue of Colorado Serenity Magazine.
Below is a collection of photos from today's adventure to Pine Valley, where our trip took us along a wonderful seven-mile loop. The recreational park in and of itself is gorgeous, but there is a whole giant network of fun and exciting trails that go beyond the park's boundaries. The day couldn't have been more beautiful, with a crisp chill in the morning and a warm sun shining on your back in the afternoon. I highly recommend this little park to anyone interested in hiking, mountain biking, or just taking a scenic walk.
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