Mount Yale

After our decision to focus on 14ers, we hitched a ride and slept in charming Gunnison, Colorado - a town of 5,000 with one foot firmly planted in its soul.  Even though it has a Walmart, the bookstore and shops at its thriving centre evinced a sense of simple, homespun community.  

After a great coffee at The Bean, we were on a mission - soon collecting our rental truck from the small local airport, where we were surprised to learn they land 747s in winter!

The day was clear and angelic, and after a winding 3 hour drive we were at the base of Mount Yale, ready to start the hike at about 2pm. The guidebook said to allow 8 hours, but we figured that as we'd ascended Elbert in 6 hours when the guidebook said 9, it must be a wimpy guidebook. We would rue that assumption. 

The first couple of hours of the hike meandered up and down, and we couldn't understand why this climb was rated difficult. Bubbling streams and lush forest undergrowth unfolded forever, but finally gave way to a proper hike about 4pm, when the tree line gave way to mountainous views. 

After a good hour or so, the incline got pretty steep for a hike, and we thought we understood the rating. 

The thin air and sharp climb strained the system; it was slow going.  But my heart and breathing were normal - it's hard to describe but I could tell the fatigue reflected the effort. There were none of the sharp inhales like before. 

Finally about 530 pm we were on the cusp of the summit. There was no clear trail, so we ended up climbing up a jungle gym like rock formation, to enjoy a truly exalted view. 

We were surrounded by mountains on all sides,

And truly felt like we were on top of the world. 

Charlotte was both relaxed and excited at the same time - her first 360 view summit. 

It was about 630, and I realized I'd forgotten to pack the headlamps. First mistake. The sun sets about 830 around here, and we had a big hike down. Then, from the summit we could see what looked like a trail meandering down the west side of the mountain, towards the north side where our trail had ended. Second mistake - I broke one of the cardinal rules - unless you know the mountain, go down the way you came up. 

I had assumed I'd just missed the trail, but it proved not to be a trail, and now rather than a simple jungle gym climb down to our trail, we were about 100 foot down the wrong side of the mountain, scaling our way across to the north side. The climb itself was easy (5.4ish, for the climbers out there), but that wasn't the point. It was untested, the rock could be loose, the drop was mild but still looked painful, I was leading Charlotte, who'd never done any climbing so needed to go slow for her, but it was also getting late, and we had a big hike down the mountain with no headlamps, so I needed us to have some urgency. In short, it was a far edgier situation than was needed (like the pun?). 

 

Perhaps the most worrying part was that, owing to the thin air my own thinking wasn't very clear. I can't explain it now - it wasn't altitude sickness as described online.  I had no headache or nausea, my movement was dexterous, and my energy was strong. But Charlotte told me that I repeated myself on several occasions and I was surprised to hear it - I didn't remember saying whatever the previous time..!  At one point, I couldn't remember the code to unlock my own phone! 

So I can only say my head was in the air, which I guess explains why I would try to descend a different route (but it did look like a trail!!)

Regardless, it was 730pm by the time we got to the head of our trail at the cusp of the summit, with a long way down. 

The impending sunset looked gorgeous, but we had no time to enjoy it. 

We then ran down the trail as quickly as the steep incline would allow. Looking back, it was pretty exciting - we jumped and ran and did a mountain version of parkour, but at the time we had no idea how far we would get with the light we had. It was intense. 

Finally, we just got to the meandering bit of the hike just as the dark night descended.  We walked hand in hand for the last hour of the hike, swimming in the shared exhilaration of what we'd just experienced. 

Change of Plan

After the heroics of our first leg, I guess it was inevitable the power and majesty of the Colorado Rockies would remind us who is boss. Never underestimate Mother Nature. 

Before we get to that update, however, some catch up is in order. 

After we glided so magically into Leadville a day and a half ahead of schedule, we decided a little white water rafting would be in order.  So we hitched back to Twin Lakes..

Where Charlotte got to enjoy a ride in the back of a pickup - always a highlight.  

We booked the guys from Elk Mountain Adventures, and drove out beneath Mount Hope..

to have a blast on some Class 4 rapids down the Arkansas River,

which Charlotte thoroughly enjoyed,

even if her paddle rarely seemed to find the river!  :)

That evening we found a straggling hiker named Rummy who had little money, no room rented, and a trail-beaten expression. We asked our incredibly warm and charming host Bruce from WindSpirit cabins if she could just put her tent in the grass outside our cabin, and he offered that plus a shower and laundry. Bruce, as you know, you have three more raving fans. We had a lovely evening of a campfire with smores. 

The next morning we set off for another 4000 ft incline up to Hope Pass with this encouraging sign. 

We didn't see any mountain lions, but we did have this hike profile to look forward to:

For some reason neither of us really understand, our feet were like lead. Every step seemed a chore, every switchback a crisis. Maybe the marshmallows were bad, but both of our tummies were unsettled and we had, shall we say delicately, a non-solid intestinal foundation.  We felt rotten.  

Even getting to the summit of the pass itself, the achievement of which is normally guaranteed to lighten any difficulty, seemed a faded relief. 

And the view that greeted us seemed like an ill omen, a harbinger of torment, with grey clouds looming ominously. 

We didn't speak much, and hurried down the mountain ahead of the sound of cracking thunder in the distance. 

That evening I felt a growing unease. I hadn't said anything, but I'd had several instances when I'd had to really gasp for air since the beginning of the trip.  I exercise a decent amount, and this wasn't a normal gasp. I knew it was my system getting used to the altitude, and concluded that if I just powered through the discomfort, my heart would grow accustomed to the lack of oxygen.  As many know, I've had two open-heart surgeries, with both my aortic and pulmonic valves being replaced due to a congenital malformation.  So I now have moderate regurgitation.  My cardiologist had approved the trip, with the understanding that any shortness of breath should not be ignored.  

Of course, I'd ignored the first few instances, but rather than fade, the symptoms seemed to be getting worse.  The Rockies are just plain badass. I've also had several migraines, and frankly wasn't enjoying much of it myself, but vicariously enjoyed watching Charlotte do so incredibly. I figured it was a time for dad to grin and bear it. 

So it was with haggard enthusiasm that I entered the collegiate peaks. 

As the next day dawned, and we started up another huge incline to Lake Ann Pass, I finally shared with Charlotte the difficulty I was having. 

Rather than be disappointed, she was amazing. She helped me realise the one leg of the trip that I'd been truly spritely was the hike up Mt Elbert. While this was the highest altitude we climbed, it was the only leg of the trip where I hadn't carried a heavy backpack - we had pitched the tent beforehand, stowed the gear, and only had water and clothes in the pack. Rather than carrying 30 lbs, I was carrying five. 

Charlotte also confided to having some discomfort with the pack and the altitude, but hadn't wanted to disappoint me!

So we talked it through and came up with a change of plan. We figure my heart was ok hiking without the weight of the pack. So rather than hike the rest of the Colorado Trail (we've already done about 100 miles of it), we're going to rent a truck, and go hike up 9 more 14,000 ft peaks. We won't have to carry heavy packs, and we'll actually do about the same amount of climbing as doing the trail itself. 

So the Rite of Adventure will be 100 miles and 10 peaks. Not bad. 

Decision made, we traversed Lake Ann Pass, and spent a day and night and another day hiking and hitching through driving storms and hail and thunder and lightning.   

 

When you're in the middle of nowhere, getting somewhere takes a while!

Along the way, we met this beaver like creature, who got as close to us as the photo looks. Anybody have any idea what this thing is?!

Now we're in Gunnison, where we'll soon rent a F150 pickup truck and head to Mount Yale, a classic 14er. 

Its a change of plan, but still a big challenge, and now even more of an adventure. 

A Breathtaking Start

Charlotte and I lay here off-trail in a hotel room we didn't book, on a day we didn't plan, but there the similarities end to last year's 'Rough Start'. 

It's been unexpected to see just how different the ecology of the Colorado mountains are from their brothers in California. They're both part of the Rockies, after all.  But the rainfall Colorado enjoys, as compared to California's seemingly perennial drought conditions, impacts everything. 

So Charlotte and I began ascending from the base of Copper Mountain to a plush orchestra of vivid life. At every turn of the trail there've been bubbling streams and wild flowers, and a lot of animals. We've seen mule deer and 3 huge moose, as well as heaps of little creatures.   Mesmerising. 

Still, Charlotte's first 10 miles were almost all uphill, with over 3000 feet of elevation gain, and a fully laden pack. I was a little nervous for her, and had us planned to do just 12-15 miles a day for the first few days. 

She tackled her first ascent up to Searle Pass with determination, full of her playful self at the top of it...

...and we were spoiled to our first view of the mountains we'd be spending the next few weeks trekking through. 

We then enjoyed several miles of hiking above the tree line, around 12000 ft. The thin air presents different challenges, and we can both feel ourselves getting used to it, but fortunately no altitude sickness. 

To my surprise, after all those miles, Charlotte had reserves of energy, and we ended up camping near Tennessee Pass, having hiked 17 miles on her first day.  She killed it. 

My Dad will be pleased to note the damp conditions were no match for his son's fire-making skills. 

The second day would get a bit more serious. The inclines of the first day had been gentle, steady rises, albeit in these higher altitudes. The next day had much sharper rises, with some truly mean grades. 

As we began them, we met a troop of Scouts, 14-18 year olds, boyishly bantering with good humor at how tough these hills were. Well, she didn't say it in so many words, but I think Charlotte wanted to beat those boys. 

All I know is she was like a girl on fire, and I didn't manage to get any more photos until we'd completely passed them all after the second of the summits...

...and once we'd truly left them in the dust on the third peak, when Charlotte had an uncharacteristic mid-day nap, exhausted from her efforts. 

After this nap, she decided to tackle one more summit, such that we hiked 23 miles on her 2nd day of hiking, with nearly a mile of altitude gain!! 

Having hiked 41 miles in her first two days, we were only 16 miles from our first break, which means we were going to arrive to Twin Lakes 2 full days ahead of schedule!!  So Charlotte decided for her third day we would hike 10 miles to the base of Mt Elbert, have a break, then attempt to summit the 2nd highest mountain in Colorado at 4pm.  This was exciting.  We would have three hours to hike up over 4000 ft of elevation to catch a sunset summit, and would then have to hike down from the summit after dark!

I wanted to make sure I wasnt being disaster dad, so I asked a park ranger where the plan sat on the range of awesome to crazy, and she agreed it sounded awesome. The incline was incredibly steep, she said, but if we could physically handle it, it wasn't dangerous. We were in. 

We pitched our tent, and laid out all our gear, including sleeping bags. If all went to plan, we wouldn't get back from the mountain until about 10pm, and knew we'd just want to fall asleep. 

The next three hours of climbing were positively numbing. Neither of us truly appreciated what climbing that elevation in that sort of time entails. As we ascended the descending climbers either offered lame offers of good luck, or said nothing, with forlorn stares - what were we doing. 

Well, despite their worries we made it to the cusp of the summit - behind us you'll notice Mt Massive, another 14,000 ft mountain. 

We got our warm clothes on to watch the sunset..

And waited for the experience which our photos do not do justice. 

We then got into adventure mode, with headlamps on, to decline the mountain..

...and Charlotte was just amazing. 

We fell into our tent exhausted having hiked 18 miles, including over 5000 feet of elevation gain, and 9,000 feet of elevation change, on the day. 

So that's how we came to be a day ahead of schedule, and only 5 miles outside of Twin Lakes this morning. 

Once we found Twin Lakes, which required some off-piste orienteering as we decided to change trails, Charlotte decided we ought to hitchhike into Leadville, the highest city in America at 10,400 ft.  We met Dave, a really interesting fisherman who has hitched and hiked around America, Europe, and other parts of the world since the 50s!  Thanks Dave!

so that's where we are now. 

First leg, complete. Two days off.  Frankly, I think we're both in shock, our bodies overwhelmed from the effort. Truly a breathtaking start. 

Today is the Day

Today my Dad and I begin my Rite of Passage and hike the Colorado Trail. It seems like only yesterday that Dad gave me the booklet of options on my 11^th birthday.  Those two years have flown and I have now reached the “age of maturity”, as we call it.  I have never done anything like this, but I know it is going to be an experience I’ll never forget.

                                          

The plan is that today Dad and I will fly to Denver. Our first, nerve-racking night (how am I supposed to sleep?!) will be spent in Denver before we pick up our last few supplies and head to the trail. We will catch a bus along highway 70 until we reach the Copper Mountain Trailhead.

And then it begins…

The trail is spread across the most mountainous area of Colorado, from Denver to Durango. It is known for its rocky mountain elevations, its massive summer thunderstorms and of course the beautiful scenery. The trail is actually 486 miles long but as we only have four weeks, after starting the hike at Copper Mountain we will be hiking about 300 miles to Silverton.  I know - lightweights.

Most of the trail we will hike is 10,000 feet above sea level with the highest reaching almost 14,000 feet..!!  Altitude sickness affects people at 9,000 feet, so we’re concerned about adjusting to the elevation.  We have to take it slow at first.  Our first leg will be six days of hiking, and we will then stop for a night at Twin Lakes, which is when you'll get the next report.  Hopefully, it won't have any photos of mine or dad's feet!

I am filled with mixed emotions - excited, scared, eager, and nervous – all at the same time.  I really have no idea what to expect, although Ben has done his best to both encourage and tease me over the last few weeks, he has mentioned that he wants to be the one hiking! I also want to thank grandpa for all the time and effort he has put into it, we wouldn't be where we are without him. 

I do know that I’m looking forward to spending time with Dad on this amazing adventure and I consider myself to be very lucky.

Colorado Bound

The first rule of Fight Club is you never talk about Fight Club.  But the rules are broken every week, as more guys show up, and it’s partly the paradox of that discipline which enthrals them, and us.

On her 11^th birthday, the Colorado Trail wasn’t one of Charlotte’s options.  Yet to the CT we’re bound. 

She chose to hike the Haute Pyrenean route, which straddles the border of France and Spain from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.  We’d done our homework, and that was the choice.  Nevertheless, in our rite of passage recipe, which is meant to provide Charlotte with lessons in discipline, courage and resilience, we’ve added a dash of flexibility.

We have Grandpa to thank.  Early this year, my dad suggested we find someone online who’d hiked both the PCT, for which we had a true taste last summer, and the HP.  Great idea!

So dad found this wonderful German lady named Christine who has hiked twenty-two 1000-mille+ hikes around the world (!!!), and both the PCT and HP are among them.  She has more experience in her little finger than we’ll ever have.  She was incredibly helpful, but her report was grim.

Apparently, as beautiful as the HP is, it’s not maintained like the trails in America, such that certain sections have dissolved into fairly steep scree which can be technically difficult, and dangerous, to traverse.  She also reported the campsites themselves are often overrun with teenagers having a jolly time – I guess the mountains aren’t THAT remote in Europe – which leaves the weary backpacker sometimes trying to sleep through the sounds of their merry-making.  And finally, the towns just don’t stock so many hiker-friendly resupplies. 

Clearly, the first was the only red flag we needed.  Even after last summer I consider myself a novice hiker, and this is meant to be fun.

So a new plan was needed.  Charlotte and I looked at both the Colorado Trail, and the Washington State section of the PCT, and Charlotte decided on the CT.  I won’t go into the minutiae of every detail we discussed, but I will share which was her deciding factor.

The Colorado Trail is on the east side of the Rockies, and just to its east are the plains of the American Midwest – a massive bread basket.  So every day of the summer you have this cold air coming over the Rockies meeting the heat coming off the grasslands of American farming.

We all know what happens when you get cold and hot air meeting, especially at this scale - big, bad thunderstorms.  Apparently, really exciting ones.  And although my dad championed the state of Washington for this reason, my Charlotte wanted to be near the action.

I am so excited.  I love thunderstorms.  I just love the crack and the flash and the rumble. The fat sheets of rain that come layering down on you like buckets.  The fierce winds that cut through everything, and send branches flying through the air.  I just love the incredible majesty of mother nature, expressing herself.  

I know they’re genuinely dangerous, so no, I will not pull a Lt Dan in Forrest Gump, and stand on the summit of anything daring the powers of the universe to impress me.  I will be respectful.  But I am SO excited.

So that’s why, this afternoon, we’re practicing setting up our tents.  As quickly as possible.  I know these storms can appear out of nowhere, leave you just seconds to scramble everything together, fighting to tie down every line.  You both have to have a job to do, and get to doing it quickly.  So we're prepping.  Like we're prepping for our own fight club.

:)

My Turn.

Now it’s my turn. I have chosen to hike the Pyrenees Mountains with my dad this summer for my ‘rite of adventure’. I knew the day was coming - on my 11^th birthday, my dad give me a booklet of all my options for my 13^th summer.

This will be my dad’s second rite of adventure - one down, and two to go. As most of you know, last summer he and my brother hiked the PCT in California, and they raised the bar pretty high, I certainly have a lot to live up to.

I have to admit, I am pretty scared; I don’t know what it’s going to be like, what’s going to be out there; who knows? But don’t get me wrong, at the same time I can’t wait. My friends don’t seem to understand how big an opportunity this really is. They’ve been on beach holidays, where you relax, do what you like. But this, it’s going to be a challenge. Yeah, a couple of them have been to remote place like Alaska, but none on such an ambitious journey.

But why are we doing this hike next summer? Well, turning 13 isn’t just any other age; it is my first ‘teen’ year, the age of maturity, as we call it in our family. It is all about making your own decisions; you can’t rely on your parents for the rest of your life. It’s about becoming a young lady, taking responsibility for your own decisions and actions.

There were a few hikes on the list, a couple of options in which I would work in less economically developed countries (LEDC’S), teaching children how to speak English or building schools; things like that. Another option was to go and spend a month in a monastery, meditating, praying, yoga, and doing particular things at certain times, I’m still not quite sure how I could do that.

It wasn’t easy. I struggled between a few of our options, the monastery option not being my favourite, lets just say! For a while I leaned towards working in a LEDC, but I don’t think I would handle the heat well, as most LEDC’S are extremely warm, nothing like I’m used to. The decision was made. I chose the hike.

So we are hiking the Pyrenees, but I haven’t yet chosen which of the three routes I am going to hike, they all have their pros and cons, ups and downs shall we say, but that’s a different blog all together.

 I have read, seen and heard that the Pyrenees are one of the most beautiful mountain ranges in the world, with breath-taking views. This certainly had a big influence on my decision.

And I thought the view from the beach in the Caribbean was amazing.

When Ben did his hike, he was raising money for the charity ‘Princes Trust’, and I definitely admire him for it. However, I have been trying to decide whether I want to fundraise. In the end I decided to keep the hike a bit more personal, just between dad and I, my family, and this blog.

In my opinion, the hike is about learning to overcome the struggles we’re going to face. I haven’t even achieved the adventure yet, and I don’t want to share this with people, asking them for financial support, that I don't know.  Personally, I’m happy I can do this with family supporting me, but I’m not sure it’d be quite the same with people I don’t know as well.

I know that there is going to be a lot of planning and preparation to come, and I’m mostly looking forward to it. My head is filled with mixed emotions. Nervousness, anxiety, excitement, urge and thrills beyond measure. I don’t know whether the hike will be far easier than we thought, or whether we will come back more tired and exhausted than ever. Regardless, I know that it’s going to be a great summer.