I got some photos from Nate, so here they are. The first is me at Chasm View.
“I want to drink SO MUCH BEER.”
It’s early Saturday morning and Nate is talking about how many pitchers he’s going to order when we get to the Dark Horse. Most of Denver is still asleep.
To be fair, it had already been a long day at that point. I’d been up since 11:15pm (after a 4 hour nap). Nate had the luxury of sleeping in an extra half hour. We were on our way down from the summit of Longs Peak, after sprinting up the Homestretch to catch sunrise by less than a minute.
It was a great morning. Despite only getting a few hours of sleep and waking up before most people we know had even gone to bed, we were able to keep a fast, comfortable pace all the way to the top. Here’s Nate enjoying the view as well as his chapstick during sunrise. One person passed us on the way up and was waiting for the sun to come up on top, but had to head down before it did, as he was getting too cold to stand around despite the total lack of wind.
When we hit the Trough, we saw the train of people who’s headlights we saw marching up towards the keyhole a couple hours prior. 30 minutes later on the way down and we would’ve hit a major logjam. I counted 48 people in this photo, and the top of the trough isn’t even visible. There are dozens upon dozens of people below us.
We were asked by countless people, “how much longer to the top?” Nate told one guy who asked low in the trough “about an hour.” He was dismayed as he had been told an hour by the guy who left ahead of us roughly half an hour earlier. Nate’s guess was accurate (if not on the low side) based on the guy’s current pace, but of course not what he wanted to hear. The estimates of course got longer as we progressed, until we neared the keyhole and the response became “about as long as it’s taken you to get this far.” This is really not what people wanted to hear. It actually became entertaining to be the mountain’s unofficial demoralizers to people with shiny new gear and absolutely no idea what they were doing.
We had a blast scrambling down, and racing up small rock formations that were conducive to sprint-scrambling (or as Nate would call it, “spiderman shit”). One person even remarked that Nate was “dancing on the rock.”
The boulder field was an absolute blast, and we discussed the intricacies of what differentiates leaps, bounds, and simple jumps, of course with countless examples. Of course, at what point can you draw the line between a “leap” and a mere “bound?” If you take a leap but shorten it by a millimeter each time and continue repeating, at some point it will cease to be a leap. But where? Just look at statistical usage of the word “leap,” decide using that average, end of story. Oh snap, philosophers! Did Mike just totally school you with his statistically-based descriptivist approach to semantics? IT APPEARS THAT HE TOTALLY DID!! It also appears that he’s speaking in the third person because he’s so impressed with his awesome self!
[thanks to Ryan North for inspiring this passage]
After the boulder field, we tried to keep up a good pace as both of us wanted to be done, and go get our beer and burger at the Dark Horse. Hey look, a heap of rocks!
Time counting stops other than the summit was 7:40. Total time right at 8:20, which is substantially faster than I’ve ever done the trip, and my average heart-rate was only 118.
The Dark Horse was great, with a hickory bacon cheeseburger w/ fries for only $5. I love that place.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. That’s because yesterday, I set off to do the Tenmile Traverse. The traverse starts in Frisco where you head up Peak 1, then continue along all the numbered peaks in the range until you get to Peak 10 in Breckenridge and descend back to town. I was successful in my attempt, with 17.5 miles and over 8,000′ of climbing completed in 10:15, but it was such an amazing experience that photographs and numbers can’t adequately describe it. I hope that I’m able to come close.
This is a day that’s been in the works for some time. I thought about it last year, then planned to do it on my birthday last month. It was put off until now due to conflicting scheduling, and I’m glad it did, because yesterday couldn’t have been more perfect.
It started like any other long day in the mountains. I woke up to the sound of two alarms going off almost simultaneously at the ridiculous time of 2:15am. Scout didn’t realize it was that early, and so was excited to get up and run outside as if it were any other morning. I moved a little more slowly, getting dressed, making two big breakfasts (one to eat at home, one to eat at the trailhead) and tea for the drive. It was right around 3am when I hit the road, and 4:30 when I pulled into the parking lot.
As I was eating breakfast #2 I talked to a guy in a group of 5 who was also getting ready to head out. Turns out they were also there for the traverse. I had hoped for solitude for the day, but figured a little occasional company wouldn’t be so bad. We all started for Peak 1 about 10 before 5, meaning there would be plenty of time to get above treeline for sunrise.
Better images can be had with better equipment, but I was traveling light this day, only a 12 pound pack including food and water. I wanted to enjoy the experience, rather than suffer by hauling several extra pounds up and down the mountains of the Tenmile Range.
By this point I truly was enjoying the whole experience, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Being alone above treeline before sunrise is always great. Soon enough, the first of 10 objectives came into view.
Peak 1 was a great warmup for what was to come. Peak 10 is visible here, far off in the distance on the left side of the picture. The coming ridgeline on the way to peaks 2, 3, an
d 4 is the most difficult portion of the traverse. It’s said that it can be kept to class 3, but my route had some solid class 4 (though I was able to avoid anything class 5).
The ridge from 1 to 2 was largely uneventful (though still a fun scramble), and there are no photos here of it. Visible here is “the dragon,” along the ridge from 2 to 3. It is the most technically demanding section of the day.
Here’s a look back. I started off on the west side and looked a few times for exits onto the top of the ridge. It was an unbelievably fun (though stressful) section, and I’m glad the group was there to help with routefinding through it. No good pictures from the dragon as I was focusing on getting through it, plus the lack of color variation made most of the photos worthless.
This is taken from the summit of Peak 3, showing the immediate change in terrain after reaching Peak 4. This ridge was less difficult than the preceeding two, but there were still a lot more “you fall you die” moments than I was expecting. The ridge up to 4 was generally a couple feet wide, but with vertical drop offs on either side. It was fun, but became very mentally draining by the end.
I set off for Peak 5, leaving the other group behind for the rest of the day. I would not be within shouting range of anyone else that day until I was heading back down into Breckenridge in the afternoon. I finally had the solitude I wanted.
I didn’t even stop moving while going over Peak 5, as it was little more than a small bump along the ridge without anything of real interest. The following photo was taken between peaks 5 and 6. It was the most blissful, serene moment in the mountains I’ve ever experienced. There was a small dip, filled with short grass blowing in the constant, moderate breeze in the ridge. The lighting was perfect, and it was silent except for the wind. I had no choice but to sit down and simply experience it for a few minutes. The beauty of the morning, the camaraderie seen through the difficult sections, and the danger of the climb all came together and hit me at once. I felt like I could have stayed there forever.
Sadly, I had to get up and keep moving. Things started to get more physically demanding again after Peak 6. Peak 7 was not terribly steep, and hitting the ski area boundary gave a mental boost as I knew I was getting closer to the end.
This shows Peak 8, with the melted-out run known as Whale’s Tail. It’s a blast in good conditions. The climb up to 8 wasn’t very difficult, as I’d done it dozens of times in the past carrying skis over my shoulder.
This is Lake Chutes from the top of Peak 8. It’s beautiful in the winter, and just as beautiful in the summer. It was nice to be covering terrain that I was familiar with, as I was starting to wear out from the long day.
This is Peak 9, with the summit being the small bump on the left. I was noticeably slower here. The miles and several thousand feet of climbing were adding up and taking their toll on me. The various emotions of the day were piling up as well, and I’m glad it was an easy walk up so that I didn’t have to be 100% focused on the task at hand.
This sight was far more demoralizing than inspiring. I’ve gone 12 miles and climbed over 7,000′, I’m exhausted, only have one mountain left, and it’s not only the highest in elevation (and one of only two over 13,000′, at 13,633′), but is covered in loose, crappy, sharp rock.
Rock that looks a little something like this. I got my only real injury here, when a loose rock smashed a finger. My fingertip was immediately red, and there’s a chance I’ll be losing another nail. Fortunately nothing’s broken. It was a hard 700′ of climbing, and despite my growing exhaustion and slowing pace, failure never even crossed my mind. I had come this far, and I would make it to the top no matter how tired I was.
An hour after leaving Peak 9, I made it. I was overjoyed, having done something of this difficulty in a single attempt. Yet almost immediately, I realized that reaching the final summit was not all that spectacular – that the journey is what really mattered, and is one of the major things I would take back from this day. I only stayed on top long enough to eat something and snap a couple pictures before heading down to town.
The trudge down the ski slopes felt never-ending. I wished I could have skied down, especially the farther down I got, as towards the bottom the vegetation got much thicker. There were even marshes with my most hated mountain plants, willows.
Truly an amazing day, probably the most spectacular one I’ve ever spent in the mountains. Words can’t adequately describe the experiences, emotions, and realizations of the day, which is all the more better as it’s absolutely not what I was expecting. I just thought it would be a long, challenging day in the Tenmiles, and I ended up having a near-life experience.
Today marks the 140th day of work for the year. With only 7 days of driving in so far (the last time in April), I have just hit the 95% mark for bike to work. I expect to hit the 200-day mark sometime in early December. Last month I had over 700 bike-not-drive miles, which more than doubled up anyone else in the region, winning me a $30 Sports Authority gift card. Now, what to buy…hm.
I haven’t been posting a whole lot lately, because not a lot of post-worthy things have been happening, that I have pictures for. Hopefully I’ll get some from mud volleyball, and I wish I’d had my camera at the Rockies game on Sunday to get a shot of Fowler taking on the right-field wall at full speed.
I expect things will be picking back up soon-ish, although marathon training is coming on strong, which will eat up some time. I have abandoned the full-barefoot goal as two months is simply not enough time to get my feet from where they are now (pain and blisters after only a mile or two) to being able to run 26 on them, so back to the Vibram FiveFingers.
Next weekend I expect to go for the Tenmile Traverse, which should yield some great photos.