What I Learned When I Climbed My First Fourteener

In 2006, I thought I could hike the length of the Barr Trail in Colorado in a single day, from its start in Manitou Springs to the summit of Pikes Peak. The fact that it was a high-difficulty trail, over 12 miles in length (one-way) with a vertical gain of over 7,000, feet did not bother me. I had no experience with any other fourteener. I resided near sea level and was miserably out of shape and overweight. I ignored the advice of people who knew better and I went forward with the attempt fully confident.

I failed miserably.

You see, back then, I thought I could do anything. I thought I was Superman. I do not know why I felt this way. I had not done anything particularly remarkable in my life to that point. Sure I had studied Chemistry for a long time and earned a Ph.D., and after failing to find work in my field I successfully switched over to I.T. I solved hard problems at work, it was my specialty. I also messed a few things up but always survived, and thrived. Maybe that contributed to it, I am not sure. This was also before I appreciated the extent to which being a white male makes the glide path of life so much smoother. I was really quite full of myself and my perceived abilities.

On that day in 2006, at the base of Barr Trail, with my friends and a heavy pack on my back, my only thoughts were of making the summit and returning halfway back down to Barr Camp, where we’d have dinner and stay the night.

However, shortly after beginning, the hike became overwhelming. It was a constant, unrelenting grind of hills and switchbacks. It was hard to breathe, and I had to stop and rest often.

It took many hours longer than it should have to reach Barr Camp on the way up, barely the halfway point. I was defeated, there was no possibility of continuing to the top. I apologized to my friend and college roommate Steve, who as a resident and veteran of many such hikes, would have easily carried on to the top were it not for the human anchor he was pulling along all day. We offloaded our bags at Barr Camp and hiked perhaps another 500 feet in vertical elevation before my headache forced me to turn around and call it a day.

In hindsight, it was a silly thing for me to try. Steve’s wife Mary who arranged the trip as a surprise for his 40th birthday had very politely tried to tell me this. Yet I was not convinced. I thought I could do anything. I had very little self-awareness at the time. I only thought of the end goal and that of course I would reach it.

Let’s Try This Again, Except Older and Hopefully Wiser

Fast forward (not so fast really, a few of these years have weighed very heavily on me) 18 years and I am visiting the mountains of Colorado with Steve and Mary again. In the intervening years, I have been back several times, and have done some hard things. There have been several mountain bike rides on epic Rocky Mountain trails. All have been at elevation, some above the treeline and crossing high mountain passes. I certainly didn’t complete them with style and grace, but I made it through one way or another.

The one thing I had not revisited was a hike up one of the fourteeners. I never really thought about it, especially considering how badly I performed the first time on Pikes Peak. In the days leading up to my recent visit, Steve suggested we hike up one of the fourteeners instead of the usual mountain bike ride. I thought this was a good idea, though I had no confidence I could do it.

However, despite being much older now (58) I was in manifestly better physical shape than in 2006. I lead a better lifestyle, have a healthier diet, and drink far less, and I practice yoga often.

I thought why not try, at worst, I could always just turn back.

We chose Mount Democrat for the hike, it was nearby, and Steve and Mary had hiked it several times before. In addition, the hike to the summit is much shorter than Barr Trail to Pikes Peak, less than 3 miles each way. But those 3 miles contained 2,500 feet of vertical climbing up some very steep and rocky slopes. It is considered one of the “easier” fourteeners. This is a little bit like going to the dentist to get cavities filled and leaving feeling like it was one of your easier dental visits. There are no “easy” fourteeners, not for me at least.

In the days leading up to the big hike, I felt good. We walked a trail near Breckenridge that climbed up to around 11,500 feet and I dealt with it pretty well. Of course, this was still below the elevation where the hike up Mount Democrat would start.

Watch Your Step

We walked through the small town of Fairplay the night before the big hike. For some reason, I was thinking about the next morning’s early start and big hike. I could go as slowly as I needed to. I told myself not to focus on the end goal, just to put one foot in front of the other, and eventually, I would get there. Then I stepped in dog poo on the sidewalk as I ruminated. Presence with each little step is important, it was a timely reminder.

We left early in the morning the next day for Mount Democrat. Hiking up any mountain, especially one above the treeline, requires an early start to ensure you are not exposed to afternoon thunderstorms. Additionally, no one was sure how long it would take me, or if I would make it to the top at all.

We arrived at the trail at 7:30 AM and the parking lot was already full so we parked a little further away on the road leading to the entrance. I was immediately unnerved. Mount Democrat looked like a difficult obstacle. I could make out tiny specks on the side of the treeless hill that were other hikers making their way up. I walked briskly up the very gentle slope of the dirt road for about a quarter of a mile that led to the trailhead.

I was already in trouble. I must have walked a little too fast too soon. I was dizzy and breathing hard, and I had barely covered any ground at all. I was doomed. But I took another look up and was encouraged by the number of people hiking up ahead of me. I resolved to put one foot in front of the other for as long as I could. I would be present and aware and listen to my body. If I managed my effort and didn’t overexert myself too badly, maybe I would make it. I was encouraged by the same people, who years ago tried telling me that Barr Trail in a day was too much, to go as slowly as I needed, to drink (I brought 3 liters of water with me, it was barely enough) and rest often. It was helpful that the people with me were patient, supportive, and encouraging. This time, older and wiser than in 2006, I listened to them.

I plodded up the trail on the gentler lower part of the hill, stopping often to catch my breath, and letting other faster hikers pass me. We were above the treeline but there was still grass and wildflowers growing between the rocks. Pikas gathered mouthfuls of flowers and hurried them away to save up for winter.

We approached a level part of the trail, a saddle between the summit of Mount Democrat and nearby Mount Cameron. More fit and better-acclimatized hikers were hiking to the top of a few of the nearby (within plain sight) mountain summits in one long hike, but one was enough for me. This was the first opportunity to see the “other side” of the mountain. We spent the first hour or so looking up at the face of Mount Democrat, now from the saddle the view was in all directions, back down from where we came as well as the wide valley and tall mountains on the other side, hidden from the parking lot view.

We had gained about half of the total elevation on the trail, but the second half was the hard part. After another drink and some food, we continued up. This is where the trail became very steep and was not much of a trail at all, just a big pile of very large rocks. I wondered how they all got there. If it were not for my friends ahead of me, I would not have known where to go. I cautiously put one foot in front of the other, measuring each wobbly step. It wasn’t dangerous, there was no exposure, I just didn’t feel like falling on the big rocks and making things harder. Several more people passed me going up.

After another hour or so we made it to what looked like the summit from the parking lot, but was actually a bump about 100 feet lower obscuring the actual summit behind it. I was relieved to finally stand at the point I had been looking up at all morning. A few hours earlier I didn’t think I would be this far. I stopped again to enjoy the view and take a few more pictures.

The actual summit was nearby, at the end of a relatively gentle slope compared to what came before it. I hurried up the last few steps, still feeling surprisingly good, much better than expected.

Then I was at the summit. I had never stood on top of a mountain that tall. The sensation of being in such a high place was completely new to me. I had never seen a view like it. I stared out for miles all around me in every direction. I could see our car far below, and it looked very far away. The view at the top was vast, it was a clear day and Steve pointed out the tops of other mountains, now at eye level, but many miles away. I enjoyed a sense of accomplishment standing there. We stood on a little rocky platform that marked the highest point on the summit and posed for the obligatory picture.

For the first few minutes, we had the top to ourselves. It was peaceful and quiet. The only interruption was the wind. It was cold enough to make me wish I had brought gloves, and it was the end of August. Shortly thereafter the next group joined us and after taking time for more food and water, we started the long walk down.

The walk down was at least as difficult as the walk up. I was tired and my legs were getting wobbly but I tiptoed over the downward boulder slope without issue. We picked up speed on the easier lower slopes and were soon back in the parking lot, on our way to South Park Saloon in Alma for a burger and the beer of victory.

It took a day or two for it all to sink in. The effect of hiking up that mountain was significant. I think I am a different person now, not dramatically different, but ever so slightly so. Something changed when I looked around at everything around me on top of that mountain. I am a tiny bit more content now, more at ease with my current life situation. It is an odd sensation. The view and the effort that led to it tilted my perspective. I am not the exact same person I was before, now I am someone who can hike up a tall mountain when he didn’t believe he could do it.

In 2006 at the base of a similarly tall mountain, I was full of unwarranted confidence and ego and short on self-awareness, presence, and humility. I wasn’t only physically different now, everything about me had changed. This time, I learned to let go of my ego. I also learned to listen to my body and understand my capabilities. Now, I heeded advice instead of ignoring it. By slowly putting one step in front of the other, and only focusing on the next step, not the endpoint, I eventually made it to the top.