Long's Peak

Road trips were an interesting part of my life before marriage. Often filled with talking, singing and thinking, they were a formative part of my life in college. I can't say it was very much of any of that as Ben and I drove from Madison, WI to Fort Collins, CO. There's really nothing to look at through Iowa and Nebraska and Ben's not much of a talker. In fact, I've never seen him read so much. I suppose we were saving up the life-changing discussion for what came next.

Thursday morning, we woke up at 1 a.m. and were hiking the approach to Long's Peak by 3 a.m. The first 2.5 miles were pitch black, and then we saw the dawn.

Long's Peak is one of Colorado's fourteeners and it's the tallest mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park at an elevation of 14, 255 feet. The hike from the ranger station to the peak is 7.5 miles, and it climbs nearly 5,000 feet in elevation. That's high for those of us who have spent our lives at sea level. The approach lasts about 5.9 miles. 

That's the view of the peak from the last bit of the approach. Websites and guidebooks call Long's Peak a "classic" climb. We've never mounteered before, so who really knows what that means. We know people have died climbing this mountain - one resource said there's an average of one death each year. Most people die from falling (or being blown off by the wind) or exposure. As morbid as it sounds, we were ready for the possibility of not coming off the mountain. Remarkably, we had a calm day all the way to the top. We were told by another hiker that the stillness was unheard of. The scramble up the trough was long and painful. Ben kept saying, "Don't look down." I was surprised to realize the height didn't scare me at all. How could it when the view looked like this?

The steep climb was made more fun by the occasional visit by a curious marmot. Ben fell in love, naming a couple and asking if we could take one home. There was even one to greet us once we reached the top.

It was practically sitting on our laps. It came up to us when we took out our lunches, so we shared some, and he stuck around. Evidently this mountain is well-climbed because these furry friends are not scared one bit of humans - unless you're like Ben and you harass them while coaxing them out from under rocks. Then they might chirp loudly and menacingly (which made Ben laugh). 

I don't know how to describe the feeling of reaching the top of a mountain after seven hours of hiking. I don't know how Ben put up with my slow pace and still managed to speak with patience and encouragement. Words aren't for everything, I guess. Sometimes there are only pictures and aches. Ben talks a lot about the power of nature. If you don't approach something like a mountain with a healthy dose of fear, you are underestimating the mountain. As we climbed and the wind stayed still, it reminded me of Elijah's experience with God on a mountain. Go read the story yourself (1 Kings 11-13). I think the point is that you do not simply climb a mountain. At each section, it was evident that we were only there because we were allowed to be.

It's storming up there today.