A Snapshot and The Scoop: An Indulgence

Is it really a trip to the Buena Vista area in Colorado without a stop at the St. Elmo ghost town and a visit with a bunch of adorable furry friends? (The answer is no, btw.) Torrey and I had cut our mountain climbing short by a day and found ourselves with free time to indulge. We began with a visit to St. Elmo, a ghost town on the slopes of Mount Princeton where mining operations once created a booming industry. When the railroad moved away from the area and the mining dried up, the town was abandoned by all but a dedicated few, who have worked hard over the years to preserve their little corner of Colorado history. The town has few permanent residents, aside from the three species of squirrels that live near a pile of old railroad ties at the town center. I've written about these cuties before, and I'll continue to write about them every time we visit. #sorrynotsorry

A Snapshot and The Scoop: A Few of My Least Favorite Things

Let's talk about how much I dislike makeshift log "bridges" over rushing mountain streams. And let's also talk about how much I dislike crossing said bridges during the day when I can see, let alone having to cross them in the pre-dawn pitch black darkness of a mountain forest illuminated only by the beam of two headlamps while also being dive-bombed by bats who are attracted to the insects flitting around in the light of said headlamps. While I acknowledge that many of our summit bids in our goal to climb all 14'ers in Colorado will require us to continue beginning our hikes before dawn, that doesn't mean I have to like it. There is nothing creepier than a forest at night, and having to cross a bridge where one false move will send you plunging into icy water that promises to ruin your hike for the rest of the day while it is still dark, well, those are a few of my least favorite things. But we did it, despite my hesitation and grumpiness, and our summit bid was successful. I guess I'll just have to get over it, because I know there's more yet to come.

A Snapshot and The Scoop: Pick Your Line

When you have no trail to follow, and it's really more about just taking the next step on your way up, you follow whatever route you can find in your bid for the summit of a mountain. Torrey and I were busy climbing 14,000 foot mountains again last summer, taking on Class 2 mountains that required some scrambling and boulder-hopping to get to the top. On this particular mountain, Yale, we reached the shoulder of the mountain and the end of the trail; we had to find our own way across a steep boulder field, haphazardly marked with carins from previous hikers, all of whom had their own skill levels and comforts with exposure (meaning how close they were willing to get to falling off the top of a mountain). Torrey and I each found our own way, with me sticking as close as possible to the middle of the boulder field, but not so center as to be quite at the top. I wanted to be able to hold on to boulders on both sides of my body, not just on the left or right. Boulder-hopping is a slow process (for me at least) due to the desire to make sure the rock I'm about to put my foot on won't roll away under my weight. Twisting an ankle on a remote mountain would be dangerous, and if the rock rolls off the side and takes me with it, the fall would be lethal. We carefully picked our way across the boulders, passing carins every now and then but mostly ignoring them as we found stable footing on our own. Reaching the summit has never felt so good.