Ambivalent. I finally felt like we were getting into the flow of hiking mountains. Sure, it only took us two days and two 14'ers, but I was a lot more confident when contemplating the next challenge on our list: a double climb of Grays and Torreys Peaks. I knew the reverance of soft footfalls in the pre-dawn mists, the dread of incoming clouds that could mean rain or snow or an end to our hike, the exhaustion that muffles thoughts until you're no more than a body moving forward with internal inertia. I also knew the satisfaction of summitting using nothing but your own will power, and the renewed energy while climbing down, already thinking of the next hike. So when Torrey and I roused on the third day of hiking 14'ers I dressed with poise, imagining the views opening up around us as dawn broke the horizon.
I should have known better. Sure, dawn did come, but brought a fine drizzle with it that seeped into our clothes and only served to chill us through the first part of our hike. Hoodoo had started out in his customary spot on my shoulder, then decided he wanted to try the whole hiking thing himself and demanded to be put down. I obliged, though I was a little nervous to let him out of my arms, and we hiked a short distance until it began to rain. He promptly wanted back up, and I zipped him into my jacket when he tucked his head against my sternum. It wasn't long before I began wishing I could join him in his little bubble of warmth. Torrey and I had weathered rain, hail, sleet, and snow on Quandary the day before, but this rain was heavier, harder, and so much colder. We had left treeline at the parking lot and so had nothing to shelter us from the full force of the clouds opening up around us, and it was around that time that I became miserable. I can't do this ran through my mind on repeat, and when Torrey and I stopped near a trail sign by unspoken consent I was nearly in tears. I was freezing, beyond freezing, and knew my body and the cues well enough to know that if we continued the way we were I'd end up hypothermic before we reached the first summit. Not particularly wanting to deal with the mess and potential rescue senario that hypothermia would guarantee to bring down on us, Torrey and I huddled against the trail sign and hoped the rain would at least lighten up a little bit while I dug out every layer of clothing I had in my backpack. Hoodoo was not pleased to be dumped out into the rain, but it was only temporary as I tucked more layers under the protection of my rain jacket before scooping him back up and replacing his warm body next to my core. Like hell I was going to give up my own little furry heater.
Somehow or another Torrey and I got our wish by degrees as the rain lightened to a slow drizzle, though it was replaced by some of the most dense fog I've ever hiked through. We couldn't see more than twenty feet in front of us and we were especially careful not to lose each other or the trail as I began to wonder if summitting would be worth it. I realized I needed to decide what I wanted out of our goal to hike Colorado's 14'ers: did I want the views, the hike itself, or the summit? Perhaps I wanted all three, though in what percentages would have to be determined by each mountain. We'd had amazing views on Pikes, cloud play and a pretty hike on Quandary, so I supposed I could be contented with just the summits of Grays and Torreys, even if I was cold and wet and miserable and couldn't see a thing besides the trail in front of my nose.
I was in that state of mind when Grays summit popped up out of nowhere. Had I been focusing more on the trail rather than my own internal ramblings I probably would have noticed our hike was leveling off a bit, a sure sign that we were near the top, but as it was I was honestly surprised we'd reached the summit. Grays Peak certainly lived up to its name; there certainly wasn't much to look at beyond the soft swirl of water vapor that parted around us on invisible wind currents. We had the summit to ourselves (a rare phenomenon, if trail reports and my own experience are to be believed), and debated the merit of continuing on to Torreys Peak. A few hikers heading the opposite direction had described snow-covered scree and high winds with no view, and had opted to turn around after summitting Grays instead of heading for the second peak. Torrey and I decided we'd chance it, making our way down the saddle between the two 14'ers. The dip between the two was the windiest spot on the trail, though there wasn't as much snow as we feared. We leap frogged with another hiker pair, making small talk as we struggled up Torreys Peak together. Turns out one of them was from Colorado, but the other was from Texas (Houston) so her and I commiserated on the disadvantages of hiking mountains while living at sea level.
Torreys trail was loose, reminding me of walking on sand dunes where one step forward slides back a half step every time. My calves were screaming in protest and I rested every ten feet or so, but I was pleased to note I was no longer wet or really all that cold. Exertion and a lack of oxygen kept my heart pumping double time, drying my clothes with body heat and keeping my limbs warm. Even my toes were warm, tucked into two layers of socks and my trail shoes. My fingers, on the other hand, were frozen and it was all I could do to keep the feeling of pins and needles in them. My gloves, which had served me well on Quandary, did nothing to help, and when I began to lose the pins and needles in favor of numb nothingness I pulled out my spare wool socks and shoved them onto my hands. The pins and needles slowly returned, and when we finally reached the summit of Torreys Peak I had enough dexterity to push my camera's shutter button to snap a few pictures of the mist.
It was with a heady sense of relief that we left the summit and began the trek down. Hoodoo even poked his head out of my collar, and made it clear he wanted to get down and walk a little bit. Hoodoo hiked the entire way from the summit of Torreys Peak all the way to the saddle, then even further down the trail that would take us back to the parking lot. I only picked him up when I spotted a couple of dogs hiking the trail near us, though I put him back down once they had passed. Of course, as we descended the clouds lifted and we got an amazing view of the glacial valley spread below us, wide and bowed like a U. A glance over my shoulder showed Grays and Torreys Peaks silhouetted against the clouds and I almost wanted to return to the summits to get the views we'd been denied. The logical part of me shouted down the wishful thought and I returned my attention to the views in front of me and the kitten at my feet, keeping an eye on Hoodoo as we climbed down the mountains, making sure he was handling the rough rocks well. I didn't need to worry, and by the time we were back on somewhat level ground Hoodoo was keeping pace with me, although he would get distracted by a stray tuft of grass or the buzz of an insect. It was on his own four paws that we finished our trail, earning him a few claps and congratulatory scratches from a handful of hikers nearby. Really, I reflected as Torrey, Hoodoo, and I settled back into our car, the hike had been a smashing success, regardless of how it began. I might even be tempted to go back and do it again some day.
Read about the first two 14'ers here:
Pikes Peak
Quandary Peak
Interested in learning more about Hoodoo? Read about how I got him and chose him as my adventure partner here.
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