Powerlessness

Decided to climb my first 14er (a peak above 14,000 feet) on Tuesday and Jess suggested Mt. Bierstadt, the easiest and most accessible 14er in Colorado - don't worry, humility is coming!

We made it to the trail head in spite of the lack of signage, there was none. My rationalization for this - National Parks have all sorts of stupid people visiting them and so the need for copious signage is appropriate. Whereas, users of National Forests are typically more dedicated and knowledgeable making lots of signs a little unnecessary. It was a brisk 45 degrees at Guanella Pass as we began our hike down from the parking area into a squishy meadow. By this time we started gaining serious elevation, the wind was picking up and the temperature dropping. About half way there, we began passing other hikers on their way down, many in down parkas, winter hats, mittens, etc... I brushed them off as overzealous gear heads with their trekking poles, gaiters, and altimeter watches. Gear is cool but really? Are we on K2?

By the time we hit the saddle I was beginning to feel a necessity for a parka. Brr! The wind was 30+ and the temp was well below 40. A quick look and a photo of the incredible view sent us racing down and out of the wind. The mountains are so humbling and remind me how I am so powerless in this universe. I am one person connected to the rest of the world in the biggest of ways. The hike gave me a lot of time to think about control, powerlessness, and unmanageability - if for no other reason than to distract thoughts of pain or cold.

4 hours, 1800 calories, and one amazing cardio burn later, we were back at the car and into dry socks. Lesson learned - when you look at the very nice gloves in your car before going on a hike and think, "probably won't need those," bring them anyway. Hiking Mt. Bierstadt has inspired me to hike more big hills - Mt. Evans, Mt. Rosalie, and others are on my list for this trip. I think I'll drive Liz and Preston up Pikes Peak but I will avoid eating donuts and the summit. I remember that lesson very well from being 9 years old and puking the entire way down the mountain.