Yale Tales

This weekend was almost my last chance to pick a new-to-me 14-er, on my 'somewhat easy' list before Kilimanjaro in 4 weeks. Actually, it was the intersection of a number of very cunning plans - A Sue and Me hike, my thirteenth 14-er and the beginning of weather that would test gear and accelerate/motivate/organize my packing situation.

The plan with Sue involved being bright eyed and bushy-tailed at 7am on Berthoud Pass to hike Mt Flora. She was bringing her dog, Maddie and we planned to hike the 2000' gain under the promise of clear skies - promised until at least 11:00am anyway. 

We were literally 5 minutes from the summit when a lady called "my dogs are not friendly!" She had stepped off the trail by 10' or so, but despite knowing her little Chihuahua was aggressive, she opted NOT to put him on leash and to watch as he attacked Maddie - on a 3' leash at Sue's side. In less than a minute the dogs were going at it, the leash was binding around Sue's ankles and she went face first into a rock on the ground. I yelled to the woman to get her dog as I pulled Maddie upwards into my arms, the feisty Chihuahua hanging on in midair by its teeth! Blood was gushing from Sue's nose and mouth and fear gripped me as I watched her spitting it onto the ground.

Here's what happens when Sue is in crisis; She says "it's ok, I'm fine".  Manifesting Queen Elizabeth herself, Sue operates with dignity and grace, is forgiving and calm. It's definitely something I'm not personally familiar with or a mental place I tend to land in easily - or at all! I was furious with the lady and just wanted her to take her stupid self and her uncontrolled dog and exit the scene.  Sue's teeth were intact and she didn't appear to have a head injury but the impact line on her face was grim and swelling had begun long before the bleeding was under control. Down went the Ibuprofen and after some time on the ground, surrounded by some seriously kind and compassionate hikers who were generous with their yet unopened First Aid Kit, we attempted to make our way 2000' back down the mountain. Sue took my hiking poles; I took Maddie's leash.

At the car we sat and just felt all the feelings for some time. Assessing whether Sue was ok to drive and what the plan was, came first. Urgent Care visit for sure... but there was none in Idaho Springs or Georgetown so going east to Denver (home) was still her goal. I followed her car down to I70 and she messaged to say she felt fine to drive, so we parted about there. 

Me personally - I was now driving west on I70 through horrific downpours and a wintry mix.

I was anxious that Sue was more hurt that it looked on the outside. And let me tell you, her face was already purple and very swollen on the outside! Very much looking like she wore an impressive Halloween costume, she was still ok cracking jokes about it all!!! (Yes, I took a picture. No, it doesn't belong here.)

About the time Sue was being kicked out of the Urgent Care and sent to the ER instead for head and neck imaging, I was between Leadville and Buena Vista. The Collegiate Range was dusted in snow and the air temp was pretty chilly. I was beginning to wonder if the plan to hike Mt Yale with Chris tomorrow, was a good one?!

Yale had been on my list, but with some trepidation. It was 9.5 miles and a gain of 4300'. Almost as much as Mt Elbert except it was a harder climb. Class 2 from the saddle to the summit block. I knew I wasn't comfortable doing this one alone and had jumped at the chance to join Chris on what was supposed to be a nice day, Sunday.

We car camped at Ruby Mountain Campground Saturday night and set respective alarms for 5am. The night was clear and the peaks were beautiful with a dusting of snow for the first time this season. 

Unlike the night we camped at Huron Peak Trailhead, I was super cozy and wonderful in my sleeping bag. That new 4" foam mattress I had purchased for the 4-runner, was just the ticket.

There was a 30 minute drive to Denny Creek Trailhead in the dark and the plan was to hike at 6am. Chris and I are both "on time" kinda people and at 6am we were lighting the way with headlamps and forging our path through the forest. It was lovely.

The path and every plant sparkled with ice. Not far in, we found the first signs of that snow - thin and glittery, squeaky clean. Magical! Clearly we'd had more snow and some freezing rain too, overnight.

I'd say we broke treeline about 1500' higher than where we started. The journey had been uneventful and it was only about this time I realized the path was increasingly icy/slippery and the wind was fierce. Biting cold, bringing rounds of thick clouds and low visibility in a way that was fast and furious up the valley. Only intermittently did we catch a glimpse of Yale summit (the false summit... but close to the real summit I think!) When the clouds did part, the scenery was like an oil painting - Truly, iconically Colorado.

This hike was breathtaking on all levels. The air was thin, the frigid cold startled our lips and lungs and the views were fast moving this peak into my #1 slot despite the hardship involved and self doubt that was taking root. About 2/3 of the people who passed us, were coming down, having never summited. Environmental conditions were testing their preparedness, their gear and now also their commitment.

I think it was at the first little icy scramble section, I voiced my concern about conditions deteriorating the danger of getting up on the ridge in 30 mph wind on slick granite. I was not ruling out turning back. After all, my #1 goal was not getting injured and my #2 goal was summiting Yale today. This peak had been here for a thousand years and was still going to be here for my next attempt. An injury would maybe destroy or at least hinder the Kilimanjaro effort and I was keeping eyes on the prize!

Chris was not deterred. I actually think he might have been thriving under these conditions. With 4 layers on top, 2 on the legs, 2 pairs of gloves, 2 hats and a Buff to cover my face and protect it from the bitter wind, I soldiered on, telling myself just to go 5 more minutes then decide if going back was indeed the wiser choice.

Yeah... 5 more minutes x 35... and you find yourself most of the way up the steep switchbacks leading to the saddle! At this time the sun was making more frequent (if not short) appearances and the wind was taking little breaks - very welcome little breaks. My fingers were flip-flopping between cold and painful and tingly but almost warm. My little feet were doing great in one pair of non-mountaineering, wool socks!

People tend to comment a lot that I'm carrying a bigger pack than most and that might be true. It's also fair to say that on 9/10 hikes I don't use the "just in case" items that I carry every time I hike high. 

Today my pack had contained:

1 down jacket

1 water/windproof jacket

1 water proof pants

1 hat 

1 gloves (plus I was wearing wool glove liners already)

1 ski mittens

1 Buff (neck gaiter/headband/balaclava)

Chemical handwarmers

Headlamp

First Aid Kit

Snacks

2L of water in an insulated Camelbak

Charging brick and cable

Shot Blocks for electrolytes and caffeine

Gin-gins for nausea

Sunscreen

Chapstick

An item or two of Chris' clothing that didn't fit in his backpack.

I didn't use the charging brick because I accidentally left my phone in the car - so all pics are courtesy of Chris. I loaned the mittens to Boris who got to the saddle without gloves but would have had a hard time with the scramble part where he definitely needed to use fingers. I broke open the first aid kit for a fellow hiker having hip pain and shared the Ibuprofen.

My camelback nozzle froze and I had to chomp ice out of it to drink and my snacks were so cold and hard it made them difficult to bite.

EVERYTHING else I wore or used today. And was grateful.

Not sure anyone who saw me on the trail expected to see me at the summit but almost 5 hours of cold uphill slog at my little turtle pace, got me there. I was dry and warm, uninjured and feeling positive to the core. 

Downhill was a pleasant surprise as the temperature had been low 30's with windchill putting it in the 20's on the way up but as the day progressed it rocketed right up to the 40's! The icy steep downhill became more of a wet but not so slick trail that made room for perfect conversation time now that we had our brainspace back. And yep, it was gorgeous! With my head down and the biting wind earlier, a lot of the beauty had gone unnoticed. (Well, that and the fact it was most often covered by a thick layer of cloud on the way up.)

Three hours later, Chris and I returned, triumphant, to the parking lot at Denny Creek and it was time to start the 3 hour drive home.

If you've read enough of these posts, you'll know that the aftermath of achievement, the culmination of fatigue and a little more much needed oxygen to the brain, is often what I blame for my "emotional attacks". I use the long drive out of the mountains to process the day, the journey, the highlights, challenges and trauma. I typically dictate thoughts into Notes on my phone and it's not uncommon for a few tears to roll as I recount it all. 

Today was no exception... except that it kinda was. ALL the frightenedness of Sue's accident bubbled (blubbered) out. The self doubt and anxiety about Yale's slick Class 2 summit block climb was relieved at last but left my body wrapped in a package of snotty tears. The joy and pride and feelings of accomplishment at having now almost achieved my personal goal of fourteen 14-ers prior to Kili, was on the overwhelming side. Google couldn't cope with my shakey voice and nasaly accent! The translation of my voice dictation turned out to be ... utterly bewildering. A load of unrecognizable garbage to be sure. LOL

Google Maps deadpan voice said "Welcome Home" at just after 5:30pm, as I turned into the driveway. I walked my tear stained and dirty face complete with red eyes, inside. Behind me the 4-runner beeped as it locked. We both knew I had no intention of unpacking a single thing until tomorrow. 

Stick a fork in me... I was mentally, emotionally and physically DONE.