Quandary Peak - Déjà vu

Déjà vu has been described as "when memories and new experiences get wrapped up in each other". I'm no stranger to déjà vu and today was definitely one where last years memories were triggered and the experience weirdly repeated itself - but with the twist that all good time travel stories eventually feature! 

This weekend's plan was Quandary Peak. You might remember that last August, I attempted this 14-er? 

Given that I have been doing better with my hiking if I sleep near or at trailhead altitude the night before, I took it upon myself to drive up to Breckenridge last night and car camp. I met Sue in Breck to catch the Quandary Shuttle at 5 AM and we were on the trail by about 5:30 AM, sporting headlamps of course.

The weather guessers all warned that thunderstorms were a strong possibility after noon. I tend to average about 1000' altitude gain/hr so estimated on getting up to the peak in about 3.5 hours + stops. We hiked slowly by design, both of us feeling pretty good with our legs and breathing. It's a strenuous trail... steps, roots, rocks and just plain steep. 7 miles roundtrip so about 3300' of gain in that 3.5 miles getting to the peak. Not for the faint hearted and yet the trail still featured glamour sneakers, short shorts and sea-level hikers attempting their very first 14-er.

Sometime around 7 AM the ominous dark clouds accumulating in the direction we were headed, started making heads turn. A tad early, no?!

At the first drops of rain (quickly followed by a downpour) Sue and I hurried to put on our Goretex gear. Huddled in fetal positon on the exposed rocks - like conjoined twins - we tucked our heads inside her pack cover as the rain turned freezing and penetrated our gloves. Good times! We giggled inside the orange pack cover and I wondered outloud if this was a premonition of times to come on Kilimanjaro. "At least our tent will be bigger" Sue said. True that! I can honestly say these moments were a highlight of my day, even if a little on the miserable side.

Talk of us turning and high-tailing it down the mountain surfaced and I think at that point I gave it a >80% chance of happening. But here's the thing; Aug 15, 2024 I was here, in fetal position, having the same conversation with myself. At that time, I did go down. And not 45 mins later, looked back to see blue sky over Quandary. My hands were freezing and I didn't regret that decision but I also knew I would be back to conquor this beast. (Read: Quandary attempt of 2024)

And that brings us back to today. After 20 mins or so, a quick peak outside the "tent" A.K.A pack cover, revealed the smallest patch of blue sky beginning to show up where the dark clouds had been. We gave it 5 more minutes then agreed to walk a little further up before determining if summiting was in the cards.

Behind a large stretch of blue sky, came another possible cell bringing rain. I had my spare gloves on and was slowly warming up, but Sue was not as lucky - and had more concerns about a second round of freezing rain. Valid concerns. The same concerns that drove me off the mountain last year and were driving dozens of people downhill now.

We agreed to part ways for now, with Sue returning to the trailhead and me deciding to go a bit further...and a bit further still, as the weather permitted. I had little interest in a battle of wits with a thunderstorm but there was no sign of lightning or thunder at this time. I was feeling more and more convinced that the weather would hold as I soldiered on. It was only 9 AM.

Exactly 45 excrutiating minutes later, I made it beyond the false summit to Quandary Peak. The sky was blue and the air was warm. I was pleasantly surprised to find low wind and low cloud cover at the top. 

When my brain is low on oxygen, I see the world differently. 
This shadow in the rocks, I could have sworn was a little hiking figure!

Mandatory peak pictures were made and I began the descent shortly thereafter. In my oxygen-deprived mind, I somehow thought I might catch Sue again. (Fully competent me knows that was never likely given her strong downhill pace and motivation to get home to her pup by early afternoon.) I stopped to de-layer and took a quick O2 Sat reading, since I forgot that at the top. I was at about 13,800' now.

Then I darn near skipped and almost jogged down 3300' and 3.5 miles. I had found my second wind - or was it my first?! Somewhere along the way, convincing myself that if I skedaddled, I might be able to catch the 12 noon shuttle back to Breckenridge.

11:51 AM: I staggered into the parking lot and huffed loudly alongside the waiting Shuttle, having JUST passed a half dozen other hikers, who would be making it here in the next 5 and competing for a seat.

The driver eyed me keenly and said "Just one? Going to Breck?" 

"Yes" I wheezed. 

I was in luck. He had literally one spot available in an already over-stuffed vehicle. The front seat beside him. As I climbed in, my body already starting to complain about jumping down steps for 2 hours, I told the bus load of people they just answered my prayers and my goal in hustling, had been to catch this particular shuttle. They replied, I had just answered theirs! You see they all needed a single person to come bounding down the trail and fill the last seat so they could leave ASAP instead of waiting til 12 noon as the schedule would have required. (9 mins doesnt sound like a long time to wait, until you are one of 16 sweaty, odiferous, overheated hikers crammed into a short bus with your pack on your lap.)

Now with 2 minutes of rest under my belt and back at 10,600', I decided to take my O2 saturation again:

Not too shabby for Dallice!

Driver Doug and I had a great chat about Kiwi music and world travel all the way down and I found myself on the road, music blaring, headed home in my 4-runner just minutes later.  I70 was the joy it has not been for weeks, and I was home by 2 PM. What an unexpected turn of events!

Quandary Peak fail - Oh well

Quandary Peak. One the Colorado "14-ers" and reputedly an easy one at that. I mean challenging in that you have to hike uphill for 3.5 miles, ascending 3300' before reaching the peak. But easy in that it was not a technical trail - it is well trafficked, well maintained and easily identifiable.

I set out to do this one alone. The weather was forecast said zero percent chance of rain. I packed Goretex just in case, of course. 

There was the 4am alarm clock. And the two hour drive from Boulder in the dark. Then I joined handfuls of other people at 6:30am, just after the sun rose, to begin the hike. 

Not going to lie. My diamox-enabled legs were dragging but I was making my way slowly up the trail.  The first mile through the forest. Very nice indeed. 

The second mile featured pika's foraging for bunches of flowers to decorate their rock homes and my first view of the peak. I listened for the squeaks of enthusiasm and trained my eyes for movement, then shot a few pics of them. (I had been seeking out pikas all year!)

Then after climbing 2500' up, finding myself on the ridge just prior to the final push, something happened to the weather. It took a turn! Within minutes light rain became driving frozen pellets hitting me head on. Then came kinda white-out conditions with snow... and me huddled in fetal position, sporting waterproof shoes, pants and jacket and ice accumulating on my backpack.

I think I could have stayed a while longer and waited for a return of blue sky if it wasn't for 2 things:

1. My gloves were wet through and my hands were wickedly cold and very painful.

2. One of my fellow hikers pulled weather up on her phone and announced to everyone nearby that the weather was staying like this for several hours. 

We all fled down the mountain. Over the icy quartz rocks that made up the trail stairs, and through the mud. I was one of the better prepared when it came to gear - think 21 year old gals with short shorts and thin windbreakers, flatlanders without gloves and hats,  day-trippers in corduroy shirts and glamour sneakers soaking up the rain. But everyone understood that the snacks, photo ops and cheerful conversations with strangers, had come to a grinding halt.

One hour later, 1000 feet lower, I turned to find blue sky had returned. My fingers were almost recovered too. Drat!!! It was too late. I didn't have the energy or muscle strength to head on back up again. This little challenge would be revisited again really soon though. 

C'est la vie!

What did I learn today?

1. Always bring hand warmers

2. Waterproof gloves in any season are worth it. (Experiment with which ones work with hiking poles)

3. Could take one less warm layer. (I forget how warm it is to hike up, up, up!)

3. Carry fewer snacks - there is no nice place to sit and eat once you are up in the rocks anyway

4. Drink more water. More water. WATER. (This one seems the hardest lesson for me and the price is paid later in the day.)

5. Get better sleep the night before.

6. It's OK to abandon the hike and try again another day for any reason. The goal is joy and a beautiful experience, not suffer and sacrifice just to tell a better story afterwards.

7. Bringing the big camera is a luxury and how that feels on the day of the hike, is the answer to "should I or shouldn't I?"

8. Going alone doesn't mean you should expect to be alone up there - and that's not a bad thing.

9. Remember to learn from others on the trail, give to others on the trail, don't judge others on the trail!

10. Stop to look around. Flowers, animals, views, fresh air and human moments are all worth a few seconds of intentional observation and gratitude WILL follow.