Thirteen Hours • Notes from the Mountain No. 21

Thirteen Hours

Notes from the Mountain • Issue No. 21

Notes from the Mountain is Mountain Goat Soap Co.'s weekly journal, where I share stories from the outdoors, the workshop, travel, and the everyday adventures that inspire both my life and my work.

Ten years ago today, three girlfriends and I started hiking in the dark toward Longs Peak (14,259') in Rocky Mountain National Park at 3:00AM. If you've been following this blog, you may remember why this is often a good thing.

I'd already climbed many other Colorado 14ers, but Longs was different. It was longer, more technical, more exposed and, as it turned out, the most difficult one I'd ever attempted. We knew we had a very long day ahead of us. What I didn't know then was that ten years later, it would still be one of my very favorite memories.

We spent the first several hours hiking by headlamp, seeing only the small patch of trail illuminated in front of us. Eventually daylight arrived, and so did the wind. Did I mention the wind?

At one point we reached an exposed area where it was blowing hard enough that we needed more jackets, hats & gloves before we could continue. Opening a backpack in gale-force wind isn't exactly ideal, so we crouched behind enormous boulders, using them as shelter while we dug through our packs and added layers. Then we kept going.

There was something different about hiking with these three women. We weren't in a race with each other or anyone else. If someone needed to stop, we stopped. If we needed another layer, we put one on. If there was something worth looking at, we looked at it. We were absolutely serious about what we were doing. We just weren't in a hurry to get through it. And there were parts we genuinely enjoyed.

One of my favorites was the Boulder Field, where we hopped from one enormous rock to another. Some were as big as cars. It felt less like hiking and more like navigating a giant playground made entirely of granite. Eventually we reached the Keyhole.

The wind whipping through the Keyhole was FIERCE. It was bad enough that we seriously considered turning around. Two of our group decided the Keyhole was far enough for them that day. My BFF and I decided to continue.

And then something strange happened. We made our way through the Keyhole...and it was completely calm. After all that wind and noise, the other side felt almost peaceful. But, Longs Peak wasn't finished with us yet.

Beyond the Keyhole, the route became considerably more challenging. There are places with very real exposure where a wrong step can have very serious consequences. And at 5'1", I discovered another problem. Some of those rock ledges apparently were not designed with me in mind. There were places where getting from one standing spot to the next required me to get a foot so ridiculously high that I'm pretty sure my leg was somewhere near my head. It wasn't graceful. But it worked.

And then there was the Homestretch.

The final push to the summit is a steep slab of granite that looks almost impossibly vertical when you're standing at the bottom of it. There isn't a nice trail zigzagging its way to the top. You climb straight up the rock, using cracks and whatever handholds and footholds you can find. The exposure is very real. A fall in the wrong place could be deadly. Going up was intimidating.

I remember looking at it and thinking about how badly I wanted to stand on that summit. I also remember thinking about one other thing. We were going to have to come back down this. As it turned out, going down was even scarier.

But first, we had to get to the top. Eventually, my BFF and I reached the summit. Standing on top of Longs Peak felt incredible. We'd made it through the wind. Through the Keyhole. Across the exposed sections. Up all those absurdly tall ledges and finally, the Homestretch. We'd done it.

But anyone who spends much time in the mountains knows that reaching the summit isn't the end of the climb. You still have to get back down. Back down the Homestretch. Back across the exposed sections. Back through the Keyhole and the Boulder Field.

And, the descent brought a challenge we hadn't expected. At some point on the way down, my BFF started having trouble with her vision. She described it as looking through glasses that had been smeared with Vaseline. Not exactly what you want to hear when you're descending a mountain with exposed terrain and a lot of rock hopping still ahead of you. So we took our time.

For long stretches on the route, there isn't a traditional trail to follow. You're moving across enormous boulders and looking for painted targets that mark the route. You find one. Move toward it. Then stop and find the next. You don't just head in the general direction that seems right. Getting wildly off course can put you in very dangerous territory.

So that's what we did. We found the targets. We watched our footing. We looked after each other. And we kept making our way down.

By the time all four of us finally made it back, we'd been on the mountain for thirteen hours. Thirteen hours of hiking, climbing, scrambling, rock hopping, stopping, laughing, worrying, figuring things out and occasionally just standing there taking it all in.

We weren't fast. We weren't trying to be. Two of us made the summit. Two of us made the Keyhole. And all four of us made it safely back down the mountain.

Ten years later, that's the part that matters most. I don't remember wishing we'd gone faster. I remember the wind. I remember hiding behind those boulders. I remember hopping across rocks the size of cars. I remember the sudden quiet on the other side of the Keyhole. I remember standing on top of Longs Peak with my best friend.

And I remember four friends spending thirteen hours doing something really hard together...and actually enjoying the experience while we did it.

I'm glad we didn't rush through it.

I think we're all guilty sometimes of measuring a day by how much we got done. How quickly we finished. How many things we checked off the list. But ten years later, I couldn't tell you whether we climbed Longs Peak in a respectable amount of time. I don't even care.

I can tell you it was one of the best days I've ever spent on a mountain. Maybe there's something in your life right now that you're trying awfully hard to get through. I hope you remember to enjoy some of it while you're there.

From the Trail:

A short reflection inspired by the outdoors.

“Some days are better measured in memories.”

More soon,

Dianne

Bring the outside in.

P.S. Ten years later, Merle is still complaining that I climbed Longs Peak without him and thinks I should climb it again with him.

I love my husband very much.

I'm still not climbing Longs Peak again. 😂