I spent a lot of time hiking while I was there, but one of my regrets was that I didn't climb Bear Mountain, which is essentially the highest point on Boulder Mountain, the mountain that flanks the south side of the city. It seemed like an obvious thing to do, yet I was still somewhat intimidated by the steepness. Right at the end of the summer, one of my co-workers---a cheerful Swede named Lars---invited me along on a hike to that spot, but I didn't quite have the gumption to do it. Also I worried I might slow him down, given that he used to be a ski instructor in Aspen.
It's this latter thing---fear of being the slow person in a group---that has kept me from going on a group hikes in the past. It's not only that I feel out of shape compared to others, but also simply that I like to take my time, to preserve my energies over the long haul, and also, most especially, I like to just daydream and stare off into space. I don't like the idea of racing through things, as many like to do.
So it was with some trepidation that I decided to go along on a group hike this weekend. I found it through the website reddit, which I've used as my primary news source for the last five-plus years. Recently someone started a coloradohikers subreddit there with the idea of soliciting group hikes. Since I've been planning to do more hiking this year, it intrigued me. When I saw that the first hike was to be to none other than the top of Bear Mountain, I knew this was absolutely something I had to do.
To make it easier on myself---meaning, harder to back out---I replied to a message on the message from someone needing a ride from Fort Collins. Thus I committed myself early, and arranged by text message to pick the person up near campus at a quarter to seven on Saturday morning. Thus there was no backing out when I woke up yesterday morning.
My companion for the ride down was named Franklin. He was a student at CSU studying pre-vet-med, and wanted to go vet school after graduation. I told him about my job at CSU many years ago, where I had milk and slaughter goats. Franklin turned to be from New York---from out on Long Island.
We got to the South Mesa trailhead right at 8 in the morning. There were about ten people there. I had to scramble to pay for parking so I could leave with the group.
The first couple miles were gentle. It was sunny and warm. I was wearing my new Golite down jacket over my new Kulh wool fleece, as well as a hat and balaclava. About a mile in, I was sweltering. Some of the others were almost stripping down to their t-shirts and shorts by this time, but when we got up into Shadow Canyon, it got cooler quickly and I was glad I had worn all my layers.
It was about then that we started hitting snow and ice on the trail, and all of us who brought them got our microspikes. This had in fact been my purchase the day before, upon recommendation of the hike organizer. I had used my entire REI dividend for a new set of Kahtoola Microspikes. I had debated whether to buy a pair, but on the trail, it became obvious that I wouldn't have been able to make the hike without them.
The hike was brutally steep in the snow, nevertheless, especially the last few miles up to the top. My arms grew very weary pulling my trekking poles out of the snow.
I was by far the slowpoke. The group had to stop and wait for me to catch up as the last one. But I didn't feel so bad. It was obvious that I was probably at least twice as old as every other person in the group. Slow and steady wins the race. I know how fast I can go, and I wasn't go to go any faster.
Sheer willpower kept me going the last few miles. Each step seemed like the last one I could take. I would look up to the summit and think: no way can I make it, but also "I'm not going to stop, no many how long it takes me to get there."
Finally, at a little past noon, we got the very windy summit. Those without layers were surely suffering then, but I felt toast warm, except for my toes that were freezing in my non-waterproof boots. I scrambled to the top of the rocks and touched the USGS marker at the summit. I'd made it to the top of Bear Mountain at last.
On the way down I lagged behind the group again, not because of exhaustion, but because I didn't want to twist my ankle. In this case, a few others lagged behind with me, including Ben, who was from New York City and had grown up in White Plains. We talked about the military history and the Revolutionary War as we walked together.
That was one of the quirks of the whole trip----the first four people I introduced myself to were ex-New Yorkers, and everyone else was from somewhere else. As far as I could tell, I was the only person there who had grown up in Colorado.
By the time we got to the trialhead, I was walking in spirit with the group, not lagging behind, and with a smile on face. I'd preserved my energies just the right amount. By this time everyone was talking outloud about all the food they were going to eat.
As we stood at the trailhead in the parking lot, everyone said how much fun they had had, and they we should do this on a regular basis. Already there are plans for another hike next week.
On the way back to the Fort, Franklin and I stopped at my suggestion at the A&W in Berthoud where we wolfed down burgers, fries, and root beer. That A&W is my favorite place to stop between Boulder and Fort Collins. Berthoud is a nice little town. Franklin said he had never been in an A&W before. It was the perfect end to the day.
I've included the photo that another hiker took of us, at the top of Bear Mountain. I'm the guy in the back, in the red down vest, happy just to have made it to the stop. My friend Franklin is down in front with the yellow hat.
Here's the map of Bear Mountain.
No comments:
Post a Comment