My First 14er

Exhilaration at the summit of Mount Yale.

A fourteener is a mountain with over 14,000 feet of elevation. There are only 96 such mountains in the United States, all of them west of the Mississippi. The majority (53) are in Colorado.

When Michael and I originally planned our June vacation to California, we were planning to summit Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous US. And, secretly, my plan was to propose to him there, on top of the world. The only people who knew my plans were my mom, dad, brother, and two close friends. But, as you know if you read my last post, we never made it to California. COVID-19 intervened.

Since flights were out of the question, Colorado called. We could still do the things we wanted there like backpack, hike, kayak, and camp, all remaining in the backcountry, and our camper van and the opportunity to park on public land ensured the trip would remain pretty cheap, with our only real expenses being gas and groceries. Knowing the bounty of 14ers in Colorado, I figured I could adapt my original plan and still propose to Michael “on top of the world”.

The vacation was pretty loose as far as plans went since we threw it together a week before leaving. We knew we wanted to check out Boulder, visit some friends in Glenwood Springs, kayak in Buena Vista, and visit the Great Sand Dunes National Park. We also hoped at some point to hit a hot springs, hike a 14er, and get in some cool bicycling and at least one overnight backpacking trip. We had two weeks, so even with the drive time, it was plenty of time to do it all. I wasn’t too concerned about which 14er we did, I knew no matter which one we ended up climbing, it would be epic.

It was day four of our Colorado trip, June 16, when we woke up and decided that was the day. We were in Buena Vista, surrounded by the Collegiate Peaks, a group of 14ers all named after famous universities (Harvard, Princeton, Columbia, Oxford…). After doing some research, we settled on Mount Yale and made off for the mountain.

It’s hard to know exactly what to wear when you’re going to do such an extensive day hike with so much elevation change. It was sunny and warm that day, but we knew there was likely to be snow at the top. I had a long sleeve base layer on top, hiking pants, thick socks, and insulated hiking shoes. We took a small backpack to carry our water bottles, water purifier, a sandwich each, snacks, and extra clothes (I had a thin jacket, winter hat, and thin gloves at the ready). Within minutes of beginning our hike, I was sweating.

The long uphill slog was punctuated by very few flat spots. Just hour after hour of uphill hiking. It was the most difficult hike of my life. I was huffing and puffing for most of it, and I stopped to take a break far more often than Michael would have liked. About a quarter of the way up, a middle-aged man wearing shorts passed us, speed-walking. He was carrying no water, no pack, no anything, just an ice pick. I suddenly got concerned. Not concerned about a man passing us at light speed when I was riding the struggle bus, but about the ice pick. Did he know something we didn’t? Maybe the snow at the top would be impassable, maybe we’d need extra gear we didn’t have, maybe we wouldn’t even be able to get to the top at all.

I tried to put that out of my head and kept going. I had bigger things to think about. In a small leather pouch in my pocket, there was a ring. It was a simple, cheap ring I had gotten from a local store back home. It was mostly symbolic. Michael is way too picky for me to have invested much in an item he’d be required to wear forever without him having had some input in it. I mostly just wanted the ring so that he’d know this wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, and I had fully thought this through ahead of time. I wasn’t nervous, exactly, but I certainly was preoccupied. I didn’t even know what I was going to say when we got up there. Should I recite a romantic speech, or just pop the question out of the blue? How could I do something in between those two options? What if we got up there and there were a lot of people crowding around? I wanted it to be intimate and private. So many things were going through my mind. I kept patting my pocket to make sure it was still there when I knew Michael wasn’t looking at me.

Mt. Yale was beautiful. There were wildflowers everywhere, cold streams, and evergreen trees blanketing the surrounding landscape with their needles. The trail was very rocky, and steep in most places. We ran into someone coming back down the trail that assured us the snow was insignificant at the top and we would be fine reaching the summit with just our normal hiking shoes.

Just one of a thousand amazing views that day.

When we finally broke above the treeline, I thought we must be getting close, but we still had over 2,000 feet of climbing to do. And that was where the views turned truly breathtaking. Suddenly all around us were the other mountains, their peaks covered in snow, glistening in the sun. I felt like I was part of an epic quest, like a character in the Lord of the Rings. My photo taking at this point was getting obscene, and Michael urged me to move along. “We’re going to see the same sights on the way back down, you know.”

It was shortly after that that Michael started experiencing altitude sickness. He had had that experience before, so he knew what it was instantly. Having never had altitude sickness nor living near places where that can be an issue, I didn’t really know anything about it. He described it as “The worst hangover you can have”, a pressing headache that gets worse as you climb, and a full body sense of nausea. Water, food, rest, medicine...there is no treatment for altitude sickness, save for going back down to lower elevation. Michael started talking about turning around. He had summitted many 14ers prior to this one, and didn’t want to put himself at the mercy of the altitude.

This being my first 14er, I had no intention of turning around. We were ⅚ of the way there, and I was determined. Selfishly, I was thinking about the ring in my pocket more so than Michael’s symptoms, which weren’t terrible yet when were were having this conversation. I said something to the effect of “I understand if you decide to turn around, but it’d be so special if you were at the top with me, since this is my first time.” He conceded and decided to push on with me. If I had fully realized how terrible altitude sickness was at that time, I wouldn’t have pushed it.

We finally made it. While the entire hike up to then had been solid ground, the top became a jumble of rocks, ranging from large boulders to small gravel, and we scrambled over them to finally reach the summit, which was marked by a rock that had “Mt. Yale, 14,196 ft” carved into it (although Google says it’s 14,200 feet). There was one other family up there when we arrived, and no large flat spots to gather comfortably.

Michael was absolutely miserable by that point, having gotten progressively worse with each step we took closer to the peak. I was absolutely elated, feeling I had conquered a mythical beast. I begged Michael to take a picture of me to mark the occasion, after which he literally layed down among the rocks to avoid throwing up. It would have been funny if I hadn’t felt so bad. I was the reason he was up here, and he was so cranky and puny, there was no way this was “the moment” I had been waiting for. It wasn’t going to happen.

After taking a few moments to bask in the glory of our accomplishment, we began speed-hiking back down, to get Michael to a point where his body would recalibrate to more normal oxygen levels. I stopped to snap photos along the way and then jogged to catch back up to Michael, who kept walking. Finally, back below the treeline, he began to normalize. We ate sandwiches, relaxed on some rocks, and by the time we got back to the van, he was feeling perfectly normal. Altitude sickness is weird!

It was such an awesome day, I both loved and hated every moment of the climb up, but it was absolutely worth it for the views and the majesty that unfolded before us at the summit. I really had felt like I was on top of the world up there.

Driving back to our campsite, I began pondering when the next “perfect” moment might arrive on this trip. Maybe when we went to the hot springs? But hot springs are known to be crowded. Maybe after a great day of kayaking? But we have great days of kayaking all the time. I wanted it to be really special. I contemplated all the options for the rest of the day, and finally came to the conclusion there wouldn’t be any completely perfect moments. I should just keep the ring on me, and do it whenever the time felt right.

That evening, we were laying in our hammock, strung between two pine trees. The sun was setting and casting a beautiful alpine glow on the rocky outcroppings surrounding us. The rush of the Arkansas River made for pleasant background noise as we talked and cuddled. Everything felt right in the world. I asked, he said yes, and the rest is history. I don’t remember much of what we actually said in the moment, but I do remember how shocked and thrilled he was, and that he said, “My whole life just got better.” We stayed up stargazing in that hammock between the pines for hours...an exhilarating day that became a perfect one.

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