Hiking Mt. Elbert

We had planned to be at the Mt. Elbert trailhead by 7, but sleeping in won out, and it was almost 8. Our first stop of the day was at a convenience store, where I preemptively bought two celebratory beers to drink post-peak-bagging. The obviously local crusty, grey haired, attendant crookedly smiled at me and mused "This isn't a good day for the mountain." I had to agree with him; as we drove up the country road to the trailhead, the peak was shrouded in mist, and suspicious looking grey clouds.

Call it determination, or masochism, we were going to hike Mt. Elbert. Every group we passed the first hour didn't make it to summit because the weather was too dicey.  They had followed the rules for hiking a peak; wake up at a freakishly early hour and be off the mountain before noon. While down-trodden hikers in thick parkas and gloves tried to warn us about the sleet, snow, and rain, we kept going, hoping that by some twist of fate, the weather would clear as the day went on. Ironically, as we climbed the forested switchbacks, behind thick clouds, a cold grey sun began to emerge.

Once out of the tree line, it's said you're halfway up the mountain. Even though this may be correct in terms of mileage, qualitatively, the worst is yet to come because after you've emerged from the forest, the climb up is relentless, and there is no moment of flat, or downhill, only up. And even though the weather wasn't bad, it wasn't good. The surrounding vistas were still covered in clouds, so we really could only see the trail steepen in front of us. As our legs started to feel the elevation gain, the clouds began to clear, and the earthen-iron-rich Rockies rose above the mist.

Resting for a minute on the way up.

Chirping Pikas and sun-bathing Marmots are great cheerleaders for the final push! I was especially delighted to see so many Pikas up close; their dwindling numbers are evidence of our warming climate. Pikas live in cloud islands, usually above 10,000 feet. As temperatures rise, these cloud islands float up and away to increasingly higher elevations; eventually the islands will no longer hug the mountains at elevations Pikas can thrive in.

The chirps faded into the background during the last 500 feet of climbing and the final ascent came into view. You will pass a 5 foot rock stack to the left where the trail flattens out. The final climb to the peak is a cake walk. The peak itself is somewhat unassuming; it’s a tall pile of talus. And although the view was still obliterated by clouds, and light snow was falling on us, it felt exhilarating to have hiked my first "14er” and take in the surroundings.

On the peak of Mt. Elbert

Snow Flakes on Summit!

Light begins to fill the surrounding valley.

Mt. Elbert stands at 14,439' and is the tallest peak in the American Rockies. The total elevation gain is 4,700 feet; the hike was strenuous but not technical. The trail is well maintained to the top. Up and down with some food breaks the 10-mile round trip hike took us about five hours.

Views from the trek down the mountain.

Patches of Turning Aspens 

Ryan post-lunch break.

I have completed more challenging and technical hikes that were at lower elevations. Ryan and I also spent two nights in San Isabel National Forest, and hiked at high elevations throughout the summer, so we were already acclimated to high country. So, the elevation is something to consider; I felt a bit winded at points during the final climb.

Beautiful groves of turning Aspens in San Isabel National Forest.

Our Campsite in San Isabel National Forest.

The surrounding national forests and Collegiate peaks are enchanting and dramatic. We were lucky enough to be around just as the aspens began to turn; each day they slowly spread golden fire across the mountain sides.

Mt. Elbert is a great first 14,000 ft. summit to hike. It is just challenging enough to be a feat, but not technical enough to require mountaineering skills. The hike bolstered my peak bagging confidence, and motivates me to attempt trickier, more challenging summits in the future. Ultimately, I plan on hiking Mt. Whitney and this was a good trial run to see how my body adjusts to high altitude. 

Two of the biggest lessons learned on the trip; Nothing is impossible, and everything you want is out there. So much of life, whether it is a physical feat, or a career goal depends on self-confidence, and believing in yourself. The mantra I kept repeating to myself when I was tired on the last mile of the hike to the summit was: you can and you will. I've aspired  to hike a peak over 14,000 feet for the past couple years, and it felt rewarding to accomplish that goal.