So. I climbed a mountain. But you know what? It wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not by a long shot. And it’s not like I’m filled with exotic accomplishments either. This was just an accessible, yet supremely rewarding hike.
And it went a little something like this:
My friend/coworker (froworker), Josh, and I decided to attempt to summit and return in one day instead of two; certainly not unprecedented, though probably a bit ambitious, especially for a couple of out-of-shape twenty and thirty somethings. We left our Portland base at 5:45 AM and drove through The Gorge to the mountain. After arriving at Cold Springs Campground around 8, we packed and re-packed our bags, chatted with some folks, and hit the trailhead at 9:01.
Some quick facts about the hike:
Elevation at camp ~ 5,600’
Elevation at peak ~12,300’
Elevation gain ~ 6,676’
Distance from camp to peak ~5.7 mi
Since the round-trip distance was only 11.4 miles we decided to measure the hike in terms of elevation, rather than miles walked. Therefore, Lunch Counter at 9,000’ became the halfway point each way, even though it was more than two-thirds of the distance from the car to the summit.
The first 1,500 or so feet wound around a dusty, well-marked path cut through lava rock meadows, with evergreen bushes and colorful mountain wildflowers livening the otherwise barren, reddish-brown mountainscape. Giant Rock Cairns stood guard over the path, ensuring we were headed in the right direction and whistling marmots greeted us with their usual indifference as we passed.
The next 1,500 feet up to Lunch Counter was on the snowfields, so the going was a bit slower. The sun still shone brightly, and even though we were gaining altitude, the temperature remained a lovely 65 degrees. Some blogs I read claimed it was a two-hour trek from the parking lot to Lunch Counter, four hours from Lunch Counter to the summit, and three hours back down to the car. Which as it turns out is a pretty accurate estimate if your name happens to be Flash Gordon. Or Clark Kent. Or the Goddamned Batman. The first leg of our trip (from trailhead to Lunch Counter) took about three and a half hours.
Lunch Counter for lunch. Go figure.
We broke for about an hour. Even though the air temperature was warmish, I still decided to put on a jacket to keep from cooling down too much. My froworker boiled some snow to replenish our spent water supplies while we ate bagels and granola bars. What lay ahead of us was truly a sight to behold; a mile long snowfield leading up to the 11,600 false summit called Piker’s Peak. Watching clouds created by, and then lifting off the snowfield, I couldn’t help but think my next three hours were about to be very painful. Until now I had been walking without gators, which I decided to put on before continuing up the mountain.
After lunch we pressed on. All those that had gone before us were glissading down; swooshing and zooming past, taking full advantage of the nearly 2000 foot long glissade chutes. A few hours later, it was just the two of us climbing silently up the mountain, through the clouds, and on to the summit. Despite the occasional fog-induced whiteout, there was no wind, no movement on the mountain. While I rested, the loudest thing I could hear was the beating of my own heart.
Cresting Pikers Peak was a welcome break, and an accomplishment in and of itself. For as long and arduous as that last 2,600 vertical feet felt, Lunch Counter seemed impossibly close. I’m pretty sure that if I had a stone, or a paper airplane, I could have hit Lunch Counter. But I didn’t stop long. Josh was below me in the clouds, and on the other side of a relatively small valley I could see what I thought was the final rise to the summit. Despite the thinning air, my legs somehow felt strong and fresh. I headed across the valley and up again, only to discover the top was a second false summit. Grumble. No matter, the top was in sight; just a few hundred more yards to go…before I discovered the third and (thankfully) final false summit.
Aaand the top.
It was a bump. A bump at the top of a mountain. It’s actually kind of difficult to explain what the top looked like, so I made a video of it.
I had about thirty minutes to myself. No people, no noise, no bugs, not even any airplanes in sight. For half an hour, my entire existence was me, my mountain, and the pinkeining sky of an epic sunset at altitude.
By and by, Josh made it to the top. We took a few pictures, executed a high-five, and admired the clouds. I wanted him to experience the same solitude I had, so I took my leave and headed back down.
We were mostly off the snowfields as the light failed, but still had about an hour and a half walk through the dark. We both had headlamps and GPS units, and were able to follow the path without much issue at all.
Thirteen and a half hours after we set out, we were back to Cold Springs Campground; tired, hungry, thirsty, and mountaineers.
