14, 196ft
Sawatch Range
14/58

My parents and I were eating lunch at our favorite Vietnamese restaurant and I blurted out the confession or admission or statement or whatever a twenty-six year old calls these things, that I would be driving to the trailhead of Mount Yale later that day .. by myself. They asked me a slew of parent-questions and then extended their hesitant permission or approval or surrender or whatever parents of a twenty-six year old calls these things. And then offered a few alternative suggestions for good-parenting-measure. (Kind of like when I put a deposit down on my first tattoo. My mom called and offered to reimburse me and pay for me to get a henna tattoo instead, I declined. Now I’m four in and always dreaming up the next one, sorry mom).

I had extended an invitation to a few people, most of whom I figured wouldn’t come, but mainly I think I wanted to prove to myself I could solo an entire experience from start to finish (with the dog, of course). I had resolved I would when I was in Spain and now was my chance to follow through.

I had my leftover curry boxed up and went home to prepare.

I started my journey after grabbing coffee with my two best friends. They were both caffeinating for night shift and I was there to prepare for the 3.5+ hour drive I had ahead of me.

I intended to sleep in my car that night since I wouldn’t be getting to the trailhead until around 2200. I had about an hour and a half to go when the sun began setting; the drive into Fairplay, Colorado is already one of my favorites and the sunset made it all the more spectacular. I decided it was the best possible time to eat my leftovers and let the pup stretch his legs a bit, so I drove approximately half a mile, sat on the hood of my car and took it all in. There was a brief moment when I thought life couldn’t get any better and then I looked out into the distance and saw that my dog, now a shade darker, was thinking the same thing thanks to the wet cow field I’d positioned us directly in the middle of. I screamed at him to come, but the damage was done.

I poured my entire water supply on him, dried him off to the best of my abilities with his blanket, folded the dirty side up and made him sit on it. I don’t fully have words to describe the misfortune I felt and smelled from that point on. I stopped in Buena Vista to refill my water and buy hand sanitizer and when I got back out to the car I found that Arlo had enjoyed the rest of my dinner. I rolled my eyes and drove the remaining forty-five minutes to the trailhead.

I slept surprisingly well and woke up to a fellow hiker arriving at the trailhead around 0315. Thankful to know there would be someone ahead of me on the trail, I began making my own preparations and Arlo and I were on the trail by 0345. The moon was so bright I kept mistaking it for a headlamp and turning around. I made it to tree line just before sunrise and found a perfect rock to sit on and enjoy panoramic views of the day beginning. It was at this point that I saw another person for the first time, we greeted each other with a nod and he continued on his way.

The remainder of the hike consisted of a few snow patches and then a few more awful switchbacks. I pressed on, with Dierks Bentley’s new song “The Mountain” appropriately on repeat (the whole album is a freaking incredible, for the record). I stopped at the top of the switchbacks to enjoy the sunlight and give Arlo’s new shoes a try. At that point, a second hiker passed me, we nodded at each other and he continued ahead. To my pleasant surprise, the summit came quickly after that and I was greeted by three guys, all of whom I assumed were around my age. One handed me a PBR and we all began the standard “how many have you climbed?” summit conversations.

All four of us had soloed this mountain and were from various places in Colorado. I soon learned that one, an Olympic athlete on his off day, had summited all but one 14er. Another, the one who gave me the beer, was just diving into the world of 14ers – I would later discover we had both lived in the same tiny mountain town two years a part and knew several of the same people. The third was attempting to finish all of the 14ers by the end of the summer and was only sixteen, this came as a shock to all of us and I couldn’t help but think of the conversation I’d had with my parents the day prior. We all snapped a picture together, wished each other luck on the future summer climbs and said our goodbyes.

As of the day I’m writing this (6.25), Mount Yale is my favorite 14er experience. It was beautiful. I felt strong. I conquered fears. I felt like who I want to be and reminded myself who I can be. I made three friends I still talk to (I’ve already hiked with one of them – Mount Lindsey – and have plans to hike with another next week). The views were incredible. The weather was perfect. And it was the beginning of many many more breakthroughs for me, I think.

“It was only a mountain, nothing but a big old rock. It was only a mountain, it ain’t hard if you don’t stop. It just took a little step, a right then a left, then a couple million more, who’s counting?” – Dierks Bentley (The Mountain)