I was up at 3 a.m. on Saturday, June 19, to finish organizing, picked up a friend between 4 and 4:15, and made it to Manitou Springs around 5:40. The parking lot at the trailhead (near the cog RR, for those who are even remotely familiar) was full, and Sara and I had to head back down the hill to find a place to park. [Editor's note: Fun fact, East Coasters: Sara's from Erie, Pennsylvania!] Then, of course, we had to take a little hike just to get back up to the trailhead. It was just barely 6 a.m. when we started up Barr Trail (the trail to the summit is 13 miles, FYI). Monongahela was bursting with excitement—so many new sights and smells and people... I was glad for her energy, as she seemed confused when we left the apartment at an obscure hour.
It took us almost five hours to get to Barr Camp at the seven-mile mark. Sara needed frequent stops and wasn't feeling fabulous. Barr Camp is a nice place for a break: You're already halfway up the mountain, and there are cabins, bathrooms, creeks, and a store to buy Gatorade, snacks, etc. I told Sara we should just head back down when she was feeling OK; it's stupid to risk your health (life?) and try to keep going. It would have been an especially bad idea because we were told the second half takes an hour longer than the first half... Sara insisted that I continue, that she was happy to stay at camp and nap and read and write and just wait for my return and my stories. (There is excellent reception on the face of the mountain, so in a few hours she'd be able to text me easily and find out exactly where I was.) I took her up on it, and Little Mon and I tackled The Mountain.
We made absurdly good time to the 10-mile mark (a mere 90 minutes), at tree line, and I thought it was crazy that this second half was projected to take me six hours. Monongahela particularly enjoyed all the other hikers loving on her and complimenting her, and, boy, was she my rock! Encouraging her with "Good girl! Great job! We'll pause in about 15 minutes. ... 14 minutes. ..." was only half for her. I needed to tell myself I could do it. Cue the Wayne's World line: "It will be mine. Oh, yes, it will be mine!" She'd crawl into my lap when we sat for water breaks, but the second I stood back up she was jumping around, eager to continue.
I think it's important to note the kind of people I ran into on my ascent. Many recognized me from camp and asked where Sara was. I explained, and they said they'd check on her when they made it back and would tell her how and where I was. How solicitous and thoughtful. Got a lot of "Yeah, Penn State!" remarks (I wore a PSU football shirt, and, well, you saw Monongahela sporting her colors) and had a chat about Nebraska with a group from Wisconsin. They encouraged me on my way up: "You're seriously so close," and I was glad to be that person for others on my way down.
A mile from the top, Monongahela and I spotted many pikas and marmots. I told her if she caught one she could eat it. No harm in motivating her, right? (She was on a five-foot leash, folks, so it wasn't going to happen unless one was stupid enough to get close to her.) I only had to carry her once on the way up, and I'm not even sure it counted. She didn't have the footing to jump across a stream, so I jumped into it to lift her from one side to the other, and shortly thereafter she kept walking. I did manage to get her muddy pawprints all over me, and I considered them my trophy. Can't be a good hike if I'm not dirty.
The last mile was the hardest physical thing I've ever done, no doubt. I was excited but aching. When would it end? I hated switchbacks on my way up so, so much. I was also functioning on very little sleep after going out Friday night. I know, readers; I know. Don't tell my grandmothers. But I still did the second half in just four hours, so...
At the top, we took in the view, and I snapped pictures galore. The people who took the cog RR up (or drove!) probably laughed at us, because their legs weren't going to fall off, but I got the glory, suckers. Tourists loved petting my little girl and were amazed at what she did. "She's my little mountain dog," I replied. I'm sure I was beaming.
It took me about two hours to get back down to Barr Camp, and I hugged the snot out of Sara. I didn't want to get caught in the dark for too long on our way down, so after a brief rest we started the descent of Lower Barr Trail. Here's where Little Mon showed she was tired. She "quit" twice, but it was cute: She'd just stop and lie down, once propping her head up on a rock and just staring at me. My own legs felt like Jell-O, but what's 18 more pounds? She's only a baby, and I would be lying if I didn't say I was completely satisfied with a sleeping puppy in my arms for the last mile of the 26.
When we made it back to my car (about 9:15 p.m.), I found a note tucked under my windshield wipers. It was from a hiker I talked to about Sara on his way down! He had asked about her at camp and wished us a safe return. I was really touched—and only a little confused as to how he knew it was my car. (He'd gone to grad school at Penn State and spent some time in Pittsburgh as well. My car is marked with a PSU plate frame and a small Steelers emblem.)
We stopped at a McDonald's off I-25, and it might be the best fast food has ever tasted. Once back to my apartment, I dropped my backpack on the floor and flopped onto my bed, not even bothering to get the dirt out from under my nails and not even attempting to get my puppy in her crate. No, she slept with me, her body up against mine and her head on me. I'm not convinced either of us moved at all during the night. We were exhausted.
You can check out our escapades here.
Monongahela was still visibly tired Sunday morning, as I honest-to-God couldn't get her to do anything before 9:30, and would follow me around only to find new spots to nap. If I was in this corner to take things out of my pack, then she was sleeping on a pair of my shorts two feet away. If I was in the kitchen cleaning our water bottles, then she was snoozing on my feet. I have no doubt she spent the afternoon napping on the couch while I went to the Brewers/Rockies game.
I spent 15 hours on that mountain. Hell of a first 14er. ...And I'm hooked.
No comments:
Post a Comment