By Tarmac or Trail

“Take a breath, take a step, enjoy this moment. If we keep going forward then we will never be here again. Take your vitamins, eat your granola and take as many pictures as you can. Trust in strangers, be everyone’s friend and for the love of God enjoy the view. Keep your feet in the dirt and your head in the sky. It is going to hurt, give yourself time to heal. Drink from as many springs as you can. Live in this moment forever and it will never end.” – Matthew “Odie” Norman (www.hikeryearbook.com)

First and foremost, I want to acknowledge that 2020 was a terrible year for many of my friends and family – loved ones were lost, jobs were lost, and dreams were put on hold. By publishing this reflection, I in no way intend to diminish the hardship or suffering experienced by so many in my life.

I’m looking back on the year that nobody asked for and taking stock of what has transpired. It seems cliche to say, but yes, 2020 held many… MANY challenges, but also opportunities for growth.

At the beginning of the year, in February, I was invited out to the Mean Girls 1st National Tour to be a sub Assistant Stage Manager and had a life-changing three weeks with the company. As the rest of the team will attest, I walked around backstage with my mouth agape, because I could not believe what a pleasant experience being at work with that particular company was. My time with the Mean Girls company completely reversed my sour outlook on #tourlife and actually got me excited to go back out on the road (cue the pandemic…) Thank you, Peyton, for trusting me with that opportunity.

Next, there is so much I could say about my successful northbound thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. It was everything I wanted it to be – including the unplanned month-long work-for-stay at The Station at 19E – and still everyday now, I look back and wish I was still hiking. There were so many times when I’d get to a vista or be in the middle of experiencing something with my trail family, and I’d just freeze, because I wanted that moment to last forever and I didn’t want to move on from it.

The AT taught me that I really can achieve whatever my goals are because I pushed through so much while following that 18inch-wide strip of dirt for 2,200 miles. It taught me what truly matters in life, how to find joy in the little things, and also what is truly worth stressing about (like snakes.) One specific memory that strikes me is 30 miles into the 40 miles of Maryland that my friends and I were attempting to hike in 24 hours, completely out of water and in the midst of the mid-day summer heat. I had slept for 2 hours in the last 36 (don’t ever start a 24 hour challenge after being up all day) and was hallucinating due to worsening dehydration and exhaustion. At this moment, I came up to the edge of a huge rock field (without blazes of course) and just cried. I screamed “you have got to be FUCKING KIDDING ME” at no one in particular, and just felt bad for myself for little bit. But not too long, because I still had mileage to cover to reach my goal, and there was no one around to help carry me through the rocks or achieve my goal for me. And with that, I started picking my way through the boulder field. I think about that moment a lot when I encounter challenges at work these days.

After finishing the AT, my life has been a bit of a whirlwind. I went back to rural Tennessee to help run The Station at 19E hostel for a time in the owner’s absence. I spent time with my family in Massachusetts, and then decided it was time to get back to my new home, Colorado. Just like before, it was me, my Outback, and everything I own in the back of her, driving across the county.

So now, crazily, I work at Telluride Ski & Golf in Telluride, Colorado (and I live down the road in Norwood). I am a wrangler (essentially host/busser/expo) at Gorrono Ranch and a back waiter at Bon Vivant – two on-mountain, ski in/ski out, restaurants at the resort. My commute involves a gondola ride and then two lifts (to Bon Vivant, one lift to Gorrono) and then I ski back down the mountain the end of day.

I was a very beginner skier – having ski’d maybe 3 days in January 2020 – when I got here, and I quickly had to get good enough to ski blue runs to AND from Bon Vivant. (See trail map below) And even worse, I was VERY, VERY anxious about ski lifts.

A particular memory I have from this winter is when I was living in Dillon, CO (briefly at the beginning of November). I had just bought my new skis, boots, and bindings (no more rentals for me!) from REI and had gone to Loveland Ski Area to practice. I got there, paid for my pass, and had everything ready to go when I looked at what was open – a single lift that serviced both beginner and experienced terrain. What’s worse was that the lift was a high-speed quad and STEEP. I never ended up stepping into my bindings that day… I was too intimidated. I just went home, having wasted the money on the pass and very much with my tail between my legs.

Fast forward about a month to now, where, six out of seven days a week, I hop on two lifts by myself, early/before public access (with my employee pass), and it’s not a big deal… it’s just how I get to work. The amount of fear and anxiety surrounding my commute to and from work on the mountain that I’ve had to overcome quickly is something I’m proud of. Granted, I still don’t love skiing down the sheet of ice that is Polar Queen after a shift at Bon Vivant… but I’m working on it.

And that’s where we stand for now. I’m happy with my life here in southwest Colorado and I’m excited to get to know my new gigs and coworkers better. It’s pretty wild to reflect that, over the course of one year, I’ve gone from Touring Stage Manager…. to helping run a hiker hostel… to being a grizzled thru-hiker… to working at two on-mountain restaurants?

To close, I’ll share with you a list I made in the final days of my thru-hike. At the time, I had just been given advice that, in order to stave off post-trail depression, I should make a list of all the qualities I see in myself on trail that I want to transfer into my life in society. So, here is a list of who Free Fall is:

• he isn’t afraid of uncertainty and looks forward to seeing what challenges lie in store
• he assumes the best in people when first meeting them
• he doesn’t stress about changing “the plan” as new information or circumstances arise
• he is OK with not having a plan
• he isn’t afraid to be uncomfortable
• he is physically fit – fitness is not a determinant of the day’s adventure
• he likes waking up early and getting a productive jump on the day
• he believes in the kindness of strangers and that people are basically good
• he keeps his wits about him no matte the situation
• he isn’t afraid of his emotions and building attachments
• he can do a lot with very little
• he loves the outdoors and adventures and wants to share that with others
• he pushes though his fears because he knows growth and pride is on the other side

Happy New Year, everyone!
Love,
Zach “Free Fall” Tucker

Today is my one month trailaversary! As I’ve previously written, I got off trail this past Wednesday 3/25 at Hot Springs, NC (NOBO mile 274.9) amid concerns regarding the spread of COVID-19 along the trail and its communities. I’ve since been in Oak Ridge, TN, hanging out at a TownePlace Suites (thank you #tourlife hotel points), anxiously waiting and watching the news. I say this is and not would have been my trailaversary because I see 2/29/2020 as a symbolic turning point my life – the start of a trail, for sure, but I don’t think I have to be ON the Appalachian Trail to celebrate it. And to commemorate today, I’d like to look back on my first day on the AT.

The morning of Saturday, 2/29/2020, I woke up with my backpacked mostly packed from the night before – having checked in, unpacked onto the bed, taken a quick inventory, and then re-packed. All I had to do was throw my toiletry and electronics Ziploc bags in. I headed down the hall to meet Grant, a Aussie hiker I had met the night before at dinner, for a 7am breakfast buffet. I ate as much as I possibly could.

At breakfast, we agreed to meet in the lobby at 8:30am to head down to the Visitors Center and the famous arch. I didn’t know it at the time, but just a few minutes before Grant and I left, I saw two friends who I’d meet later that day were saying “goodbye” to the families in the lobby before leaving for the arch. I walked out of that room, with everything I’d need to live the next x number of months on my back, with a mixture of nervous anticipation and excitement.

Grant and I headed down the East Ridge Trail (bypassing the stairs) and actually walked backwards through the arch before arriving at the Visitors Center. We dropped our packs and stepped into the ATC class demonstrating the PCT bear hang method (what is usually the 2nd half of the Leave No Trace presentation). After that, we walked inside and officially registered our hikes, getting our tags and starting numbers – I am #519! We then sat through the 1st half of the Leave No Trace presentation and were wished “good luck!” Grant and I both walked out to the arch to take a photo and get started, but he told me that he actually had one more night in the Lodge and was starting the next day, so after walking through the arch and onto the blue-blazed Approach Trail, I was solo!

I can vividly remember the moments leading up to and while I was taking my first steps through the arch and onto the Approach Trail. People always talk about how thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail is a transformative experience, and my stomach was in knots as two warring factions in my mind came to a head: one that was reticent, afraid even, to let go of who I was, and the other, that couldn’t contain its excitement to see what this journey might elicit in me. I didn’t have too much time to dwell upon this feeling, however, as after 1 mile of road and road-adjacent walking, I came upon the 604 steps from the bottom of Amicalola Falls to the top.

I was surprised how good I felt after powering up the 604 steps, and, hoping that this was a good omen for the rest of the day, wanted to keep powering up the Approach Trail. Not long after passing the Lodge, I came across a sign that said “Springer Mountain – 7.3 miles – Average Hiking Time: 6 hours one way” (I would end up doing the entire 8.8 miles in just under 4 hours!) While on the Approach Trail, I passed a good number of dayhikers just going to Springer and a few pairs who were going to overnight at Black Gap Shelter (right before the AT) or Springer Mountain Shelter (mile 0.2?) Nothing particularly remarkable happened on the Approach Trail, but the terrain was strenuous in some places, and I passed a gentleman at Nimblewill Gap about 6 miles in who was calling it quits. Before I knew it, I came over a crest and saw a white blaze on a rock!

It was COLD and windy on top of Springer. While I was up there, taking in the view, multiple families hiked in from the Springer Mountain parking lot (mile 1.0) and I met Ryan “Rock Steady” (he came into it with a trail name), who was taking a break and eating a bar. We took each other’s photos with the first blaze, signed the register, and started on our journeys! We had gone maybe a quarter mile north when I was unbuckling all my straps in a hurry, throwing my pack off to the side of the trail, and helping another hiker stop a tripped-up hiker from being dragged down the hill by a heavy pack!

Soon after, we walked across USFS 42 & the Springer Mountain parking lot… AND GOT OUR FIRST TRAIL MAGIC! Rock and I weren’t expecting it so early in the trail! A 2019 thru-hiker who had to get off trail due to injury and her friend were handing out PBRs, wine, chips, and mini-muffins. We each took a PBR for the road and hiked onwards, catching up with a group of three: a husband and wife team and her friend. The guy ended up taking off with Rock and I, and the three of us hiked onwards at a blistering pace towards our chosen shelter for the night.

We arrived at the Stover Creek Shelter, mile 2.8, around 5pm, after hiking 11.6 miles for the day. I went up to the 2nd floor of the shelter to setup, Rock setup his tent near the shelter, and two of the three setup downstairs on the 1st floor while the guy went up the ladder with us. (I clearly never got any of their names). Already setup on the 2nd floor when I got there was John “Spreadsheet” (his name came after about a week) and arriving soon after was a couple – Matt “Posh Jesus” (he was first to get a trail name, just a few days later) and Kelly “Megatron”/”Griffin” (she was the trickiest to nail down a trail name for.)

Later, while we were all making dinner at the picnic table on the “porch” of the shelter, we were joined by Mike “Zippers”/”Seeker” (came with the trail name “Zippers” from the Long Trail, later changed) and Jacob “Valhalla” (trail name came within a few days). When we all laid down to sleep that night (and it was a cold night… brrr), I had no idea that I would spend the next 25 days with at least one of them, sometimes as a group, sometimes individually – for example, after Franklin, NC, Seeker and I got ahead of everyone else and we spent the better part of a week hiking as a duo.

It’s incredible how fast hiking, eating, and sleeping with someone bonds you together. I consider each of the people named above (Spreadsheet, Posh Jesus, Megatron/Griffin, Seeker, and Valhalla) to be some of my closest friends – and that list isn’t even CLOSE to exhaustive in naming all the people I formed tight bonds with. There’s also Mowgli, One Step, Samples, Red Bush, Dremel, John Mayer, Topo, Badmash, Andy (I think his trail name is now “Poison”?), and many more. But most of all, I miss that core group of fellow thru-hikers and the trail every. single. day.

I may have only been out on the AT for 25 days, but in that time, I believe I have walked several steps down the path of fundamental realignment and betterment. And I want to get back to walking that path SO BADLY. I remain hopelessly hopeful that we will all be able to resume our NOBO hikes this year, that I’ll get to hike with my friends again, and that everyone stays healthy during this crisis.

Most of all, I am grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to hike 274.9 miles. Grateful for the trail and the people who maintain it. Grateful for the trail community and the kindness of strangers. Grateful for those in MA and CO who supported me as I started this journey. Grateful for my road family who supported me when I first got this crazy idea. Grateful for my home family who suppressed their own fears about the trail and supported me wholeheartedly. Grateful for the fact that I can say I have a trail family, a road family, and a home family.

Just before laying down for that first night, I wrote this at the end of my journal entry:

Today has just been fucking awesome! I was smiling wide when I got onto the trail, and it’s a surreal feeling to be out here doing this. This community is awesome. I can’t wait to see what happens tomorrow. FUCK YES AT CLASS OF 2020! Love, Zach

Zach “Free Fall” Tucker (Saturday, 2/29/2020 @ Stover Creek Shelter, GA)

I’m super proud of this one – 16.1 miles (17.4 miles if you count the return trip back down Mt. Sanitas after finishing) and 5,674 feet of elevation gain in 8 hours of hiking. The Boulder Skyline Traverse is a classic hike/trail run that traverses the five tall peaks in the Boulder foothills: South Boulder Peak, Bear Peak, Green Mountain, Flagstaff Mountain, Mount Sanitas.

I started this morning at 10:40am at the South Mesa trailhead and climbed up to South Boulder Peak via the Mesa Trail and Shadow Canyon Trail. I made the decision to do the hike from south to north specifically to get the worst climb of the day out of the way early (or so I thought) – the trail through Shadow Canyon essentially goes straight up, gaining 1,600 feet in 1.2 miles (an average grade of 27%), and is an absolute asskicker.

Eventually, you reach the top of Shadow Canyon and are standing on the saddle between S. Boulder and Bear Peaks.

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Peak #1 – South Boulder Peak – 12:43pm

From there, I headed back down S. Boulder Peak, across the saddle, and up the short connector trail to the north side of Bear Peak’s summit. I scrambled up the boulders on the summit block, and checked Peak #2 off at 1:08pm.

I then scrambled back down the summit block and headed down the Bear Peak West Ridge trail – the first big descent of the day, losing 1,200 feet in just under 2 miles. The trail crosses a creek in Bear Canyon, where I had tentatively planned to refill my 2x 1-liter LifeWater bottles… but I wasn’t in too much trouble when I arrived to find it frozen solid.

Shortly after the creek, I took a hard left onto the Green-Bear trail and started a leisurely ascent up Green Mountain. After about 500 feet of gain, I turned right onto the Green Mountain West Ridge trail, which took me to the top of Peak #3 – Green Mountain at 3pm even.

From the summit of Green Mountain, I backtracked down the West Ridge trail and then turned right onto the Ranger Trail to descend down to Flagstaff Mountain. Descending the Ranger Trail took a hot second because it was steep and shadowy, meaning it was covered in ice. Before long, I was passing the Green Mountain Lodge and crossing Flagstaff Road for a short jaunt up the Ute Trail and to the summit of Flagstaff Mountain. The actual summit isn’t marked, and the highest point is described as a rock formation that resembles a molar… which I think I found? Peak #4 – Flagstaff Mountain at 4:07pm.

I was quickly running out of daylight (sunset was 5:04pm) and had the longest section between peaks to travel. I started down the Flagstaff Trail and turned onto the Viewpoint Trail at Panorama Point. After descending all the way back down into Boulder, I walked through Eben G. Fine Park where I refilled my water from a bubbler, put on my headlamp, and put on my rain jacket as an additional layer. After crossing through a tunnel, I hiked through Settler’s Park and down the hill to the Mount Sanitas Trailhead.

At this point, the sun had set and it was fully nighttime – I was hiking by the light of my headlamp. I started up the trail to the last peak, peak #5, Mount Sanitas via the Mount Sanitas Trail. And ya’ll, this was another absolute asskicker, for a few reasons: one, it’s objectively a steep hike as it gains 1,200 feet in 1.3 miles; two, it’s a steep hike when you’ve already hiked 15 miles; and three, I was doing this trail for the first time in the dark, by myself, with a headlamp. I dragged myself up that trail, getting lost a few times (thanks runner Kevin for leading me through a tricky section!), and seriously considering turning around as I was exhausted and knew that the descent would be just as rough.

But I couldn’t resist looking at my progress on the GPS, and, knowing I was SO CLOSE, decided to push on, and touched the sign at the summit with the loudest “fuck yeah!” howl I could muster at 7:08pm. I was so proud of myself, so happy I kept pressing onwards, and so in awe that I had just completed the traverse.

I stayed at the summit of Sanitas for a few minutes, enjoying the fantastic views of Boulder’s city lights, and then I headed back down the way I came. And it was a PAINFUL descent… and truthfully, it was more of a 1.3 mile controlled fall down the very steep and rocky trail. I arrived back down at the trailhead at 8pm, called a Lyft, and settled in for a 20 minute ride back to my car.

Things I’ll Do Different Next Time

I would like to hike the traverse again (maybe in the opposite direction), maybe with a group. I’m very happy with how the hike went, but there are a few things I’d change:

• START EARLIER! 8am at the latest (from either end)
• Bring water filtration – I passed a number of smaller streams along the way, but they weren’t moving fast enough for me to feel comfortable drinking it fresh
• Remember my sunglasses! Whole lot of good they did me back in the car…
• Attempt to hike Shadow Canyon with fewer breaks / a slower pace.
• Consider ascending/descending Mt. Sanitas via the Lion’s Lair trail. The standard route is just painful.

Thanks for reading!

True self-care is not salt baths and chocolate cake, it is making the choice to build a life you don’t need to regularly escape from.

Brianna Wiest

I can’t wrap up 2019 with a nice bow like: “it was a roller coaster of a year”, or “it had a lot of ups and downs”, or “it was great year!”, or “this year sucked!” – because they are all partially true. More than anything, 2019 was a year of tremendous change for me. I’ve made drastic professional and personal lifestyle choices in order to be happy, and I’m all the better for them.

The biggest change, by far, was to “get off the road” and stop working on Broadway national tours (temporarily, for now, more on that later). And it was 100% the best decision I could have made. I started 2019 off working a gig on a tour that had burned me out so thoroughly that I hated coming in to work every night, made me hate who I felt I had to be in order to be successful at that gig, and resulted in me pulling away from almost all of my friends (despite their best efforts to pull me back in – Taco and Emily, I’ll never be able to properly thank you for continuing to invite me over no matter how many times I said “no”) – I was stuck in a pit of self-loathing.

So I live in Denver now! And I am quite possibly the happiest I’ve been in years. I completely lucked out with a wonderful, cozy sublet with two great roommates and, if this isn’t an indication of settling down, I don’t know what is – I bought a mattress! I get out and hike multiple times a week now, have regular climbing partners, workout in the gym every other day (I can’t even tell you the last time I did that), and have goals and dreams that are NOT career focused, like hiking all of the Colorado 14ers.

Another big choice was that I bought a car! I’m the proud owner of a 2017 Subaru Outback and I’ve put over 20,000 miles on her since we drove off the lot at the end of May. I drove (instead of flying) between all of the tour stops from July to October, and I truly believe that the freedom of having my own personal vehicle (as opposed to a rental or sharing a company-supplied car) made all in the difference in helping my mental health. My Outback and I have driven cross-country almost twice, traveled from Massachusetts to Key West, FL and back again, and I’ve slept in the back in dark interstate rest stops, cold snowy trailheads, and on top of windy mountain passes. I hope she holds up to many more years of love and adventure.

Lastly, a short story. When the tour was moving from Nashville, TN to Greenville, SC, I chose to rent a car and drive (instead of taking the company-provided bus) between the two cities, because I knew I could use the opportunity to visit Great Smoky Mountain NP for the first time. It was an EXTREMELY overcast day – really put the “Smoky” in Great Smoky Mountain NP – and you couldn’t really see too far at the roadside vistas. So I kept driving up and up through the mountains on the road that goes from one side of the park to the other. At the highest point on the road, I pulled over at Newfound Gap (the North Carolina/Tennessee border) and walked around for a bit.

At the edge of the parking lot, near the side of the trail down to the privy (restroom), was this sign:

and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I stood at that spot for a long time, just thinking, and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I belonged down that path… that maybe this path would give me the opportunity to figure out what kind of life I want to lead, because I was no longer sure I wanted to keep the status quo. I’ve since visited and/or hiked other sections of the AT in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecticut, and New York. The seed having been planted, I spent the next few weeks researching what it would take to hike the entire length of the trail, and, knowing almost nothing about long-distance backpacking, I learned A LOT about this thing called thru-hiking.

Over the summer, I thru-hiked the ~170 mile Tahoe Rim Trail as a “shakedown” hike for my gear and to suss out if hiking and backpacking is something I am really passionate about. My successful completion of that trail, in 9 days of hiking (and two zero days in South Lake Tahoe) is one of my proudest accomplishments of the year. And especially so the last day, when my hiking partners John, Kevin, and I pushed a 30 mile day up and over the highest point on the trail – Relay Peak, at about 10,500 feet. I pushed myself up to and past the point of exhaustion that day, probably because of the 3,000 foot relentless climb leading up to Relay, but we did it, and ate our weight in In N Out late that night.

So I’m excited to say that all plans are in place my 2020 NOBO (northbound) thru-hike attempt on the Appalachian Trail. I’ll be flying from Denver to Boston to see friends and say goodbye on February 26th, then from Boston to Atlanta on the 28th to start the Approach Trail at Amicalola Falls State Park on the morning of February 29th, 2020. I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to make a special FB page or Instagram for the hike, at the very least, I’ll post major milestones on my personal FB and this blog. I am SO EXCITED to start the trail, and I cannot wait to experience the growth and challenges that I believe it’ll bring.

To wrap it up, I have utterly no idea what my life ahead holds for me, and that is so thrilling and freeing. I’m very thankful for the savings from four years of touring that have enabled me to live this way. All I know is that I will be 60 miles north of Atlanta, ready to try to hike 2,000+ miles to Maine, in about two month’s time. I have no idea if I’ll return to touring after that. I’m in the process of self-studying to get back into front-end web development (something I’d let go of in college) and would love to study for my EMT certification after the trail, with the goal of working with an outdoor agency and to help people.

Some additional highlights of 2019:

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Mt. Elbert (14,433′) is the highest point in Colorado, the highest point in the Rocky Mountains, and the 2nd highest point (after Mt. Whitney in California) in the lower 48. Yesterday was a GORGEOUS day in the Sawatch Range – low 30’s at altitude, low wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I left the house just before 6am (problem #1) and drove the two hours to the Elbert South Trailhead. It’s important to know that Colorado recently got its first snow in a few weeks, and the mountain got about 10″ of snow, with the storm wrapping up on Friday.

I hiked up the East Ridge route which is a LONG day when starting from the lower, plowed 2WD trailhead: 14 miles round-trip with 4,900′ of elevation gain. This was my first hike using my new MSR Revo snowshoes, and thank god I had them, because I was the first person up the mountain after the snow fall, and I broke trail from the 2WD trailhead all the way up to the windswept ridge (problem #2).

Early in the day, I started hiking with Michael, who would have bagged his 49th 14er that day. I was really happy to have picked up a hiking partner because our conversations helped break up the long day.

Conditions

As I mentioned above, we had to break trail in the fresh powder from the very beginning to about 5 miles in, when we gained the ridge, which was largely wind swept. Having never been the first one on a mountain after a fresh snow, this was a new experience for me and it is EXHAUSTING. Below tree line, we could follow the faint outline of the summer trail about 75% of the time. But above tree line, we completely lost the trail and had to route find a way up, off of the slopes, and onto the ridge. It was a ton of work to get to a point where the rock was exposed enough for me to stash my snow shoes, and my legs were just dead.

What Went Wrong

With a 7 mile one-way hike up, Michael and I set a loose turnaround time of 2pm and a hard limit of 2:30pm. Our goal was just to get below tree line before dark, because our boot pack was well defined below that and we both had head lamps.

At about 1:30pm, Michael was about 1,000′ below the summit and I was a little lower than him. We made the decision to turn around at that point because neither of us thought (I personally was highly doubtful that I could, but I believed he could have) that we could cover 1,000′ of climbing in an hour when we were already dragging it in from the slog to escape the snow. I’m definitely bummed that we didn’t make it up – and have to do that long ass hike again someday! – but ultimately, when the descent itself was exhausting and took almost three hours, we made the right decision. So what went wrong?

#1 – I left the house and started the trail too late. My alarm went off at 5am, but after getting dressed, having a quick breakfast, and stopping for coffee, I didn’t actually get on the highway till 6am – which meant starting down the trail at 8am. I should have pushed everything back at least one hour, or considered sleeping in my car at the trailhead again. That extra hour probably would have been enough to summit.

#2 – Underestimating what it means to hike immediately after a storm. I sort of assumed that, since I was getting a later start, that at least one other person would have started before me (and have done the hard work of breaking trail). The first half of the trail is pretty easy and gradual switchbacks – but once above tree line, as I wrote above, we lost the summer trail and had to route find, occasionally through some deep snow, our way up the peak. I think this route finding probably contributed a lot to my inability to push the pace and gain altitude quickly as the time ticked by.

I probably won’t attempt this hike again until the summer – but I’ll be back, Mt. Elbert!

My 2nd 14er is in the bag! I’ve been checking the weather forecasts for a nice, clear day with minimal wind, and this morning was PERFECT. The sustained wind was forecasted not to exceed 20mph and I didn’t notice any significant gusts.

Trail and Conditions

I took the West Slopes route up Bierstadt, starting from the actual Guanella Pass Trailhead while the road was still open (planned to close on 12/2.) This trail involved 2,576′ of ascent and 7.2mi roundtrip hiking.

I slept in the car overnight at the trailhead (it was so windy at night I could feel the suspension rocking under me!) and started off at about 7:20am. I meant to start earlier, but I had a hard time willing myself to open up the door and face the cold. Luckily, there was an established boot pack all the way from the trailhead to the bottom of the final summit pitch. Traction for the hard packed ice and snow was immensely helpful. Some potions of the trail were completely cleared or half-cleared of snow.

Gear

Nothing significant with respect to gear has changed since my two Quandary Peak hikes – doubled socks and gloves continue to be vital. This time, I wore my Prana Stretch Zion pants over my Patagonia Capilene Midweight Bottoms and under my Mountain Hadwear Insulated Snow Pants INSTEAD of the MH Fleece Bottoms and it seemed to work well. I might continue to wear the Stretch Zions instead of the MH Fleece Bottoms going forward as it seems to regulate temperature better… and avoid chafing early in the hike.

Small Victories

1 – I DIDN’T GET A DEBILITATING CASE OF ALTITUDE SICKNESS AFTER DESCENDING!

2 – I’m slowly getting better at “grinding it out” on the continuous, long, steep, uphill stretches. I think this is a combination of better acclimatization and improving physical condition.