Hike or Flight

Hike or Flight

By Jonathan Barnes

     Capturing the essence of a wilderness adventure with phonetic lettering doesn't necessarily capture

the magnificence and beauty of the true experience first-hand. A deep connection occurs when it's 

you and nature. Small problems seems to fade as well as the stress of society. The moment that exists 

in the wild is the only moment that exists in that time. It doesn't matter if it was the year 1880 or 

2080.  The human spirit and its forebearance will be the same on the mountain.

    On April 4^th, 2015, Andrea, myself, and our friend Alisa planned an ambitious hike up Humboldt

Peak in the Sangre de Cristos range, 100 miles S/SW from Colorado Springs, CO. Sometimes it's

difficult to have the foresight of what a 14er (mountain exceeding 14,000 ft above sea level) will truly

be like, but I suppose adventure isn't always knowing as much it is doing. We studied topographical

maps, different routes, and “planned” the best we could. The east route of Humboldt Peak is the

declared winter route. Oddly enough, this route does not have an established trail, so bushwacking

is inevitable until breaching above timberline. A 13 mile hike on a trail doesn't sound too bad;

however, a 13 miles hike without a trail is another story.

    We arrived at the parking lot. It was 0730 with a cool, dry air and a warm, golden sun illuminating

the sky with brilliant oranges and pinks giving the Sangre de Cristos a dark shade of purple. There

must be something about the stillness and rugged power of mountains that soothes the souls of the

struggling and carefree alike. When observing mountains, you don't just see them, you feel them., and

they become part of you.

     The three of us got out of the Xterra, stretched our legs, voided our bladders, and began collecting

and organizing our gear. We started to don our gear and start the beginning of a very long day. We

followed the four-wheel drive road for 2.5 miles and exited on the Rainbow Trail, which is another

mile-long hike before the inception of our bushwacking experience. On the heavily forested, 

undefined trail we noticed many sections that had cairns to signify that we were heading in the right 

direction.

    After awhile, the cairns became very sparse, so at this point trail navigation was critical.

This section was extremely steep and taxing on the legs which made me think, “Am I going to have

the endurance to make the summit?” Sometimes it's very difficult to get over these provoking

questions manifested from fear and intimidation.

   It's tough to stop when you're in the rhythm of hiking, but it's critical to take breaks to hydrate and eat to maintain strength. I had two liters of electrolytic water which I believe helps significantly

throughout the course of the day; however, I ran out of food pretty quick. When you're expending a

vast amount of energy and burning more calories than consuming, fatigue sets in like a raging storm

and it will beat you down before you have a chance to get back up.

    We successfully made it above treeline after a few hours of crawling up steep terrain and bush-

wacking. “What's this?” I asked myself. It was a vast snowfield leading up to a false summit. The

false summit looked so high and far away. “If this was the false summit, what could we expect at the

true summit?” Andrea, Alisa, and I strapped on our microspikes, donned the gore-tex jackets, and

started up the snowfield. Using a measurement tool on my compass, it appeared to be about a 35

degree angle. The thing with hiking up these snow packed areas is trying to prevent falling and 

sliding. An out of control glisade can almost likely result in death. The slow climb upward, while fighting against the monstrous wind was exhausting. Each step felt like there were cinder blocks strapped to my feet. “Keep going” I told myself. “You can do this... You can't do this... You can do 

this... You can't do this.” The constant battle in my head was nonstop. The mental battle was harder 

than the physical. Every climb teaches us something new about ourselves, our courage, strength, 

emotions,and will power. “Was this the day I would fail myself or believe in myself?”

The consistency of our steps had brought us to the top of the false summit, a grassy patch of high

altitude earth. We stood in awe of the true summit which looked like the spine of a giant, stone dragon.

    The three of us started up this primitive mass of rock. The exposure was becoming a real factor.

The ridge became narrower and narrower. To the left, a steep grade hill with rocks and snow. To the

right, a vertical drop at least 500-600 feet. Either way, you're dead if you fall. Unfortunately, the wind

was blowing us toward the sheer cliff to the right. “What a coincidence..” I thought. The negative

thoughts began infiltrating my mind like trojan horse. The seeds of fear began to grow causing 

anxiety and eventually an overwhelming sensation of bad emotions and paralysis. “I've done this 

stuff so many times before? What's wrong with me? Why am I being smashed by this fear?” I told 

Andrea my thoughts and concern with the exposure and wind. She wasn't about to let me give up. 

She told me,“You have the strength, endurance and skills to do this. You're letting your mind make 

you doubt your abilities.” After this encouragement and brief episode of anxiety, we looked upward 

and said, “We're standing on top of this mountain and it's not going to stop.” Fear is what causes 

failure. It takes courage and resilience to push past our fear and anxiety. I took it and owned it. I 

shouted to myself, “Come on. Do this. Fucking come on. Get the fuck up and climb this god damn 

mountain.”

    After quite a bit of rock scrambling we slowly but surely summited Humboldt Peak. A relief of

emotional battles and physical pain even though this was only the halfway mark. We shot photos of

ourselves with the majestic Crestone Peak in the background. An epic and picturesque setting, no

doubt. Although there's a sense of relief upon summiting any mountain, often we try to forget that we

have to down climb. There's always odd decisions that have to be made and often tricky. We asked

each other, “Should we wear microspikes on this exposed, rocky area with icy spots when we down

climb, or not use them?” It was a tough decision because you want traction on rock and ice.

Unfortunately, microspikes are pretty terrible on rocks, so we decided to not wear them. It was a 

sound decision.

  The down climb went by pretty quick which was a good thing. But, the high temperature throughout

the day made the snow much softer, thus causing more postholing and sinking. It seemed at first that

we were making good time, since we were hastily hiking down the snowfield. Once we reached

treeline it started to get a little confusing. It was hard to follow our old tracks, so we attempted to

follow the tracks of the two climbers we met near the summit. “Surely they made it down.” I thought.

“Where's the god damned tracks?” We started hiking down a extremely steep area right below the

ridge. The snow was deep and soft. A terrible situation to be in, since the most avalanches that occur

in the Sangre de Cristos are below treeline. I started seeing little slabs slide by me. I shouted out,

“We need to get the hell off of this slope.” As I said this, I started noticing a lot of trees around me

bent over and broken. The result of past avalanches. Luckily, we made it to a flat area after that

treacherous excursion. “Oh look, a cairn!” We found a cairn and proclaimed that we had found the

right way. After hours of continuous bushwacking, the Rainbow Trail made its appearance once

again. A sigh of relief. The feeling of being lost in a thick forest can make your stomach turn.

Especially when it's dusk.

   We hastily hiked down the four-wheel drive trail, the longest fucking 2.5 miles one could

ever experience. As we hiked down this last stretch of the downhill terrain, we noticed a

weird phenomena. There was a red, orange glow in the adjacent range in front of us. It became

brighter and brighter as we hiked downward. It was the new moon of Easter. The moon slowly

ascended above the black silhouettes of the distant range like a slow motion volcano erupting.

This felt like quite the grand finale of this adventure. Earlier that morning, the moon was dark with a

sliver of light reflection and that night, a new moon, a rebirth, a resurrection.

Whether you're Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, or Atheist, in the range of Sangre de Cristos

(Blood of Christ), the orange, red moon that resurrected itself above the remote, vast, Colorado 

terrain on the night of Easter is something that can be remembered for a lifetime. It was brilliant.

    We packed up the Xterra and began our two hour drive home. It's not too much fun when it's dark

and also being tired and hungry, but we made it. 13 miles on an undefined trail, bushwacking,

navigating, and summiting Humboldt Peak. The most difficult and beautiful 14er I have achieved and

earned.

“I came to win, came as I always do, in order to justify who I am and what I have become; now I don't even know what that is. The rot inside me, the cancer of desire, feels unbearable, now it knows it won't be sated. There's a malignant discontent in there, and without a climb there will be no peace. When - if - I pass over to normal life I know I will drag this feeling with me.”
― Andy Kirkpatrick, Psychovertical