Climbing a 14,000 footer in Colorado

By Tony Thoman

We certainly have our own crop of extreme athletes in the club. Dennis likes to run up Bear Mountain for fun, and Firdaus is not happy unless he runs in races of at least 50 miles in length. Not to denigrate the valiant efforts of Dennis, Firdaus, and others, but a trip to Colorado certainly demonstrated that there is a level of extreme sports mania we couldn’t conceive of in the saner climes of New York.

Last week, my brother Eric, who lives in Denver, convinced me to go on a small hike with him in the Rockies. He is on a Fred-like crusade to bag all the 56 (or something like that) peaks in Colorado over 14,000 feet. He is at peak #40 or so now. I was a bit leery at first, thinking back on my efforts to climb Longs Peak with Dewey a few years ago. Aside from having to abandon a half comatose Dewey at 12,000 feet to reach a peak that was nothing more than swirling clouds and thunder, I wasn’t sure how bagging a second 14,000 footer was going to redeem that experience.

Well, I did my valiant best. After my brother left our group to bag a more challenging mountain a few miles further off, a bunch of us made the effort to tackle Mount Humboldt at a hair over 14,000 feet. Again, it was excruciating. The sun was ruthless, the air so thin, I had to pause every five seconds to catch my breath. By 13,000 feet, I had to concentrate extra hard to plot each footstep on the ledgy precipice. The view was great, but a pounding headache made it hard to fully appreciate the grandeur. It took us all day to hike the seven miles to the top and back, but we did make it in the end. By the time I made it to the bottom, I felt like I had run a full marathon.

To get back to my story …. The next day, at 6 AM, as I was starting to boil water for some coffee at our campsite, I observed a crew of runners passing by on the trail. Hmmm… One hour later, looking up at my beloved peak, I could see a group of runners weaving the switchbacks up the mountain. No way could anyone actually run these paths. Aside from the heightened elevation and tricky footing, it simply was not possible. Hey, come on, I have run the swamps of Mudders and Grunters, the sandpits of Leatherman’s, and the mountains of Soapstone … how could anything top those experiences?

To confirm that indeed that the light was not playing tricks on our eyes, we found the runners coming our way again an hour later. The runners were barreling down the rock strewn path at full tilt, and seemed annoyed that we would trouble them with a stupid question, but yes, they did bag Humboldt, in less than two hours, and barely out of breath! I wasn’t about to ask them if they had a headache, or twisted an ankle at the boulder field half way up the mountain.

I can’t tell you how happy I am to be back among sane people again! Dennis, go ahead and run to the top of Whiteface, and I won’t laugh at you when you decide that you have to bike to the top as well to put icing on the cake. And Firdaus, when you decide to do the 200 mile race in Nepal, I won’t call you crazy behind your back!

 

Tony Thoman, July, 2002