Pike's Peak

It's all Reynold's fault.

The idea was simple enough -- we'd take the "Devil's Playground" trail up the back side of Pike's Peak. It's a significantly shorter hike than the Barr Trail, and Reynold assured Desmond and me that it was well within our hiking capabilities. He send us directions, maps, and photos -- to make sure we had everything we needed for a successful hike.

But he didn't come along with us. And that was the problem.

Desmond and I met at the Ridge at 3am. The drive to the small town of Divide was smooth and uneventful. But then I missed a turn and drove an extra 8 or 9 miles before I discovered the mistake.

There was no problem with the instructions. I just didn't follow them very well. I won't bore you with the details, but after a couple more U-turns, we finally arrived at the trailhead. Because of my faulty navigation, we were starting a bit later than we had hoped. The sun was already starting to come up.

About a half mile down the trail, we saw this sign.

In the dim pre-dawn light, neither of us saw the faded arrows designating the two separate trails. We both saw the words "Devil's Playground" on a sign that was on the path we were hiking, and assumed that it meant we were heading the correct direction. Closer examination of the sign (or even a momentary use of our recently-extinguished headlamps) would have told us to take a sharp right -- as would a careful reading of our printed instructions. And if Reynold had been there, he could have prevented our mistake, as well. But he wasn't there -- so the fact that we proceeded toward The Crags is completely and utterly his fault.

The good news is that it was a lovely trail, with some cool rocks to look at.



But we didn't seem to be heading toward Pike's Peak.

After a while Desmond pointed this out, but I was expecting to see Pike's as soon as we hit the top of the next hill, so I insisted we keep going. But no...while that hilltop did have a nice view, it did NOT provide any assurance that we were on the right trail. No 14ers in sight.

About that time, a lone runner who had passed us earlier came running back down the trail. He paused to inform us that he had realized this wasn't the Pike's Peak trail, and was heading back to find the correct path. We turned around to follow him. By the time we reached the sign again, it was light enough to see the arrows. Finally we were off toward the summit!

We had taken a 4-mile detour, but were still feeling good. After a long gradual ascent within the woods, we finally popped out into the open.



We saw some fungus.



Some wildlife (hover your mouse on the picture to highlight the sunbathing marmot.)



And some impressive landscape.



There were wide open spaces, cool rocks, and plenty of other hikers.











Finally, we came to the point where you could see off the other side of the mountain. It wasn't the top yet, but you could at least stand on a precipice and get a feel for the vastness of the land below. Desmond was kind enough to hold my trekking poles while I took the photo...and then clipped them onto his pack so that I could use my hands to climb across the field of humongous boulders. (By the way, the trekking poles were a great help in ascending some of the steeper sections...but were absolutely indispensable on the way back down. The SLR camera might've been a problem if I didn't have a belly strap for it, but I was able to cinch it up tight across the front of my body.)



For some reason, there were a zillion birds circling around the rock fields. I was getting pretty ragged at that point, so at first I thought they might be vultures anticipating my imminent demise...but they weren't. Ravens, maybe? (Click on the photo to see them in more detail.)



The rock field was challenging enough going up, but I wasn't at all sure my knees (and balance) would provide the stability I'd need to go back down that way.



We made it to the summit! But the sky was getting darker, so we didn't stay long.



I whined enough about my knees that Desmond agreed to take the wimpy route (the road) back down. It may have added an extra mile to our trip, but I'm certain we got down quicker than we would have if I'd have been forced to scramble over the rock field again.

On the way, we saw the cog train coming up.



We reconnected with the hiking trail a few switchbacks later and followed its rolling course back to Devil's Playground. That put us at about 14 miles...which would've been our total round trip distance if we hadn't taken the Crags detour. As it was, the worst was yet to come. From Devil's Playground, it's about a mile to where the hardest part of the trek begins.

Desmond may be older than me, but he sure didn't act like it. He was as quick and surefooted at this point as he had been from the start. I was struggling to descend the steep rocky sections, leaning on my poles and relying on arms more than legs. But he just walked down as if he was doing another of his famous workouts on the steps at Red Rocks. No problem. I really appreciated his patience as he waited for me to work my way through the tough stuff. I slipped a few times and fell pretty hard once, but I never saw him get the least bit wobbly.

I tried to push my pace, knowing that the afternoon storms were rolling in. I desperately wanted to reach timberline before the lightning started. We had been hydrating and snacking on PowerBars throughout the day, but we never took any long breaks as we tried to shed altitude.

Finally we were back in the trees. I started to try to estimate how much further we had to go, and how much longer it would take us. I calculated that there was still a chance we'd outrun the storms.

Or not. With more than 2 miles to go, the thunder started and the rain began to pour. Almost immediately, the raindrops turned to hailstones and began to pelt us as we walked. We paused briefly to put on jackets and protect the camera, and then trucked onward through the storm. We debated seeking shelter, but decided that as long as the hailstones stayed small, we'd just keep going.

The path turned into a stream, and we were soon soaking wet from head to toe. Fortunately, the temperature remained tolerable. The thunder and lightning were a little scary, but vastly entertaining at the same time. As long as I didn't feel any electrical tingling, I was happy to listen to the booming rumbles throughout the rest of the hike.

We eventually outwalked the weather. The storm never reached down to the trailhead, so the parking lot was still dry. We loaded back into the car, shed our wet shoes, and congratulated ourselves on surviving the hike. Here's a graphical summary of our journey:



We stopped in Woodland Park for some satisfying Mexican food, and were still home before the sun set. Even with the detour, my creakiness on the downhills, and a mild run-in with Mother Nature, I'd have to say it was an altogether grand day in the mountains. It is such a great privilege to live in Colorado, and to have such good friends who invite me on adventures; I am truly a lucky person. I may whine about how my hamstrings are a little sore (totally Reynold's fault), but the bottom line is that life is good, and I'm having a lot of fun.

What's next, then? Well, I'm driving a race car on Friday, doing a track workout tonight, and coaching swim practice tomorrow morning. I might even try to get out on the bike again before the weekend. The fun times continue, as always. Thanks for dropping by, and have a great day!