Reflections on hiking Pikes Peak

Before I climbed Pikes Peak, everyone I knew who had already accomplished this task told me I would never look at the mountain the same again.

And it's so true. I can see the Peak from the street outside my house and when I'm fully present to looking at it, all I can think right now is: "I climbed you!"

I know what it's like to wake up really early, see the sunrise from near your base, and steadily trudge along your trails.

I know what it's like to eat lunch at 9am (second breakfast, really) at your half-way mark of Barr Camp, watch birds land in my friend's palm to grab granola bites, and feed chipmunks peanuts from my trail mix. And I know what it's like to be so, so happy to see a box of help-yourself Nilla Wafers ... and a toilet.

I know what it's like, around your nine-mile-point, to ask my hiking companion to tell me a story because my legs (and my mind) are starting to give out.

I know what it's like to have her tell me in your last two miles that we were in the "no-sit zone." I could pause among your rocks as much as I wanted to breathe or drink water, but sitting was not allowed.

I know what it's like to want to throw up for those same two miles — thanks to altitude sickness, the longest miles of my hiking life so far.

And I know what it's like to reach the top, almost 14 miles from our starting point, to see tourists milling around who'd either driven up or taken the Pikes Peak Cog Railway, and think, "Could everyone please be quiet? I just hiked this effing 14er."

Two weeks have passed since that day. Between then and now I travelled back home to attend my grandfather's funeral and, on return, tried to get back into the swing of daily life.

But something inside of me has changed. It's going to take more processing of the experience to be able to put words to it, but I can feel it.

I climbed a mountain. And it feels good.

Forty and a quarter (plus a few days)

[dropcap custom_class="normal"]I[/dropcap]t's been a long month. I've accomplished a ton, but I'm behind on the blogging of it because of my trip home for my grandfather's funeral. So what you're getting here is the down and dirty of my #40before41 updates ... individual posts on some of these experiences are yet to come.

Still featuring the three sections: Done, In Progress, and Ahead of Me Still. Notes intermingled.

• 40 Before 41 • 

Done!

• Develop a new website for my blog — Do you like? • Have a tarot reading done — A friend read the cards for me on my birthday. They indicated a lot of challenge over the next year, but lots of potential success too. She's offered to read my cards again on Oct. 23 for my half birthday. I've been contemplating investing in my own cards. I'm quite taken by these. • Find more opportunities to dance — Still tap dancing weekly at Ormao, and making new friends through it, which I wasn't expecting. Also line dancing every Sunday. • Visit a hot springs in Colorado — I visited Mount Princeton Hot Springs in Buena Vista, Colorado, with my dear friend Jessica. It rained as we sat in the pools and it was a lovely, sensory experience. • See my byline in a national magazine — Woot! This happened this past weekend. I've got a story in the Sept./Oct. 2014 issue of Spirituality & Health magazine. Look for it on newsstands now. • Climb Pikes Peak — My #CouchTo14er is complete. This was the biggie on my list, and I will be blogging about it soon. • Take a trip with a girlfriend — Not only did Amber climb Pikes Peak with me, but she and I travelled to Breckenridge for a training hike weekend, which was loads of fun. I am still hoping to take at least one more trip with a girlfriend who I don't see regularly. • Skinny dip — Ahem. Done. And I have photos to prove it. Whether or not YOU will get to them remains to be seen. Lol. Blog to come.

In Progress

• Yoga and meditation, daily — Up and down with this. Getting to the mat each day is a real practice. I'm participating in The New Intimacy online course with the amazing Mark Whitwell over the next four weeks and am looking forward to that process. • Blog at least twice a week — I think I'm averaging twice a month, which is much less than I'd hoped. I'm looking for a blog project to join to help me along. • Read at least 52 books — Still ahead of schedule. Nineteen books down, six in progress. I finally finished A Game of Thrones, but, dang, was it slow going (to be expected, I suppose, at 800-plus pages). • Send a snail mail letter/card/postcard/gift once a month — On track. • Plant and grow something edible outside — One tomato plant, chard, basil, baby lettuce and mint in the pots. Regularly using the mint and basil. And my tomato has three little tomatoes on it! • Journal at least weekly — Still working on this. • Invest in a week’s worth of matching bras and panties (foundations matter!) — Five new sets purchased. Lots of lace. • Intentionally play music in the house every day — This has been awesome actually. Somehow it makes the house feel more like a home. • Participate in a stage show (play, musical, etc.) as cast or crew — No callback from my audition for me, so it's time to do more research for new options. • Play paintball — Recruiting friends to join in because this seems like it would be more fun with a group. • Continue to reduce my wardrobe, a la Project 333 — It's amazing, really, how much easier it gets each time. • Facilitate and participate in at least one improv writing session a month — Summer schedules and sickness got in the way this month. Hoping to get back on track in September. • Build a terrarium — Haven't built a full terrarium, but I do now have a mini hanging terrarium with rocks and an air plant. • Learn to bake French macarons — Looking for classes, have one potential option. • Plan my next trip to France — I've been chit-chatting and plotting and planning with my British friend Tamsin, owner of the Little French Retreat, about this ... • Show up (my 2014 “one-word” soul mantra) •

Ahead of Me Still

• Have at least one item of clothing tailored to fit • Visit Ojo Caliente • Take French language lessons • Make new connections with at least three bloggers I respect  • Attend the Santa Fe Opera — Unfortunately, I didn't jump on this, and it looks like I won't be able to attend until next summer, after my birthday. Kinda sad about that, but perhaps if I ask for tickets FOR my birthday that will count? • Take classes on how to use all the buttons on my DSLR • Figure out my signature style • Learn to make ginger beer • Find the perfect red lipstick (and wear it) • Add a piece of original art to my collection • Give generously what I want to receive • Stay up once all night until sunrise • Perform at a poetry slam/open mic • Get will and living will in order • Get make-up tips from a pro • Take performance driving lessons •

Have you set any new goals lately? Share them with me!

Life journeys

[dropcap custom_class="normal"]F[/dropcap]riday night my grandfather died. He was 92, and his passing was not unexpected, but every death takes its toll.

As I was searching around on the Interwebs yesterday morning for some solace, I found this quite amazing poem by Billy Collins, called "The Afterlife." It reminds me of my favorite part in the book The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold, where "heaven" is each person's "simplest dreams." (And heaven changes and adapts as time passes.) I've always thought it was a beautiful idea.

Before heading home to be with my family, I will climb Pikes Peak tomorrow — the culmination of one small journey of my own. And I'll hike with Collins' words and my grandfather's legacy in mind.

While you are preparing for sleep, brushing your teeth, or riffling through a magazine in bed, the dead of the day are setting out on their journey.

They're moving off in all imaginable directions, each according to his own private belief, and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal: that everyone is right, as it turns out. You go to the place you always thought you would go, the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.

Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors into a zone of light, white as a January sun. Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.

Some have already joined the celestial choir and are singing as if they have been doing this forever, while the less inventive find themselves stuck in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.

Some are approaching the apartment of the female God, a woman in her forties with short wiry hair and glasses hanging from her neck by a string. With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.

There are those who are squeezing into the bodies of animals — eagles and leopards — and one trying on the skin of a monkey like a tight suit, ready to begin another life in a more simple key,

while others float off into some benign vagueness, little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.

There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves. He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.

The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins wishing they could return so they could learn Italian or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain. They wish they could wake in the morning like you and stand at a window examining the winter trees, every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow.

Four days until Peak day

Like many of you I'm sure, I've been overwhelmed these past few weeks with the news, both internationally and stateside. I've been trying to figure out how to discuss all of it here and, when I couldn't come up with anything, just avoided writing altogether.

Great skill that avoidance is, right?

So while I'm finally done avoiding my blog, I'm still not going to address the emotions and social unrest of recent weeks in any involved way, at least not right now while I continue to process, but I do want to say I really appreciated Brené Brown's related post today on choosing courage. And I'd like to offer up her words for thought.

That said, amid everything else, I have been plugging along on my #CouchTo14er journey. And it's hard to believe but I've got just four days until I climb Pikes Peak.

Since I last wrote on this topic, I've hiked numerous shorties, a handful of six-milers, including a high-altitude trek to Mohawk Lakes in Breckenridge, and the Falcon Trail, a 14-miler on the Air Force Academy property.

And here are a few things I've learned along the way:

1) Eye drops for long hikes, or good wraparound sunglasses, should be added to the must-have list.

2) Trekking poles rock. Seriously. They've helped my knees immensely, and they've given me a little extra confidence. I only use one, but it's like having a super sturdy third leg.

3) Bird feathers keep popping up during my treks. And I discovered the coolest website, the Feather Atlas, hosted by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which helps folks like me and you identify found feathers.

4) Fourteen miles by yourself is a long distance. Many of you read my thoughts on possibly hiking the Peak alone. I decided not to do that, and after hiking the Falcon Trail alone, I'm glad. My friend Amber, who has hiked it about a dozen times (and competed in the Pikes Peak Ascent), will join me.

And last, but in no way least, I'm still iffy on how I feel about hiking in general — at least long-distance hiking. I haven't found a love for it, but I have come to appreciate its yogic and meditative potential. When the Falcon Trail got tough, I had no choice but to keep going. I couldn't just ring up a friend and ask her to come get me. I had to hike the whole thing back to my car. So what did I do? I focused on being present with each individual step. I stopped worrying about how long it was going to take, and how fast or slow I was moving. I breathed. In. Step. Out. Step. In. Step. Out. Step.

And I started chanting. So hum. Four miles of so hum. I am, all that is.

By the time I finished (about five hours total), my body really, really hurt. I was physically and emotionally drained. But I was also calm. Clear that I could make it to the top of Pikes Peak. Also clear that I may never hike that distance again, post-Peak.

And perfectly OK with all of it.

Dear Hiking Bob

Last weekend for #couchto14er training, I hiked the Catamount Trail, a six-mile out-and-back (more appropriately an up-and-down, I suppose) in Green Mountain Falls (a small town west of Colorado Springs), with my dear friend Carrie. I think it was the longest I've ever hiked at one time so far, with an elevation gain of almost 1,900 feet, and it took us about three hours total.

While we trekked along, we came up with a list of random hiking-related questions, and I knew exactly who to go to for answers: Hiking Bob.

Avid outdoorsman Bob Falcone (@hikingbob on Twitter) is a bit of a local celebrity — he's also known as @bobfireman and has been quite helpful over the past "summers of flames" to the community. You can learn more about him at hikingbob.com, or follow his new outdoors blog on the Colorado Springs Independent website here.

Hiking Bob generously agreed to answer all of my questions. Some of the answers will be helpful as I plod along on my #couchto14er journey, and one in particular (as you'll see) will be helpful to accomplishing my #40before41 list. So without further ado...

Dear Hiking Bob:

1. Trekking poles. Yes? No? If yes, single pole or a pair? Advantages? Disadvantages?

I rarely go without one.  I usually use just one, mostly for stability. It helps with hopping down from rocks, or on slippery/icy terrain. It also gives me something to poke around with, especially if I think a rattlesnake is nearby.  :) If you're going backpacking and carrying a heavy pack, then use two, since they help to take the load off your torso and feet.

2. I spend most of my time looking at my feet, and I feel like I tend to miss the scenery around me. Is this common? If so, how do I see more beyond my feet, and if not, how do I personally get more comfortable with looking up?

Not uncommon and it happens with me, too. Watching your feet isn't bad, since it keeps you from tripping over something and doing a face-plant. I usually just stop every once in a while and look around. If I know the trail well, or can see that it's nice and clear and has no trip hazards, then I keep my head up and see more of the scenery. When I'm on a new trail I tend to stop and look around (or at least slow down and look around) since it's new and I don't want to miss anything.

3. How much water do you recommend carrying?

Most often, I carry a 100oz (approx. 3 liter) hydration pack. I usually don't need a lot of water when I'm on a trail, so I rarely ever go through all of it, even on a long hike. I also have a small 70oz pack for shorter hikes (like the Incline) or when cycling. The larger pack is big enough to carry a number of extras. Mine typically contains at least my personal locator beacon, first aid kit, poncho, water filter, snacks, and a map. For really short, easy hikes, OR hikes where I'll be consistently near water, I carry a CamelbakAll-Clear bottle. It has a UV light in the cap that allows me to take water right from a stream and the UV light purifies the water. On really long hikes, I'll carry the bottle and use it to purify the water and then refill my hydration pack. SO...back to your original question...for most hikers, I usually recommend carrying more water than you think you need until you've done a number of hikes and have gotten an idea of how much water you typically consume. From there you can gauge how much to carry.  A little too much is better than running out.

4. Why do hikers heading up have the right away?

Uphill hikers have the right-of-way because of momentum. If I've got a good head of steam (so to speak) and I'm moving up hill at a good pace, I don't want to stop and and ruin that momentum. Getting that momentum back can be hard and tiring. This is why cars driving uphill have the right of way, too. While the "uphill has the right of way" rule is a good one, many times the uphill hiker will stop to rest and let the downhill hiker have the trail. That's fine, but the uphill hiker makes that call.

5. Should I or shouldn’t I have eaten the wild raspberries Carrie found while hiking the Catamount Trail?

Eating the berries is fine if you NEED to eat something (but you should bring snacks with you).  Otherwise, the wildlife (bears, deer, etc.) depend on the wild fruit to sustain themselves.

6. And last, but certainly not least, oh guru of local trails, any suggestions for hidden spots to skinny dip?

Hmmm... Skinny dipping? I'm not a skinny dipper (never have...yeah, odd...). There are two semi-secluded places that I can think of.  The first is the "punch bowls" in Queens Canyon above the Dorothy Falls.  BUT...that area has been closed since the Waldo fire. It's kind of a crapshoot if you'll have the bowls to yourself. When the area was open, guests at the Navigators would frequently hike up there and swim (I never saw anyone skinny dipping), but on other trips up there I wouldn't see anyone. You may want to keep it in mind for when Queens Canyon finally re-opens. There is another spot that may work, but it'll take some work to get to it (and paying the toll on the Pikes Peak Highway). It's within the first 3 miles of the road from the toll booth, so not at high elevation. Getting there would require a map, and maybe a GPS, even though the hike is barely more than a mile. I'll send you the details, but you might have to keep this one to yourself...

Hey, thanks a bunch, Bob! If you've got questions for him, post below and I'll pass along (or find him at any of his social media sites).