Mt. Yale, July 25, 2006

Collegiate Wilderness, Colorado
Elevation: 14196 feet (thus, one of Colorado's 14'ers)

We wake in darkness. Since the accident, it's only the third day that I can get dressed by myself and I don the clothes I've left out on the rocking chair. Nick helps me tie my shoes. We drop Nancy off at her car, see her harness in her dogs, and say goodbye. By 6:02 am we are driving to the Collegiates.

Through Wilkerson Pass Meg reminds us that her granddad and his boy scout troops helped plant many of the pines that line highway 24. It is all so beautifu; green pines, red rocks. We drive through the town of Buena Vista and I am reminded of the 1997 trip we made with Crosson to climb Mt. Huron. We reach the Denny Creek trailhead around 7:15 and push off onto the trail soon after. Meg and Nick carry my jacketand sandwich--I carry water and some snacks tied around my waist.

We are rewarded with wildflowers: elephant heads along the stream, columbine, singing bells, arnica, cinquifoil, larkspur, penstemons--and higher up succulents, and the very aromatic purple flower I think is a Polemonium species. The trail is steep but well trodden and opens us up to the glorious expanse of views that Colorado 14'ers do. Lingering snow patches and cirques add to the beauty of the craggy peaks far far in the distance. We climb in cool temps and a cloud cover that both breaks into sun and begins to billow when we crest to the saddle at 13,916.

Marmots, pikas, and mountain blue birds have guided us to this point. I am thrilled to be here, but a bit frustrated as I remain at the saddle, sunning and writing, as Meg and Nick take the final 200 or so feet scramble to the summit. While I may have been able to negotiate the climb with one hand up the boulder field, the descent would be slow and difficult. With clouds billowing and gathering, and the always present possibility of lightning, I stayed back.

While writing and sitting with my jacket over my knees I hear two interesting sounds. One is a loud and large POP in my lap. The altitude has popped open my goggle defogging cream that lives in this ski jacket pocket. I laugh. The other sound is the distance roar of rain.

Meg and Nick return shortly, never having found the summit registry, but mentioned that they would have logged my name in with theirs. We move along the saddle to enjoy lunch. Then we see a bolt of lightning in the distance, pack up it, and head down the mountain. The rains come, smell delicious, and then, by the time we hit the tree line, go. We enjoyed the descent with some great conversations. Dinner in Buena Vista my treat for the newlyweds.