Day 228: Hallelujah

These are my memories (the best I can recall them) from two weekends ago when I attempted my first 14er (14,000ft peak), Longs Peak. Enjoy.


12:01am - It's time to get up. My roommate is at my door, "Good morning!! Rise and Shine!!" I don't want to move. I only just fell asleep 45 minutes ago. I was dreaming about something, my brain is trying to process, but I can't. It's go time. I stand up and put on my clothes. It's simple. Just get dressed and you can do this. All of my clothes are on. I am brushing my teeth with my eyes closed. Bristles against my teeth. My big front teeth. The bathroom light is glaring at me. Spit and rinse. It's time to go. I gather my bag and head downstairs. Everyone is here bustling about. Jean tells me to drink That cup of emergency and water and eat That small bowl of gluten-free oatmeal. I feel like I am going to throw up, but I do what she says. Simone and Scott are talking about things they've packed, going over the checklists again. I am not saying anything. I am eating this oatmeal trying not to throw up. It's too early for my stomach and too early for my brain.

12:28am - We are leaving. It's chilly outside. I put my pack in the car and climb into the back seat. I have been informed that I can't sleep because we need to stay awake now so we won't struggle more on the trail. Everyone is talking about the hike, discussing the details, when we have to be off summit, etc. I am listening and trying not to drift off. It's so early and I am so tired. I tell myself to pull it together and half heartedly join in the conversation. It's dark outside. We are driving down a mountain road now outside Lyons, headed into Rocky Mountain National Park. The road is winding left and right, switchbacking up, up, and up. I can see stars. What am I doing? Why did I think I could do this? These guys all have done 14ers before, am I crazy? What if I can't make it? What if I'm too slow? I rub my eyes with my palms. Stop it brain. Please.

1:30am - We pull into the Park Ranger station and park right in front of the restrooms. For some reason I find this hilarious. I am chuckling to myself. It is freezing outside the car. I hustle into the bathroom for one last quick stop. My stomach is in knots. I am so cold. Back at the car, I pull the insulated Mammut beanie Jean lent me down over my ears. It's soft and fuzzy on my cold ears. I start pulling on the layers. I am wearing Smartwool pink hiking socks, vented North Face capri tights, a purple Dri-fit Nike tank, a long sleeve Brooks lightweight running shirt, a Smartwool half zip, and my wind/water proof Arc'teryx jacket. I also have gloves on my frozen hands. I know I will warm up as soon as we start hiking, but right now I'm so cold. My pack feels heavy and the water in my bladder is cold. This makes me happy, even though I am cold, I prefer my water frigid. It feels refreshing. I have changed out of my sandals and into my hiking boots. They are still somewhat new La Sportiva FC Eco 3.2 GTX's, but I love them. They are the most comfortable hiking boots I have ever worn and they hold my still-healing ankle so well. I stand in the parking lot zoning out and then I hear Jean's voice, "It's time to go." 

Our crew right as we started off the hike:
Simone, Jean, Scott, and me

1:47am - We are on the trail and the trail is winding its way up through the forest. But all I see are the rocks I am stepping over and up on. This is immediately difficult for me. My legs are tired and my body doesn't want to be hiking at almost 2am. I am breathing so heavily I feel like the entire forest and all of its inhabitants can hear me. "Drink water!!" is yelled back to me. I am a good 5ft behind the group. We stop for a minute so the others can shed a few layers. I take off my wind jacket. I eat a cherry fruit leather. I drink some more water. Everything hurts already and I am so tired. Why am I doing this?

2:20am - We are still climbing up. I can hear the forest singing its night time songs to me. Me and the quiet. But it really isn't quiet. There is soft wind, the din of conversation of my group ahead of me, my heavy breaths. There is a lull of silence, then I hear a waterfall. Then seconds later I am walking across a bridge over the waterfall. I shine my head lamp up toward where it is flowing downhill from and then down to where it is going. I have to keep moving, but something about that waterfall tugs at me. All I see ahead of me are the head lamps of my group. No one is behind me. I am alone on this mountain. Soon after the waterfall, I can tell we are heading above tree line. The wind picks up and I feel bare. With the trees around me, I felt unexposed. But now I feel naked to the earth. I keep walking up. It is the only thing I can do. And sometimes you just do things.

3am - I am starting to feel delirious. My brain feels like it is swimming in a sea of mashed potatoes. Why can't I think straight? I tell the group I have to stop to pee. It's my first pee outside on this trip. I find a rock to hide behind. Then I realize that it is still pitch black outside. Why am I hiding? Pants up. Back on the trail. If we stop for too long it gets so cold. Frigidly cold. The wind is beating into my skin. We can't stop for more than a couple minutes. I stop for an extra minute and look out behind me. I can see head lamps all the way down the trail, all the way down the mountain. There are others behind me. It is like white-only christmas lights where half the chain wrapped around the tree has gone out. I can see the city lights off in the distance. The wind is beating my cheeks. I can't stay here forever. But I want to.

3:40am - It is an endless up. There are rock stair-like steps that I am struggling with. I am not good at these, it takes everything from me. Stepping up onto each rock kills my legs. Its not getting better, but I keep hoping suddenly the trail will level off or go downhill. Anything but up anymore. I keep telling myself one foot in front of the other, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Little nagging pains have become full blown aches. My lower back has not stopped spasming for over an hour. My hands, though in gloves, are numb. My shoulders feel like they are being ripped off by my pack. My feet are swelling and feel constricted in my shoes. I know we have much further to go, but when the group asks me how I'm doing I tell them the truth. Everything hurts and I'm not having any fun. I close my eyes for a moment. I know I will think of this as fun later, but right now I am miserable.

4:28am - I have been alone for a while. My group has all either done this trip or hiked other 14ers before, so they are better prepared and more on pace. I am slipping behind. I feel detached. From the group and from myself. My brain is starting to do what it does on long runs. It's starting settle. First you get the emotional roller coaster; 'I miss Virginia and my friends. I am not cut out for this mountain stuff. This is so hard, I am horrible at this. Will I ever get good at hiking at altitude or will I always be a flatlander? I'm so pathetic, it shouldn't hurt this much. I'm being a baby. I want to go home. I want to hug my best friend. I miss Virginia.' Then I accept the aches and pains, but my brain digs further. The inner workings of my mind can be relentless at 4 in the morning, 'This is ridiculous. Who do you think you are doing this hike? You have something to prove? You're not even close to prepared for this. And shit now you are how many hours and miles in and you still will have to go ALL the way back at the end of this. You're an idiot. You know what? You deserve this. You deserve to be climbing up each of these giant rock steps alone in the dark, with wind cutting your face and your nose running all over the place. You deserve that headache. You did this to yourself. Damn it, you are dumb.' I bring my gloved hand up to my lips and silently sign, "quiet" to myself. For a few minutes all I can hear is the wind, tearing past me like a jet engine. Then a voice above and ahead calls out, "Emma? How are you doing?" I lift my head and my head lamp shines out in front of me into nothingness. "I'm good, I'm fine." I reply.

5:15am - There is a stream of some sort running by us, seemingly all over the trail. Maybe its water run off from the mountain. Our group is closer together now. I am half leaping from boulder to boulder, half walking through mushy wet grass and mud. I am trying to avoid the water. My brain is having a hard time placing where we could be. Someone mentions the boulder field. Are we there already? It seems so soon. I thought we would never get here. I am feeling better. I am trying to drink my water consistently, but my headache won't go away. The right side of my brain feels like someone slammed it against concrete for 20minutes. The sun is rising behind us. The sky is a broken pale dark blue. There is a sliver of yellow sunshine pushing through this dark sky. I stand there for a long time, probably too long watching the blue and yellow mix. I am watching the clouds. That is me right now. I am broken pale dark blue with a streak of sunshine trying to break through. More water. We are at the boulder field now and it is time to start scrambling. As if I didn't have any breath before, now I know it will all be gone. I hate that I am struggling so bad.

Sunrise at altitude

The Keyhole pre-sunrise

5:45am - We are almost at the keyhole. Jean tells me to turn my headlamp off. The sun has come up enough for me to see my way around these giant boulders without the artificial light. Everything is a cold pale blue. I feel like I am pale. I want to lay down and sleep so badly. These boulders could be a good place to sleep, no? My hands are so cold, I feel like I can barely grip anything. My ankle hurts more now. stepping up on my right leg isn't working anymore. Time to exercise the left leg into overdrive. Step up, climb up, scramble up. I have nothing left by the time I reach the hut at the keyhole. "Come inside Emma, come out of the wind," Jean calls to me. I nod my head, "I'm coming." I have nothing left. Nothing inside me. Before I crawl into the hut with seven other people in there, I look back from where I came. There is no way to properly describe that sight. We, as humans, have watered down the intensity level of words like "awesome," "mind-blowing," "amazing," and "incredible," but that is what that view was. I have never seen anything as intense and beautiful in my life. Sunrise in the mountains. In that moment, it didn't matter that I was completely exhausted and sore. It didn't matter that my ankle was throbbing or that I couldn't breathe. It didn't matter that I was nauseous. All that mattered was that sunrise. I found myself smiling a little because all I could think about was something a friend of a friend once said to her, something I once thought of as so cheesy, but in that moment, I got it. "The sunrises and sunsets come and go, but the beauty of the current one makes you completely forget that you have ever seen anything like it. Nothing is more majestic than now." I understand now. 

Sunrise at the Keyhole

The boulder field, which we climbed up in the dark earlier

Looking out on the boulder field and beautiful mountains

Looking back at the hut by the keyhole

6:20am - The sun is rising. Jean is so happy. She is practically bouncing around hut. "The sun is coming up you guys!" She is so happy. I want to tell her how happy I am to be here, but I can barely manage a smile. I am grateful for her good spirits. More people are in here now. You would think that would have made it warmer, but it hasn't. I am sitting on a rock, which is on top of a pile of ice. I am freezing cold. I have all of my extra layers on and it isn't helping. My insides are cold. I feel like my lungs are frozen. There is ice in my chest. I am holding myself and I am sitting on a rock. We are waiting because the wind is too strong to go through the keyhole and to the summit. We are waiting for the sun to come up higher and the wind to die down. I am getting an inkling that I won't be making it to the summit today. My headache has engulfed the right side of my brain. I feel extremely nauseous. I can't feel my hands, not because they are cold, because they are numb. I can't understand why they are numb. My right eye doesn't seem to be functioning anymore. The longer we wait, the colder I am getting. My organs feel like one-by-one they are freezing up. Please come up faster sun, I need you to warm me. I need to not be so cold. Please. 

Simone, me, and Jean in the very cold hut

We hiked up to the Keyhole, where the wind was insane, but the view of the other side was worth it.

 

A couple of thousand feet downward

Jean and I in the Keyhole

Waiting for the wind to die down

Looking out across the rocks

7:05am - The decision has been made to go on. The wind has died down now. But not me. I am not going any further. I feel so sick. All I can think about is making this headache go away. I am making the best call for me. I am not ready for 14,000ft. Not yet. Not today. My mom told me before this trip, when I told her I was a bit nervous, that I should trust my gut. I am trusting my gut. I am not going any further. I am suddenly very proud of myself. This is me being an adult. I made the best decision possible for me. Not anyone else. My group goes through the key hole and I watch their primary color jackets disappear behind the rocks. Goodbye red, yellow, and blue. And just like that, I am alone. Again. I look down the boulder field and the amazing fully sun lit views around me, and I feel strong. I made it this far, and that is pretty amazing. I am smiling.

Just after my group went through the keyhole

Looking out at the rock along the ridge

About to head back down the boulder field alone

8:20am - We agreed that if we split up there would be only two meet up points. Either at the sign at the start of the boulder fields or at the car. So I am sitting on a rock by the sign. I had briefly tried to hike up the ridge to the overview of Chasm Lake, but the headache worsened and I almost threw up. So I decided on this rock. But it is still so cold. Even in the sun. The wind won't stop blowing my hair all over my face. And I am not warming up. The frozen pieces of me won't melt. I am trying to eat. I know I have to eat. I force down some of my sandwich. It tastes horrible. Fruit leathers and these blended fruit and veggie packets are all I can get down. I want to wait for my friends to come back. I want to hike down with them, but I am so cold. Why is it still so cold? I might have to keep moving.

So incredible

Happy I made it as far as I did

An incredible view of the Keyhole from halfway down the boulder field

:)

The sign at the start of the boulder field

Windswept

9:00am - I just woke up. I must have laid down on this rock and fallen asleep. Not good. My headache is worse now. I drink water for two minutes straight. I time myself. I need more water. I need to make this headache go away. I eat the Justin's equivalent of a Snickers bar. I hope for energy. I am hopeful for my brain to stop hurting. I close my eyes and lean back across the rock, it is so cold. I am hoping to trick my mind into thinking it's not that cold. Maybe I should head back? I drift off looking at the hikers going up to and coming down from the keyhole. Little specks of color. An old (maybe, what do I know?) man in running gear sits down nearby on a rock. "How's it going?" he asks me. "Oh you know, pretty good, I was just napping on this rock," I respond. He chuckles. "Are you running this?" I ask him, I already know the answer. I can spot runners miles away. He is carrying almost nothing, running water bottle in one hand, running clothes that I'm pretty sure are from the 80s and a wicking sun visor. "Well, maybe not the whole thing, but yeah." "That's awesome," I respond. I'm not kidding, the idea of running this trail that has completely kicked my ass is amazing to me. He eats a gel and asks me about the wind. We talk for a bit longer before he heads up the boulder field. I wish him the best of luck. I watch him climb up the rocks and feel inspired.

9:51am - It's time to go. I will not warm up here. I have decided to meet my group back at the car. This journey down will be solo. I promise myself I will go slowly and I will take breaks and drink water and enjoy the views. But I have to start moving, otherwise... I don't know, but I don't want to. I just have to go. My legs move under me and I am headed down the trail from where I came. The view is exquisite. I am breathless at the sights I am seeing. Now I am seeing everything that was masked in darkness earlier and I am blown away. There are no words that I can use to describe the beauty that lay out in front of me, so I will simply post some photos now. But know that these don't even come close to expressing how intensely happy and full I felt looking out at all of that beauty.

So cold still, so it's time to get on the move

10:50am - The way back down is of course easier. My body is grateful that I am descending and my brain hurts less now. I feel better and can stop every once in a while and eat. I can't stop smiling. Everything I see around me is simply the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I am still above tree line and to every side of me are mountains that just go on forever. I feel like up here everything is more intense. I am speechless at the beauty around me. 

Panorama 1 - Looking back at where I cam from

Panorama 2 - Where I am going

The most incredible views I have ever seen

Above the clouds

I am happiest outside, in the wilderness, in places like these

Panorama 3 - Incredible

11:34am - The best part is that for the most part I am completely alone. It's so funny how earlier I felt so lonely in my aloneness, and now I am reveling in it. I am enjoying it so much I decide to start singing. I don't even think about it, the music just is coming out of me. The song? 'Hallelujah' by Jeff Buckley. It is one of my favorite songs ever. I sing it over and over and over again and I am so happy. My favorite line in it is this one,

"Maybe there's a God above, 

But all I've ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you,

And it's not a cry that you hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light,

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"

I don't know why I like it so much. It's such a sad song. But it brings to the surface so much emotion inside me. I have had some hard times in my life, but I always have found that no matter how hard the hike is, no matter how cold the wind is, even on the worst of days, there is still a possibility for joy. The hallelujah may be a broken one, but it's still a hallelujah all the same.

((According to Wikipedia: 'In modern English, "Hallelujah" is frequently spoken to express happiness that a thing hoped or waited for has happened.' I entitled this post, Hallelujah because I was so happy on this trip and I was so moved by the beauty around me, but also because in more ways than one, this hike delivered me into more of myself. I became more of who I am because of this hike, the hard parts and the ones where I was high with happiness. It's been a long year and change, but I really like the person I am now and I am really happy in my skin. I don't expect anyone reading this to really get that, but the thing I have been waiting for has happened. I guess that is why I was singing that song.))

Hiking down, another hiker in the distance

The views were incredible the entire was down

A marmot, he was huge! 

Panorama 4 - Happiness is up here

Starting to shed layers as it warms up

Getting down into the tree line

12:00pm - I cannot believe it is noon. My brain is so confused by this. 12 hours ago I was waking up, trying to process what was ahead, and now I am descending below the tree line, passing the waterfall I had heard so many hours before, seeing this forest in a completely different light. And it is hot. Such a far cry from the frigid cold I had felt hours earlier. I am down to only my tank top, but I am still smiling. I have experienced so much on this day. I can't believe it is coming to an end. I am grateful that soon I will be done and I can rest, but part of me is also sad this journey is ending. Experiencing each moment, even the hard ones, of the last 12 hours was game changing for me. I know I will be back and I know I want more. And yet, I am tired. Haha. I have been walking down over rocks and roots for so long and then I see the sign that tells me I am 0.5 miles from the ranger station. Almost done.

Trees, wind beaten into growing like this.

It's time to say good bye to these amazing mountains

Headed into the tree line

Me at tree line

Almost back to the car...

Waterfall in day light now

1:15am - I am back at the car and like that everything is over. I take off my boots and change into clean shorts. I open the back of my friend's truck and lie with my legs dangling off the back of the trunk area. My eyes flutter and I drift away. The warm summer air holding me like a blanket. I am asleep. In my dreams, I am at the keyhole looking at the beauty all around me.

Love

My friends arrived about 35 minutes after I did and woke me up so we all could talk about the amazing experience we had. They told me about the summit and I told them how I sang down the mountain. We all agreed we had the best day. This will be etched in my memory as one of the best days of my life.