The sound of the tent zipper woke me as I tiresomely checked my watch, 4:45 am. Time to get out of this warm cocoon and out into the foggy mist that surrounded our campsite. The oatmeal was a bit cold, but it didn't seem to matter to me. Such a minor thing as I knew that attempting to summit this mountain would be much more unpleasant than a cold breakfast. We were at Warner Lake basecamp 9,345 ft. up in the La Sal Mountains. The anticipation was overwhelming as I stared up at the snow-capped monster, gradually getting closer and closer. The climb took a nice start with loose talus the majority of the way up which beat up everyones quads and knees. Once we took a food break and rehydrated, it was time to push on to the false summit through the fir-aspen and pine-oak. Only 250 yards split the difference between the group and the top of this colossal mountain; oh yeah and a great deal of summit fever. Once atop, I felt it to be appropriate to call the woman that I missed most, Mom. Nothing seemed to matter to me while standing at 11,642 ft. with a great group of people. For once I was content with life. Satisfaction. My first real taste of what mountaineering was, was finally here. Little did I know the fun part was still awaiting. For approximately a quarter mile I slid down the crusty snow and ice mixture to the talus that I dreaded. The bloody shins were just a small reminder that I was still alive and well. As we traipsed back through the prairie I could vaguely make out my hammock hanging between the quaking aspens that lined our campsite. We made it.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Climbing The Talus
The sound of the tent zipper woke me as I tiresomely checked my watch, 4:45 am. Time to get out of this warm cocoon and out into the foggy mist that surrounded our campsite. The oatmeal was a bit cold, but it didn't seem to matter to me. Such a minor thing as I knew that attempting to summit this mountain would be much more unpleasant than a cold breakfast. We were at Warner Lake basecamp 9,345 ft. up in the La Sal Mountains. The anticipation was overwhelming as I stared up at the snow-capped monster, gradually getting closer and closer. The climb took a nice start with loose talus the majority of the way up which beat up everyones quads and knees. Once we took a food break and rehydrated, it was time to push on to the false summit through the fir-aspen and pine-oak. Only 250 yards split the difference between the group and the top of this colossal mountain; oh yeah and a great deal of summit fever. Once atop, I felt it to be appropriate to call the woman that I missed most, Mom. Nothing seemed to matter to me while standing at 11,642 ft. with a great group of people. For once I was content with life. Satisfaction. My first real taste of what mountaineering was, was finally here. Little did I know the fun part was still awaiting. For approximately a quarter mile I slid down the crusty snow and ice mixture to the talus that I dreaded. The bloody shins were just a small reminder that I was still alive and well. As we traipsed back through the prairie I could vaguely make out my hammock hanging between the quaking aspens that lined our campsite. We made it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)