NNAOPP Update
August 2013
Every once and a while, you catch
a break. In my case this came when
I serendipitously learned that July 27, 2013 happened to be National Day of the
Cowboy, and there was a yodeling and cowboy poetry concert held to honor same. The
location of the event just happened to be in a large machine shed on a ranch in
the Flint Hills, near Manhattan, KS, and the date and time coincided with the
timing of our scheduled 14er trip to Colorado.
Next to a professional whistling,
I can't think of anything more pleasing to the ear than cowboy yodeling. The headliner of the concert was none
other than Judy Coder, last year's winner of the Patsy Montana International
Yodeling contest. We would quickly
concur that this was an honor well deserved
The warm-up act was cowboy
songster and poet Jeff Davidson.
It amazes me how many gifted people are out there performing their craft
in relative obscurity. From him we
learned the origin of the word, "gringo." It seems that the Anglo cowboys riding herd on Texas cattle
en route to Kansas railheads loved the song "Green Grow the Lilacs"
and sang it often. The Mexican
vaqueros often comprised a portion of the crew of drovers, and they were
puzzled by their counterparts' love of this strange song. So they called them 'green grows'.
In between acts we were treated
to a tasty BBQ dinner and to recitations of cowboy poetry. We shared a table with some nice people
from Overbrook, KS. Of the 125 or
so people in attendance, all but two were dressed in jeans with big belt
buckles, cowboy boots and hats.
Judy and I stood out in our distinctly non-western, suburban, summer
attire.
La Plata Peak
The days leading up to a 14er
climb comprise a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Negative thoughts abound. "Has my training been
adequate? Will I become a burden to my comrades? Is this really worth the
effort?" On the flip side, fond memories linger from earlier climbs of the
glistening dew adorning the aspens, the thrill of breaking out above the
treeline, the wildflowers dotting the alpine meadows, the elation upon reaching
the peak, and all the while pausing to reflect on the grandeur of God's
creation.
We rendezvoused in lovely Buena
(pronounced bewna) Vista, CO, a town nestled on the banks of the Arkansas River
lying in the shadow of the Sawatch Range, home to fifteen of Colorado's
14,000-ft peaks including Massive, Elbert, Huron, Harvard, Princeton, and Yale,
and to La Plata Peak, 14,336' this year's choice for our antediluvian cluster
of climbers.
Our group once again featured our
lionhearted captain, Fred, along with last year's new members, John and
Dave. Dave's wife, Shannon, also joined
us, lowering the average age and increasing the comeliness of our band of
striders. All were in
good spirits as we met at the town's elegant Super 8 for refreshments and
headed to the Eddyline Cafe for an early dinner. The bonhomie of the reunion with friends and fellow climbers
washed away any pessimistic thoughts.
Our only concerns were weather.
It had been raining intermittently all day, and the forecast was for
more of the same the next few days.
On Friday morning we rendezvoused
at 4:45 am and were on the road to the trailhead. Predictably, the last 3-4 miles were bone jarring in the
extreme. Fortunately, Fred's Ford
Explorer had mountain tires and high clearances and capably got us to the
trailhead at 10,700' at 6 am. It was 42 degrees when we departed, as glimmers
of daylight revealed a cloud-covered sky.
The recent rains made the trail
was slightly muddy and the vegetation sparkled. It had been a wet July so the greenery was dense and lush,
particularly at the lower elevations.
According to the 14er's guide, the southwestern route to La Plata Peak
was 3.5 miles in distance with a 3,636' ascent, exactly 1' of ascent for each
5' distance, about the incline of the lower deck of Royal's stadium. It was relatively steep from the
trailhead to the treeline, but we made good time, and everyone appeared to be
hiking strong. The wildflowers
were uncommonly bountiful and colorful, owing to the abundance of rain.
Emerging from the treeline we encountered
a dense forest of Barrenground Willows through which we hiked for about one
half mile. A narrow trail had been
cut through the woody plants making passage possible along a muddy path. The willows towered over us, so it was
impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. I was following Fred fairly closely when the path widened
through a boggy stretch. Fred went
to the right side of the trail seeking more suitable footing, and I unwisely
chose the left, whereupon my left foot sunk into the mud over my high-top
boot. I was fortunate to not lose
my boot when pulling it out of the muck.
Bootlessness in the Rockies is not to be desired.
Coming out of the thicket we came
to a gently rising stretch of grassy bog dotted with tiny alpine ponds. It was relatively easy, but squishy
walking. Then we reached a steep
wall of scree and loose rock forming a bowl cresting at a saddle that was the entry
point to a rocky ridgeline leading northward to the peak.
We were hiking from the east, and, as the sun rose from behind, we
could see a continuous stream of gray clouds converging from the west. At
one point we viewed the false summit leading to La Plata Peak totally shrouded
in a dark mist. We were concerned about lightning, but decided to proceed to
the saddle to gain a better view of the weather coming out of the west before
deciding our course of action. It
was an arduous climb. Fred later noted, "The
500-foot wall leading up to the saddle may be the hardest stretch I have
encountered on any 14er."
We
reached the saddle, about 13,000', at 8:30 am, (John took a picture of his
watch that showed our elevation, barometric pressure, time, and temperature). We'd come about 2.5+ miles, a fairly
fast pace for our group.
The
skies were dark and ominous, so we pondered our options. We were feeling pretty strong after the
ascent up the bowl, and it appeared we had now done the heaviest lifting in
getting to our goal. It was 44
degrees, and the wind was blowing 20-30 mph from the west when we came over the
lee of the saddle, adding to the chill. We estimated we were less than a
mile (an hour of hiking) from the summit, but we were at least an hour and a
half above the tree line and any form of shelter.
Fred
wisely observed, "There's less than a 1% chance of getting fried, but
that's too high." We saw other climbers a few hundred yards ahead of
us that were plodding on, but we headed down. A passing hiker reminded us
of the bronze plaque set on the ridge leading to Mt. Princeton memorializing a
hiker killed by lightning. We needed little persuasion.
Fred
said he had never seen worse looking weather so early in the morning during any
of his seventeen climbs. I agreed, although working from a smaller sample
size. It's uncommon for a storm to gather so early in the morning in the
mountains, but on this day they did.
I
decided that since we had done 90% of the heavy lifting getting within hailing
distance of our goal, that we could count La Plata Peak as .9 of a 14er, thus
6.9 down, 47 to go. When we got back down to the trailhead Fred asked if
anyone wanted to try again tomorrow. He wasn't joking. All declined politely.
In spite
of failing to reach our objective, it was a beautiful climb. We were
never away from the comforting sounds of rushing water; we caught a glimpse of
the surrounding panorama from the saddle; and we again tested our abilities.
My
training and acclimatizing was adequate, so I felt strong. Had the
weather not interfered, it would have been a relatively easy jaunt to the top.
My regimen wasn't meaningfully more rigorous than in year's past, so I believe
my improved condition was a consequence of having consumed large quantities of
Gatorade before and during the early portions of the hike and to the vitamin B
tablets I'd taken. (Thanks Ben for
the training tips.)
We returned to the trailhead
around 11:30 am, ate the lunch originally intended as the
summit-reaching-treat, drank a few bottles of Moose Drool, a tasty Missoula, MT
ale, and consoled ourselves in the failed attempt by noting that we all
returned safely.
Jim, our intrepid but absent
comrade, astutely wrote upon learning of our decision to abandon the climb,
"There are old climbers and bold climbers, but there are no old, bold
climbers."
Trip captain, Fred who will
celebrate his 73rd birthday in a month, is scheduled to climb another 14er next
week, Mt. Sherman, with his 13-year old grandson. Adding even more luster to his manly, mountaineering prowess,
he told us that he has been working as a volunteer this summer with the forest
service maintaining trails near his home in Steamboat Springs. This involves hiking 3-5 miles with a
two-man handsaw clearing fallen logs off trails. Fred is my role model.
Two days before heading to
Colorado, I had a meeting in Andover, KS.
I stopped at the eponymous tollbooth off the Kansas turnpike to
pay. The pleasant toll lady
overheard the book I had playing in the car and inquired, "What are you
listening to?" I told
her. Then she told me about her
book. There was no traffic behind
me, so we chatted for a few moments.
She shared some of her favorite authors and titles. Then, I suggested, "You know the
book you need to read?"
What, "She said."
"Nude Nuns and Other
Peculiar People." Said I and continued, "by none other than moi", as I touched both cheeks
with my slightly rotating index fingers.
She laughed, and I drove off.
One day later, as is my custom, I
checked the Amazon sales register and noted a purchase occurred the previous
day. Makes one ponder. Am I capable of even more egregious
pandering?
Chuck
Charles A. Wells, Jr.
3317 W. 68th Street
Shawnee Mission, KS 66208
816 289-1924
Author of: Nude Nuns and Other Peculiar
People
Now available in all ebook formats at: http://www.smashwords.com/b/96530
Follow my blog at: http://www.nudenuns.blogspot.com
Available at:
Rainy Day Books, 2706 W. 53rd Street,
Fairway, KS
Bruce
Smith Drug Store, Prairie Village, KS
The Raven Bookstore, 8 East 7th,
Lawrence, KS
Architectural Salvage, 2045 Broadway,
Kansas City, MO
Sanibel Island Bookshop, 1571
Periwinkle, Sanibel, FL
Twisted Sisters Eclectic Gifts and
Floral, Albany, MO
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