But then again, I'm not usual.
The Kenosha Mountains. Ahh... the Kenosha Mountains, how I am beginning to have a love/hate relationship with you. Geriatrics can climb to your snow-dappled summits yet for me the way seems barred... thrice.
Attempt #1: Several years ago, Tasha and I attempted to get up Peak X, Y & Z or any combination of them. It was mid May and the road to the trailhead was snowfree. However the hike itself was not, and stupid me didn't think about bringing snowshoes. After postholing for over an hour and making very, very little progress and getting very fatigued we bailed.
Attempt #2: See two posts down. Bear 1, Ryan with his tail inbetween his legs 0.
And now we are on to attempt #3. Outside it seems like we fastforwarded two months and are in fall. The past few days have been cool and rainy. Any attempts at a real mountain are pretty much shutdown.
Saturday woke up with the intentions of getting up Kenosha Peak, Peak X and X Prime - rain, sleet or snow.
My clock reads 7 am. I'm awake before my alarm enjoying my incipient moments of consciousness when a bolt of lightning strikes nearby, rattling the windows and temporarily knocking out the power. And then I hear the pain patter of heavy rain. Well, I do need to make some marinara sauce and clean my place...
Sunday dawns overcast but not as threatening as Saturday. Danielle and I meet at the Park-n-Ride outside of Indian Hills and soon we are getting our gators on and shouldering our packs at 10 am.
I point out where I saw the bear track and before long, we enter an aspen grove. We must have passed the area where I saw the big ursine without noticing it.
This will be gorgeous in another month or so. Instead it was only subliminally pretty.
The trail was my type of trail, it didn't switchback, it didn't meander. It followed Ben Tyler Gulch up through various stands of forest - a very eclectic forest for Colorado mind you - with meadows and flowers. Soon I was counting out the elevation gain for Danielle.
Getting my macro to focus on little flowers is proving to be difficult
We started doing some switchbacks which I remembered from reconnoitring the map and guidebook meant we were close to treeline. But heck, I could have figured that out from the scenery. Subalpine meadows began dominating the surrounding, the area began opening up.
We came across a solo hiker with his two dogs. He was heading back down as he was ill-equipped for the snow and slush blanketing the higher climes.
It was shortly after that when things began to change. I was always casting a glance over my shoulder to check out the sky. First the flanks of the 12ers across the valley were enveloped, then the foothills and now, well, we were about to be enveloped.
And this is when we turned around:
After starting at 8,200 feet, we got up to 10,900 feet. We were only a mile and change with 1,200 feet of elevation left from the top. Rain didn't bother me, neither did the prospect of snow; we both packed for adverse conditions. White-out? No worries, I can plot by map, compass and altimeter.
No, it was the several boom/cracks of thunder and lightning which made us descend. I've been near a flash-boom once, and it isn't an experience I'm looking to repeat anytime soon. Being the tallest thing around for many miles, which we would be up on the summit, just isn't smart.
Platte Peak coated with snow from Saturday.
Yes this is Colorado. And yes it is the middle of August.
Just listen to the sound:
Descending quickly our pants became drenched from brushing up against the wet shrubbery flanking the trail. Partway down, I commented how this feels completely normal to me. Way too many years, way too many trips, way too many miles plodded in the rain. Washington does that to you. It feels more familiar in a downpour than it does with the sun beating down.
Actually besides the rain, the dense vegetation, the nearby creek, the moss clinging to rocks, the steepness of the flanks of the Kenosha and Platte River ranges, it truly is the closest I have come to the Cascades in Colorado. And the rain and sleet just made it complete.
The only difference was the smell. The Cascadian jungle has a deep, almost overpowering, earthy smell to it due to the ginormous extent of flora.
Whaddya do when you can't get to the top? Take pictures.
When we reached the truck over four hours later - the time really did fly - I wasn't upset about being denied the destination. Sometimes the journey is the giant carrot dangling in front of the ass.
Addendum
I painfully discovered on the drive home. I can no longer drink Starbucks mochas - doubled over in pain, where did this lava come from painful.
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