Mount Morrison

AKA: When the toughest part is going down

It never warmed up to the 60s promised in the forecasts. Tiring of waiting and holding onto the faith of meteorologists' reports, at 11:30 am, I decided it was time for a different plan other than mountain biking.

Hiking seemed a rather mundane choice, but better than not doing anything. Then I remembered this "route" posted on MountainProject. It seemed like a good choice. I remember a few years back Tasha and I trying to find a way up, only to get stopped by barbed-wire fencing.

Mount Morrison is easily seen from any place in Denver. It's the bump above Red Rocks with antenna on top. I parked at the upper circular parking lot at Red Rocks. After reading the start of the trail can be difficult to spot, I stumbled upon it 15 feet from my driver's seat.

Some strange ruin about 200 feet up the trail with Red Rocks behind


Looking up at the midway point of the hike


Funny how the trail looks like it is going down. It actually is a gentle uphill section


So this "route" was beginning to become lame. It's a hike. I'm on a trail, albeit a steep trail that is giving me a good cardio workout. Those cliffs better hold some promise.

Coming to the first outcropping, I wandered off the trail to the lowest one and began scrambling. It is nice solid gneiss and deceivingly tougher than it looked. Much of the bedding was down-sloping. Some nice edges and round knobs though made it fun and doable in my approach shoes.







The "route" was enjoyable enough. A series of 20-30-foot-tall rock-croppings interspersed by grassy benches. Finally I came to one which looked like it would be a challenge to tackle straight on. Slightly overhanging with a semi-detached tower on it, this cliff looked like it had some spice to it. I just underestimated how much.



The first half was easy. Then came a stem across a very blank slab with an overhanging finish. A break partway up proved to be a Fool's Gold area. All the handholds faced down. I grabbed a slightly positive edge, other hand on a slopper, one foot smearing a bump and the other stemming across, toeing an indentation in a dihedral.

And then my good foot blew. It was a strange moment. I could feel gravity pulling at me like a hand trying to pry me away, as opposed to "This is Physics - gravity is all around you, you fall you go down". I know it really doesn't make sense, but it really did feel like a hand grabbing my shoulders.

The other odd thing as I could feel my weight shift perilously towards the jumbled rocks below was the thought which formed in my head. Nothing along the lines of, "Get your foot back on!", nor "Don't fall!", and not even something as base as, "Oh sh*t!".

No my single thought was, "How humiliating would that be. I'm on Mount Morrison of all things."

Suffice to say, I got my left foot back on, scrambled my right foot up putting me in a frog position, hip shift, reach up to a flat edge, and past the difficulties.

The next rock-cropping was the same way. A climb up led to a traverse which led to a foot blowing when the rock crumbled under my weight and I whacked my knees pretty hard into the rock. Smeared the right foot back on, left foot up to a heel hook and reach up to a bomber hold.

Some bedding where a tram rail once went up. You can see the gash in the mountainside from the parking lot


Some more hiking and I was at the top. 40 minutes to go 1,400 vertical feet.

No, apparently I can't put a hat on straight


The views:





Now going down. How to describe the hike down? Mmmm.... ball-bearings, tedious, torturous, and treacherous. Now the following statements will read like hyperbole, but while slowly making my way back I mulled over things and decided these were much better alternatives I have experienced:

• I would rather downclimb vertical scree on Jasper Peak.
• I would rather climb a mountain with a severely sprained ankle.
• I would rather read a Charles Dickens novel.

I nearly bit it countless times with my feet sliding out from underneath me. It took me 50 minutes to get back to the car with a couple of sore knees.

And here's the thing; I'm dumb enough to go do it again. Sometime in the future the awfulness of the hiking down will wear away, the memory will become somewhat frayed and blurry and I will think, "It wasn't THAT bad, was it?"

Actually I would like to try it again with all of the stuff frozen solid and a bit of ice on top.

When is enough going to be enough

Helped out on a Habitat for Humanity project today. Instead of giving a hand building a house, I helped with a deconstruction project. One could argue these types of projects are what keep Habitat going.

Denver Metro Habitat has two home improvement warehouses where donated household and construction items are sold. Because of the success of these two stores, Habitat can say every dollar donated goes directly to a building project. The two outlets cover the organization's overhead and office costs.

I arrived at the house to be torn down and was shocked at what I was greeted by. A block east of Washington Park, this house was an incredible century-old house. It was renovated only five years ago and was not only in solid shape, it was beautiful.



The kitchen while the island and cabinets are taken out.



I don't know exactly what happened, but my guess the house was about to go through or went through foreclosure. We were guestimating while eating lunch that the lot itself would go for $500,000 because of the location. The developer, who lives three houses down, is going to completely tear it down and build a brand new house, which will probably be too big for the lot it will sit on.

It's a shame really. This not only is a beautiful house, but it was once somebody's home. I am reminded about the temporary nature of things whenever I go back to Chicago to my mother's neighborhood. My best friend PJ's old house he grew up in, across the alley from my mother's - gone. Nothing but a lot.

Still it made me a bit sad and wonder, what is the limit when enough is enough.

Work interrupted, handlebar ejection

It's a little more than a week before Thanksgiving and it's over 70 degrees outside. And luck would have it, it's my day off. Sometimes fate does smile upon me - and not only after pulling the karmic rug from underneath me either.

Not too bad considering I had to keep my eye on the trail.


Two big loops in three hours. One instance of being jailhouse violated by my saddle when I unexpectedly came to a switchback. And one instance of a spectacular over-the-handlebars flip when I pinched my tire in a granite constriction. I stuck the landing and avoided the tree so I should receive high marks from the judges (except the Peruvian one. He's always shifty.).



Wanted to kick myself for not bringing my climbing shoes or at least my approach shoes. Elephant Butte was beckoning me. Perfect temps, perfect lighting and no compound fractures. I really just need to start bringing the whole kit when I head out. Some 300 feet of solo slabbing would have been a perfect dessert.