They call is summit fever when someone is just dying to get to the top of a mountain. And a lot of people do die trying, ironically. They don't play it safe and they don't know their limits. And while I felt like I had a good handle on the situation when it came to climbing a "14er" I didn't actually know until I was at the top. Confidence can get you pretty far when it comes to most things in life. But you can't always coast on confidence to help you succeed. In fact it is quite the opposite. Mostly it takes hard work and just taking things once step at a time. And although I am filling your brains with colloquialisms, clichés, and idioms I found all of these to be true when it came to climbing two 14ers. You see, I've read a dozen mountaineering books so I felt pretty confident that I would know when to turn back not to mention all the dangers that are included in climbing in the alpine environment. But what I didn't learn from all the books was to really enjoy the experience. I knew that spending a long time on any given summit was a bad idea. But I only spent a few minutes to eat a snack and snap a few pictures. I didn't really take in the experience. I was too worried about getting down safely. I can give the excuse of being practically asphyxiated when I got to the top. And people do strange things when there is a lack of oxygen. I would compare it to being drunk but it's not quite the same. You still have your inhibitions but your judgment is fogged. It’s like time just seems to slow down. It takes longer to think. And you won't know this feeling until you've been at the top. I remember when I hit the top of Gray's peak I had a hard time communicating exactly what I meant to say. Although I was happy to see other human life forms who would be able to carry on some kind of conversation. I soloed both Gray's and Torrey's which most people would call a mistake. They would claim that climbing alone is a dangerous business because if you fall there won't be anyone to organize a rescue. But my theory is that if you fall on a mountain rescue is so far away and the likelihood of survival is so much slimmer that danger is not the best reason for having a climbing partner. The best reason is to have emotional support. A second brain to help make judgment calls and to be excited with when you conquer the hill. But nonetheless it was nice to be alone on the mountain. I kept my own pace, I learned to deal with my own fears, and I was my own cheer leader. But being alone I kept my eye out for others who were climbing. Whether that was to watch for their safety, if they might cause a rock fall, or other behaviors I was able to pay close attention to my fellow climbers. For the most part these people were avid climbers with a lot of experience. They had the right gear and attitude. One guy on top of Gray's was marking his assent of his 53rd 14er. He had conquered all of the 14,000 foot peaks in the state of Colorado. Funny enough his first climb was at the age of 25 and I turned 25 three months ago. I suppose it was quite apropos that I meet this man on the summit of Gray's on my maiden summit. But there are other stories on the climb that were stranger that I would like to forget. There was the man whose son clearly had Acute Mountain Syndrome and was throwing up. When I offered aspirin to help with the symptoms the man barked back, "He's already had some". But I couldn't give a second thought to it because it wasn't my job to take care of a 7 or 8 year old boy on top of a mountain. Although it was a bit heart wrenching to hear the child say, "Dad, I don't want to throw up again and my head hurts. Can we please go back down?" I didn't have time to argue with an adult and try to convince him that the cure to AMS is to descend. An even stranger story occurred at the top of Torrey's. Two young male college students had passed me on the accent keeping a better pace than myself. One of them was quite outspoken and talked about other mountains he had climbed and said, "The worst part about climbing with me is that I talk too much". I couldn't agree more. And as they passed me this student gave me the "rock". I guess it was his way of encouraging me to make it to the summit. But as I reached the summit about five minutes behind them it felt like an empty gesture. I wasn't struggling to make it. I just needed a moment to catch my breath. When I reach the summit of Torrey's I didn't really know how to get back down other than to go back the way I came. I ask the two college kids what their plan was for making the decent. The college student who had given me the "rock" was hunched over his pack and turned around to tell me not to take the north ridge. I looked him right in the eyes and his pupils were fully constricted and he had white powder on his nose and chin. I knew for a fact that he had been snorting some kind of narcotic. It baffled me. I was truly dumbfounded. My heart rate was already near 150 bpm and I can't imagine how high this guy must have been. With a lack of judgment due to the lack of oxygen and the drugs flowing through his veins it's a wonder that he didn't fall to his death or have a heart attack. I couldn't believe the irresponsibility especially because I had taken so many precautions before and during my trip. And if something terrible were to happen I would have to at least try to help the kid. They call it mountain code and its constantly debated whether or not you should stop to help someone and the general rule is to leave someone if it might endanger your life. The same code a first responder or a paramedic follows. And while I had that thought in the forefront of my mind I would have stopped to help. But despite the negative things I saw it was probably one of the most amazing experiences of my life. And like I said before I was sad not to have shared that with someone. So next time I go climbing I plan on bringing a friend.
