54 Peaks in 19 Years – A Perspective
I began climbing the 14’ers in 1983 strictly by accident. My roommate needed to go scope out a mining operation on Mt. Lincoln for a senior project at the Colorado School of Mines and I tagged along. Nineteen years later, I stepped atop the summit of Mt. Eolus, a different kind of climber in more ways than one.
My first trip was as a rank Cottoneer (climbing equivalent of a Touron) and nothing else, ignorant of mountain weather, staying off the tundra and oh so many other facets of climbing knowledge. We wore tennis shoes, jeans, and Carhart sweatshirts and believe it or not, did not even know Democrat was there, not to mention that it too was a 14,000 foot peak! Time, however, passed, and a buddy and I did Antero, with a map, climbing from the hard road far below, to the summit and back, because we lacked a vehicle that could cut off any of the distance (Dan had a purple AMC Pacer) A few years later, and with much other hiking under our belt, we flew to Colorado from sea level for a longish weekend and scored Tabeguache, Shavano, and Yale in two days. We were getting better, hiking boots, a pack with rain gear, and the knowledge to hustle when those thunderheads started coming our way on the summit of Mt. Yale.
Years passed without another 14’er, in fact ten years before I again set foot in Colorado for the purpose of climbing. The mining industry had finally dropped me back “in range,” this time in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and I was determined to complete the climbing of the 54. I also was no longer the college kid and I could afford some decent gear, Gore-Tex had arrived, and I had well over a decade of hiking, climbing and like activities in my experience. I started climbing the peaks again and I added the skills that were needed to do it right. I took an avalanche course to learn to recognize and avoid that hazard so particular to the Colorado brand of snowpack. I also took an Alpine skills course and learned how to travel across snow in order to expand my climbing season and take on more challenging routes. Most importantly, I climbed, with my eyes open, starting with the walk-ups and progressing to the tougher routes, learning something new with every climb as I routinely screw up, forget and ultimately discover new things.
If nothing else, climbing the 54 was a fairly comprehensive course in mountaineering, the end point of which provided me with both a wonderful accomplishment and the body of knowledge needed to be a decent intermediate climber. I also grew to appreciate the peaks not as ticks on a list but individual challenges. I know that I certainly progressed from the awed beginner with 3 peaks to his credit to the bagger with 20 peaks and counting. Later as I neared the goal, I wanted to finish but I had put the bagger’s routes aside and started looking at snow routes, winter climbs, and seeking the tougher peaks with the confidence of an experienced climber.
For me the 14’ers are done, but not done. There are many snow and rock routes left to do on peaks climbed earlier, ridges to traverse and friends to accompany in their pursuit of the goal. There are hapless Cottoneers to pump water for, share maps with, and mention that those black clouds above can mean big trouble. There are good solid climbers to meet and chat with on tougher routes and friends with whom to camp and enjoy meals cooked over the campfire. For we all learn, sooner or later, that there is more to climbing than just getting to the top of them all.
In closing, thanks go to Roger for the first peak, to Dan for the half a dozen that followed, to Gary and Di for taking most of the solo out of climbing, and all those folks on other peaks who let me tag along for the day . . . the ministers on Pikes, the lawyers on Capitol, the couple on the Needle . . .
Finally, and most importantly, thanks go to my wife, Debbie, who does more than tolerate my weekends in the mountains, she truly understands.