I have just completed the highest hike of my life, 14,450 feet above sea level. Mt Elbert is the 14th fourteener (a mountain over 14,000 feet above sea level) that I have hiked. Hiking to and above 14,000 ASL is a hobby of mine. I’ve been doing it for more than ten years.  Often, as it was in this case, my hiking buddy is Ray Shem. We have done several together, (he has done 39 so far), and I have done several solo. It is a kick, and an adventure that fewer than one percent of the world will ever experience. Because of physical exertion you get high on endorphins that begin to flow in your blood stream. Finally you are so highabove everything that in any direction you look, you’re looking down on God’s creation.  One of the greatest benefits is that you never meet a jerk or anyone with a negative attitude above twelve or thirteen thousand feet. I’ll probably do it as often as possible until I am no more on this Earth.

To enjoy the hike fully a person should get physically fit and then spend as much time as possible at a higher altitude (6,7,8 or 9  thousand feet ASL) which will give their bodies enough time to acclimate to the thinner atmosphere. The climbing is always strenuous, and the air is always thin. On this particular occasion, I had been working out on a bicycle and hiking the steepest hills I could find near my home in Mustang, Oklahoma. I would run up and down the bleachers at the high school so that my legs would be accustomed to that sort of effort. I was in decent shape, not the greatest, but not too bad for an older guy. The FAA believes me to be too old to fly Airliners because I’m closer to seventy than to sixty. Oh well! It is always exhilarating to hike a fourteener. Most of the other hikers are young, healthy,upbeat and interesting. Although, all kinds of people hike fourteeners ––– I’ve met people at the summit in their eighties, and some very obese and unfit, but they all had a “can-do” attitude or they never would have made it. They may groan about sore muscles or tired feet, they may mention having a headaches or feelings of nausea, but they are doing it, and it requires much effort. I love people who try as hard as they can, who may hurt a little but never whine or complain. Of course, some don’t make it to the top for many reasons, but I applaud them for their effort, even if their limit is just a few hundred feet above the tree line. They are awesome for giving it a shot. Hiking the first fourteener doesn’t require superhuman ability but it does require determination. The second is much easier, because you know the way the accomplishment will make you feel.

I became slow and cautious on my way down after an ankle break three years ago. On this particular day, I was the next to the last person to leave the top and the guy behind me was in no hurry to start down. I started far enough ahead of him that I never saw him again.  The hikers ahead of me were faster, and I watched them disappear into the tree line below.  Soon, I was the only person on the mountainside.   We had selected the trailhead that required a horizontal hike along the “Continental Divide Trail” for three or four miles before the final assent began. This was an easy trail to follow, however, there were several ups and downs of more than a couple hundred feet. (When hiking up the side of a mountain one hates to give back altitude that one has already gained, therefore, at the time, ups and downs seem to be such a waste of productivity.) On my way down, I reached the “Continental Divide Trail.” I remembered to turn left which was north. This all looked familiar as I checked the time. I should be back at camp by not later than sixteen hundred or four o’clock pm. I was excited. The assent took me a little over an hour for each thousand feet of altitude gain. (Every time I think about 1000 feet per hour I always remember the Instantaneous Vertical Speed Indicator in a Lear 24 that I used to operate. Climbing off the end of a runway it would peg-out at the 6,000 feet per minute mark and remain there until we were well over 18,000 feet. Now, 1000 feet per hour was considered a good rate of climb. I had hiked north on the “Continental Divide Trail” for almost three miles when I thought that I must have missed my turn down to the trail head. At the time, this part of the hike seemed to be much shorter earlier in the morning.  So, I backed-tracked trying to find my turn that I thought I had missed.  After back tracking twice, each time going a little farther than the time before each way, I met a fellow who claimed to have lived in the area for twenty years. (He was from Shawnee Oklahoma) He advised me that the trailhead that I was looking for was a long way back north of where we were. Soon it was dark. I dug out my head lamp and continued the procedure of back and forth looking for the turn. I stopped and changed my socks and continued to hike. My feet were sore, tired and blistered. I kept hiking first North and then South thinking I must have missed the turn. I had departed the camp with a hundred ounces of water, and a 20 ounce bottle of Gatorade, some trail mix, a sandwich and several power bars. I don’t wear my faith on my sleeve, however, everyone who knows me knows that I am a man of faith and of prayer. I had asked the Lord several times on that night to give me direction and to help me find my way down. He didn’t say a word, He gave me no direction at all. He didn’t give me a sign, nothing, nada. It was like He didn’t hear me, but I knew then and I know now that He did hear me, and that He knew my situation. He knows what is best for me now and what was best for me then, this I know. Although, I don’t always feel His presence ––– He is always with me. It was soon 2300 or eleven o’clock PM.  Although I saw what looked like lion tracks, I felt no fear or anxiety about my situation what-so-ever. I decided to take a nap, I found what looked like a place that I wouldn’t slide down the mountain and dug out my space blanket that I always carry when hiking. I also dug out an extra fleece vest. I wrapped up as best as I could and slept. I was exhausted, my feet were sore and sensitive. Other than that, I was fine. I slept off and on for six hours.  When I found myself shivering I would readjust the space blanket and warm up a little. I had no matches, no map, no gun, no knife, and I was wearing my normal attire for this time of the year which is a tee shirt and shorts. I was not lost because I knew where I was, I was on the “Continental Divide Trail” near the base of Mt. Elbert, Colorado. I knew where my pickup was parked. The truck was at the Mt. Elbert, Half-moon Train Head. I just wasn’t sure how to get to where I wanted to go from my location at the time. I arose around 0500. I realized that my determination to go on wasn’t going to be a factor, because I had no choice but to walk down. Both my feet were extremely tender but so what? I could still walk. I could still think, and I still had food and water. But the question was should I walk North or South to find this elusive turn off. It wasn’t very dark as the moon was full and still up. The sun was making light to the east, and as I started walking, I heard voices that seemed to be coming from the South. I walked south and found two hikers that had been on the trail for two weeks. They had set up camp about a hundred feet above the trail. I asked if they knew of a trailhead near. The told me that the maps that they had were poor at best. They were unsure of their exact position, but the knew that there was a trailhead a couple miles north and another probably three or four miles south along the trail somewhere. I turned around again and headed North because I was going to the nearest trailhead, and two miles sounded better than three or four. I met several that had come from the trailhead but their description of it was lacking, and I still wasn’t sure if it was where I wanted to go, but I was going. Finally, a couple of guys were headed up the trail, and I stopped to visit. I asked them how far to the trailhead and he indicated less than two miles. I asked if he saw a black pickup in the parking lot and he replied, “A black Tundra with a Ron Paul Bumper Sticker on it?”  When he said that I immediately knew that I was going to be back in camp soon because he described my truck to the T. (He must have been a policeman or something because he was particularly observant.) When I arrived at the campsite, Ray was still asleep in his tent, but he was really glad to see me. He had notified the county Sheriff and was planning to lead a search party looking for me later that morning. We cooked up some coffee, and we sat around and shot the bull for an hour. We then drove into Leadville for some breakfast. He notified the Sheriff and canceled the search party. I didn’t feel too bad but didn’t want to hike another fourteener for at least a week or so. We packed up, paid our fees, drove to Salida and checked into a motel for a hot shower and a nap. We had dinner went to bed and rested up for the next day’s adventure. I’ll tell you about that one with photos later.