Redemption — JON E KING

Back in 2010 while visiting Colorado, my college roommates and I decided on a whim to hike Longs Peak. Key word whim. We were all college athletes and figured “Hey how hard could it be?” To our credit, we at least called the park ranger to get a little advice. As it was our first ever 14er, the ranger suggested to allow 8 hours to summit and urged us to get back below the tree line by noon to avoid afternoon thunderstorms. Heeding his advice, we decided to start our hike at 2 a.m. figuring we’d summit by 10, have a little time on top to take selfies, get some likes likes likes and then head back down by early afternoon. Did we research anything else? No. I decided a 16oz water bottle for a 17 mile out-and-back hike with 5,100’ elevation gain would suffice. Scott loaded his Camelbak with Mountain Dew and brought his usual diet of Twizzlers, cheese puffs and Snickers. From the looks of the pictures, Tom at least brought a headlamp and some water. Zack’s only mistake was forgetting he had zero percent body fat and wouldn’t be able to survive off his own fat stores in case of an emergency. We all were grossly underdressed: basketball shorts, long sleeved t-shirts, tennis shoes and zero cold weather gear. At the trailhead we saw a few other hikers in full winter coats, snow pants, gloves, beanies, headlamps, hiking boots, trekking poles etc. They exuded competence and preparation. We made the joke “Oh they must be from Florida” and must not be used to cold weather. They probably looked at us and thought “look at those idiots.”

Ya Jon, try to survive with that much water

We started strong hiking at a great pace. In the pitch dark our senses were heightened. The refreshing smell of pine in the crisp mountain air, the sounds of water rushing down the mountainside a few yards away…Ahhh this was going to be beautiful when the sun came up. Determined to make that ranger feel stupid for thinking it would take these incredible athletes 8 hours to get to the top, we made it above the tree line at record pace. However, reality quickly set in. I was nearly out of water, Scott had a stomach ache after slamming his Twizzlers in the first half mile, Tom’s headlamp began to flicker and Zack was still flexing his 6 pack (which is neither here nor there). No longer protected by the trees, we were exposed to freezing temperatures and 30-40 mph winds. Our pace slowed and we started to get quiet. We reached what is called the Boulder Field at about 12,400’. Freezing cold and spirits decimated, we started to look for shelter. We scurried around until we found a cave fit for four. If we cuddled up and shared our body heat until the sun came up maybe we’d survive and could carry on. In the cave we even found a mysterious jacket either placed there by The Lord or was the last remains of a dead man. Regardless things were looking up.

Unfortunately not even the miracle jacket could save us. After an hour of pure hell we gave up. We were too cold and too miserable. One by one we emerged from the cave and began our walk of shame down the mountain. As we passed fellow hikers on their way up they inevitably asked of our well being. The look of defeat must have been obvious. Slowly we descended down. Down through the pine trees. Down past the mountain streams still barely visible. Down until we reached the parking lot, the sun finally peaking over the mountains. One last laugh from the Almighty above. Failure.

Here we were 10 years later. Zack recently became a dad and couldn’t make it. Tom, for reasons unknown, claimed he wanted no part of redemption. But Scott and I were determined to give it another try. Hearing about our quest, Scott’s friend Tate decided to join and promised to drag our corpses to the top if needed.

Our journey began with a 3 a.m. departure from Colorado Springs. We arrived to a full parking lot forcing us to park about a half mile down the road. A small hiccup but I’m sure we found a way to blame Scott. We snagged a photo at the trailhead and then we were off to the races. After the parking mishap, I turned our frowns upside down by landing several hilarious jokes. Scott, trying to one-up me, quickly brought us back down to earth with a couple lame jokes of his own garnering only one sympathy laugh from Tate. Some things never change.

Scott and Tate emerging from the tree-line

After climbing above the tree-line the sun showed its face and reignited our fire (which was previously put out by Scott). We were treated with insane views of the Diamond.

The sheer face of Longs Peak also known as “The Diamond”

We soon entered the boulder field. Seeing this massive rock field in the light of day, we decided it was most likely the place our first attempt ended. We couldn’t locate the exact cave we cuddled up in but so it goes.

Here it became less of a trail and more of a scramble. Our first mini challenge was climbing up to the Key Hole.

After crossing the Key Hole we emerged to arguably the scariest part of the route known as the Narrows. One wrong step could earn you a Darwin Award. Admittedly, I was a little too scared to take photographs during this portion.

After successfully avoiding death on the Narrows the mountain rewarded us with an absolute brutal climb to the peak. Tate excitedly showed off his youth and athleticism by sprinting to the top while Scott and I crawled at a snail’s pace. For me this was the most difficult stretch of the hike.

After an excruciatingly long and difficult scramble we reached the 14,255’ summit. We had our redemption. I wanted to cry tears of joy but I could really only think about the inevitable knee replacement I’d need afterward. We rewarded ourselves with a summit beer and a much needed rest.

After snapping some photos and resting up we began the long hike back down the mountain. I always forget how unforgiving the descent is on your knees.

Tate had entirely way too much energy and decided to “gallop” down the Narrows.

Scott and I scooted on our butts the majority of the way down.

Two hobble-sticks descending the Key Hole

The relief felt from surviving our initial descent was short lived. With Scott about to crap his pants from his jerky binge, my knees buckling with every step and Tate sick of constantly waiting on us we were all ready for it to be over.

After prairie-dogging for 7 miles Scott finally reached the privy

I’ll be honest, the last 3-4 miles was pure misery. Even the beautiful scenery could go screw itself. We were exhausted and nearly out of water. Tate, the pure saint that he is, offered to hike ahead to the car and pick Scott and I up at the trailhead. He took off in a run while Scott and I cried for mercy. We slogged along without speaking a word to each other.

Scott and Tate patiently waiting for me to catch up

Somehow we persevered and finished the dang thing. Was it worth it? At the moment of completion the answer was a definitive no. We were exhausted, sunburnt and in pain (minus Tate who was cheerful as ever). Scott and I both had full foot blisters and will inevitably lose a couple toenails.

Too tired to even stop and eat we drove the 2.5 hours back home. Our adventure was complete. It feels great to officially close the Longs Peak chapter of my life : )