Last Hike in Colorado

For about two weeks I was either hiking or backpacking in Colorado late in September 2012. It took me almost that long to acclimate to altitude over 11,000 feet. So I spent a lot of that time feeling awful whenever I'd crack the 11K-foot mark.

Finally, by the time the main part of the trip was done, I was over my altitude sickness. On our way back to Denver to catch our flight, we stopped one last place to climb a mountain. I've forgotten the name of the mountain, but it's just outside of Durango.

Because I had lost about twenty pounds and that my lungs and innards were finally accustomed to thin air, I pretty much flew up that mountain. We'd gone there to see what we'd been told were epic stands of aspen trees. And, true to the claims, we found the aspens in large numbers, great health, high tops, and spinning gold in the sunlight.

I want to go back to Colorado some time and do more hiking. And next time I'll make sure that I acclimate more effectively to the high altitude.

I don't care what anyone tells me. There's something about the skies out west that makes the colors more vibrant.

The last mountain we climbed. Just outside Durango.

Summit area seen from an adjacent ridge.

Older pines along the trail.

The reason we climbed the peak--vast groves of aspens.

I hear that there is a grove of quaking aspens in the Dolly Sods Wilderness in West Virginia. Which would make it the southeasternmost grove of those tress in North America. I need to go back there to find it. I tried once, but failed to spot them.

How to Lose Weight

I found out the hard way last year that I am susceptible to altitude sickness. For some reason, it hits me after I crack about 11,500 feet above sea level. Back in 2010 I had hiked extensively in Yellowstone National Park, hitting peaks above 10K feet and feeling no ill effects of altitude whatsoever.

But, when I got to Colorado and started hitting really high (by USA lower-48 standards) peaks, I discovered that I do get altitude sickness. Really classic symptoms, too. Headaches, loss of appetite, dehydration, shortness of breath, nausea, reduced capacity to reason...most of the uncomfortable symptoms.

One thing about it, though...I lost a LOT of weight over the course of just a week spending most of my time between 11K and 13K feet. I pretty much stayed sick, so I had to force food down to keep from getting even sicker, and I was burning a lot of calories walking up and down those slopes at that elevation.

Another thing that I noticed is that I would awaken in the night gasping for breath whenever we camped at really high campsites.

Thus, the next time I go to such high country (and I'd like to do that in 2014...I've been looking at hiking in the Sierras in California), I want to make sure I'm in better shape than I was when I went to Colorado.

I think I weighed about 215 or so when I got to Colorado.

In Rocky Mountain National Park, on the flanks of the highest peaks in the Park, where I found out altitude sickness is some serious shit.

In the Mount Sneffels Wilderness a few days into the trip. I think I'd already lost a few pounds. Not much, but a few.

Coming down from one of the high passes we had to hike. This one had been very close to 13,000 feet.

Lying in my tent one evening. Cold. Sick.

Toward the end of the trip. I think we had one full day to go. I'd lost about twenty pounds by this point. My belt was all but useless. Had it cinched as tight as it would go and had to cram a washcloth in my waist to keep it tight.

Altitude Sickness

Back in 2010 when I went to go hiking in Yellowstone, I was aware of altitude sickness and wanted to make sure that I didn't have any problems with it. To that end, I made sure to spend several days and nights strolling around in and sleeping at elevations at, or above, 8,000 feet above sea level. This I did before tackling any of the 10K-foot peaks on my hiking list.

During that trip, I never did suffer anything like altitude sickness. Or any kind of problem hiking rugged western peaks. So I figured I was among the lucky who arnen't particularly bothered by high altitude.

Boy, was I wrong!

Apparently my breaking point for suffering symptoms of altitude sickness is about 11,500 feet. Because whenever I'd get to, or break that level in Colorado I'd get sick.

The first time the illness manifested in me was on the hike to see Chasm Lake on the shoulders of Long's Peak, the highest summit in Rocky Mountain National Park. I began to fee queasy not long after we broke the treeline (11,000 feet or so), and began to get really sick the higher we went. My hiking companions soon had to leave me behind because I just couldn't keep up with them. Occasionally one would lag back to take photos and I'd crawl ahead, but they would catch up in due time.

At one point, when I was taking photos of a particularly spectacular view, Andy Kunkle caught up to me and I was quite literally babbling like a complete idiot. He was worried and suggested that I turn around. But I was just at the shelf of rock below Chasm Lake and by Jove I was going to climb on up and see that fucking pond!

And this is why altitude sickness is so freaking dangerous. Your judgment is impaired and you end up doing stupid shit that gets you injured or killed. I could very well have gotten hurt pushing on beyond what were my limits, but I did it anyway. Fortunately, I didn't get any sicker or hurt, but I continued to suffer from altitude sickness for most of the remainder of the trip, finally acclimating to the high elevations at the very end of my vacation.

Standing below this vast peak, like the prow of a ghost ship cutting through the clouds, I was very sick, but not too sick to be struck by the awesome beauty of the place. It was here one of my hiking pals found me babbling like an oxygen-starved diver.

And the big fool says, "Push on."

What I refused to turn back before seeing.