James Peak

In the wake of Sam's wedding, the time was ripe for celebrating Billy's return to the western frontier. It felt only appropriate that in celebrating his return to the motherland, we head into the high country. Our destination: the fabled St. Mary's Glacier and James Peak (in the James Peak Wilderness).

In times of old, this permanent snowfield has covered most of the hills surrounding St. Mary's Lake; enabling year-round ski turns for the young and young at heart. However, the two-for-one judo chop that was this year's heat wave and utter lack of recognizable precipitation had laid waste to the area's namesake by the time we arrived. What our research had suggested would be an abundant snow field that crawled with bearded backcountry fanatics was actually better described as a late-summer alpine wonderland... which, when given the choice between that and cleaning the apartment, I think we made the right choice.

What? This is usually a skiable feature?? ...I'll need to come back in a better snow year with a serious attitude.

Another look at the face from the north side of the lake. Even using our "if you get two turns in, it counts as a viable run" rule, this doesn't seem like ideal ski conditions.

If I had been less impulsive and more calculated in my wedding proposal, I would have taken Gigi here for a nice picnic. 

We took the short jaunt up the snowfield (there was a conveniently placed foot trail carved into the valley next to it, when conditions were too slick). At the top we found a suitable feat of strength for our first conquest.

Billy proving himself worthy of our adventure.

Yours truely - also crushing it.

Once our glacier pull-ups had been performed, we high-fived the high-fives of kings. The glacier seemed to agree that we were worthy of our day's adventure, and opened up to reveal a blue subterranean world of mystery.

The cavern cut out by moving water. The camera doesn't catch how radiant the blue light was that came through the ice. The chunk on the top-right corner was closer to the true color. It looked like you could walk down at least 100 meters but with the sun rising higher in the sky and the possibility of more hikers coming up the snowpack, this seemed like a poor choice to explore. One day, perhaps.

Once we topped out of the gully, the snowfield recedes and hikers find themselves walking along a high-alpine plateau of sorts. We had to cross this before coming to James Peak proper.

Taken from the side of James Peak, looking south across the tundra. We crossed the tundra coming from photo left. The hike across the tundra was easy and calm. I would recommend this area for a picnic (if the lake wasn't enough awesome for you).

Taken from higher up the peak. The flat spot you see peeking out above the ridge is where we walked. The glacier lies just on the other side of the plateau on the right side of the hump (left of the encroaching trees).

Taken from a shoulder along the way. Contemplating our humanity in this veritable salon of the gods.

[insert awesome summit photo here!]
Caption: We took a summit shot, but the main focus was our summit beer. Rather than taint the mountain majesty's memory with synthetic cookery, I've opted to encourage the reader to use his/her imagination. You'll understand when you're older. You're welcome.


To the south of James, there were four or five large bodies of water. Another group we met on the summit claimed to have made their approach up and around this water. Seems legit.

We followed an out-and-back route, so imagine the hike again but with brighter sunlight for post-summit images. Also, there were a LOT more day-trippers on the glacier on our way down. They must have gotten a bit slower start this morning than us. Slackers.

Our photographer, Jeffrey, at the base of the glacier. That beautiful face tells it all - look how much fun we had! ...They're so cute when they're that age.

Climbing, Camping and Reading: The Finer Things in Life

Since this is supposed to be a journal of my outdoor exploits, I suppose I should record the latest and greatest adventures. I started working at EXPAND since going up Mt. Evans in June. This, combined with the recent Waldo Canyon fire, has unfortunately detracted from my happy-being-outside-time. Granted, I do get paid to ride the water slides at Boulder's many pools with fourth-graders, its not quite the philosophical mindspring that I usually dedicate my summers to indulge from. A couple of afternoon climbing sessions and a single night camping at Left Hand Reservoir have been my only outings.

Part I: The highlights

Climbing with Nathaniel at North Table Mountain
- Bro-ing out in the sunshine
- First-ever lead climb. We took turns reaching various bolts along the way, and may or may not have zigzagged up three adjacent routes to reach our anchor, but we did it. Moral of that story is that lead climbing is intensely terrifying. It is a terror that I've come to more or less expect while climbing class V pitches but for some reason simply cannot get used to. I am consistently caught by surprise with how out of control I feel while hanging thirty feet above terra firma. The omnipresent voice that whispers soothingly, "I can't do it," is only matched by the rush and sense of self-reliance (not to mention a huge amount of trust in the belayer... its a great incentive to keep dinner conversations cordial when entertaining in-laws. I'd hate to be perilously hanging atop a crag only to hear a mischievous voice call up, "So tell me again exactly how badly my climbing shoes smell?" For the record, and any future reference, they smell of spring lilies and butterflies frolicking hand-in-hand in abundant sunshine) that prevails once the objective is achieved.
- Note to self - multiple Del Taco gut bombs prior to climbing should henceforth be considered a poor choice and avoided whenever possible.

Camping at LHR and bouldering at Mt. Sanitas with Gigi, David and Tiffany
- New sleeping bag, fresh from the REI garage sale (60% off) fits me perfectly and is much like laying in a cloud of coziness.
- This was the first time that my lovely hammock has come camping. Hammock overlooking the reservoir + badass sleeping bag + starlit sky = an orgy of good outdoorsy vibrations.
- Speaking of hammocks and outdoorsy vibrations, I had the opportunity to spend an hour or so with Gigi reclining in our hammocks near the entrance to the access road while we waited for our companions to join us. In my opinion, some of the most attractive traits that another human being can possess are the ability to sit calmly and contentedly among trees, literacy (bonus points for utilizing this skill for leisure, and further bonus points for not reading intellectual black hole material like dieting books, Sean Hannity/Bill O'Reily, or this blog), and if they are not someone who also enjoys hiking/biking/skiing/running/jumping/climbing trees, then someone who understands and accepts the impulse for another human being do so. I feel privileged and elated that my partner is a sexy beast that possesses all of those qualities and more.
- Bouldering was hot! Tiffid was good company for the excursion, however, and we celebrated a successful afternoon's adventure by taking a swim. I love fantastic afternoons spent with fantastic people.

The author and Gigi, enjoying a game of rummy. 

Dave enjoying some hammock love.

Awesome campsite.

Part II: Meditations

The Deck
I had the privilege to sit on my deck and smoke a cigar the afternoon after bouldering with Tiffid. Anyone who has ever candidly philosophized with me at any length has heard of the fabled deck at my parents' home. Although I've recently identified as a non-theist in many respects, there are certain locales that I hold in the esteem of Holy Places. Things so-called "decks" live in my mind among the fine company that comprises the centerpiece of the Holy Table at which my soul dines. As I sat in the comfortable shade of the deck at my current residence, my mind took a walk among the pines and my sense of Self washed over my thoughts.
Summer is the time in which I recharge; there is room to think and grow, to try new things and to lay things to rest. During the school year there is time only for academia but in the summer there is time to pause. I realized (only last weekend?!) that I hadn't yet returned to this annual pilgrimage. Sitting on my deck in the evening shade - after a weekend of camping and climbing - I sat alone with myself in the knowledge that I am Home. It is a beautiful thing, and a gift that I only know how to give or receive when in proximity to the calm that is life out of doors. Summer has begun.


On The Loose
Since reading M. John Fayhee's Bottoms Up early this spring, I've wanted to track down a copy of and read On The Loose by Terry and Renny Russel. It is a book that chronicles the two brothers' collected philosophies and photographs of their travels into the backcountry leading up to 1966. I found it devoid of the angst-riddled prose that I would have expected to come from brothers 19- and 21-years old at the time of writing. All I ever wrote about at their age was how angsty my angst was; these were pages compiled by persons of intensely considerable humanity. When I read On The Loose, it jived with my youthful impulse to go run/climb/hike/bike/experience every mountain and valley that ever existed. I haven't been out as much as I would have liked to recently, but its all good because I know that adventure is out there waiting to be found.
In reflection of their time spent together and out in the wilderness, I am left with this quote from page 83:

"Well,
Have we guys learned our lesson?
You bet we have.
Have we learned to eschew irresponsible outdoorsmanship, to ask advice, to take care and plan      fastidiously and to stay on the trail and to camp only in designated campgrounds and to inquire locally and take enough clothes and keep off the grass?
You bet we haven't.
Unfastidious outdoorsmanship is the best kind.

Adventure is not in the guidebook and Beauty is not on the map.

Seek and ye shall find."