The Dog Who Took Me Up a Mountain by Rick Crandall & Joseph Cosgriff

Author:Rick Crandall & Joseph Cosgriff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Health Communications Inc
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8MOUNT YALE: OUR FIRST FOURTEENER

It’s a round trip. Getting to the top is optional. Getting down is mandatory.

—Ed Viesturs, No Shortcuts to the Top

Coming down off the summit of our first fourteener, Yale Peak.

Right up until the moment I blacked out and fell forward while gasping for air, Wednesday, September 12, 2007, had been one of the happiest and most satisfying days of my life. It had long been circled on the calendar as the day Emme and I would attempt a climb to the summit of Mount Yale, which would be our first attempt at a mountain summit higher than 14,000 feet in elevation. One of the so-called “fourteeners,” Mount Yale forms part of a group of almost-mythic granite peaks that continue to attract an ever-increasing mix of Colorado locals and mountain-climbing enthusiasts from around the world.

When Brett happened to have a day off and was available to make the climb with us, a day already circled on the calendar became even more exciting and meaningful.

From the time I arrived in Colorado back in 2000, it has been difficult to ignore the constant buzz about the “fourteeners.” One reason is that they rise above our part of the country the way the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, and neighboring skyscrapers tower above New York City. Another compelling reason for the notoriety is that the fourteeners are as high as one can climb above sea level in the contiguous United States. Want to bag a peak that is 15,000 feet or higher? That will require a trip to Alaska. In fact, there are only four states with mountain peaks over 14,000 feet—Colorado, Alaska, California, and Washington. (Utah’s King’s Peak falls a long home run short at 13,534 feet.)

Due to our work commitments, Brett and I skipped the overnight motel near the trailhead, which turned the outing into a day trip. The upside of leaving home in the 4 am predawn darkness was being treated to a two-hour light show through my windshield for which Colorado might think about charging admission to fund the state treasury. The billions of stars visible on the ride from Aspen over Independence Pass and into Buena Vista remind me of a high-tech version of the hokey Laserium shows that took the country’s planetariums by storm during the 1970s. All that was missing were the sweet-smelling herbs, an inexpensive 2-D laser machine, and a sound system playing Pink Floyd at volume 11.

Emme assumed her usual surfing position on the console of the 4Runner, her eyes always on the road, poised to alert the driver when he or she has missed a turn. After driving hundreds of hours on Highway 82 over Independence Pass to various hiking destinations, I have noticed she no longer simply reacts to the hairpin turns—she’s begun to anticipate them. Pamela’s theory about Emme’s console surfing—a performance she pulls off without seatbelts, straps, buckles, or deep claw marks into the upholstery—is that it’s a regimen of pre-hike balancing exercises so that she is ready hit the trail running.

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