There is something about reaching the summit of any hike or climb that takes your breath away. It’s not just the lack of oxygen and the elevation gain, the snack you treat yourself to on the summit, or even the incredible view (while these factors certainly contribute). Reaching the summit means that you have overcome obstacles, be it heat, cold, rain, blisters, bears or the like. For me, the summit was 14,150 foot Mount Sneffels and the obstacle was purely physical; I was several months into rehabilitation after tearing my ACL playing college soccer.
Years prior to this particular hike, I had summited Sneffels in terrible, socked in weather conditions, leading to disappointing summit views, slippery and unsafe scree scrambling, and frozen toes and fingers. I was back for what I thought of as revenge with the mountain, and despite my physical condition, I was determined to bag it again while visiting the Telluride, Colorado area for the summer.
Along with my friend John, I set out to summit Sneffels via the Blue Lakes approach, a different route than my first summit. John and I left the East Dallas Trailhead (about 10 miles from Ridgeway) around 10am to begin the long, yet more scenic route to the summit. We planned on making it to the Blue Lakes by early afternoon to set up camp and to reach the summit early the next morning.
The first twenty minutes of the hike, I felt glorious. I was back in my element. I had been doing some short hikes and had recently started running again, and believed I was prepared enough for what I imagined would be a relatively easy hike. After those first twenty minutes of feeling wonderful, reality struck. John, at 6-foot-something, had long legs that carried him far with each step. I, however, have average length legs and a short stride, on a good day. My legs quickly grew tired of trying to keep up, and after about an hour of pretending I was feeling as good as John, I asked if we could take a break.
At that point, frustration set in. There I was, in the most beautiful of places, doing one of my absolute favorite things, and I was feeling tired and grumpy. This quickly led to my feeling angry at myself for getting hurt in the first place and disappointed that I wasn’t as far along in my recovery as I had hoped.
I think John could sense my unspoken feelings, though, because when we started back up, he let me take the lead and began telling stories and jokes, asking me questions and reminiscing about our small town high school. We went to the same high school and had mutual friends, but graduated two years apart. We didn’t know each other back then, but when we realized we both were living in Telluride, we knew we had to become friends.
Before I knew it, I was appreciating the scenery, feeling more relaxed, and despite my tired legs, I felt great. After having a snack for lunch, we kept cruising and soon we were almost at tree line and finally saw the beautiful Blue Lakes. In order to avoid other campers as well as the bugs around the lakes, we kept hiking over a few steep spots until we found a small niche right at the tree line to make camp. I set up my little tent while John opted for his hammock, and we finally sat down to relax and enjoy the area.
Needless to say, it was beautiful. We were situated above one of the lakes and just below another, and the trees and surrounding peaks reflected in the clear blue water was an extraordinary sight. Approaching the mountain from the north and looking up at the impressive north face made us feel excited and accomplished. After using John’s homemade stove to make some yummy dinner and coffee, we bundled up for an early night.
When I woke early the next morning, I found my knee so stiff from the cold that I truly believed I wouldn’t make it downhill, let alone up the most difficult part of the trail to the summit. Feeling discouraged and nervous, I went for a short walk around a lake sipping coffee while John prepared breakfast. Warm coffee and the simplest of meals can really make a difference in your outlook, however; after both, I was feeling motivated enough to jog around and get a good stretch in before we hit the trail. Realizing my heavy pack with my tent and sleeping bag would remain behind at the campsite was also a lift off my shoulders (no pun intended) and we began the challenging hike with some pep to our steps. As John later put it, this part of the hike was the most boring and difficult. Short, steep switchbacks through scree seemed to go on forever. Breathing got more difficult and my knee was not pleased, as at this part of the hike, we gained 1,000 feet in elevation in less than a half of a mile. As difficult as it was for me, John seemed to feel like a million bucks, so I just smiled and tried to enjoy myself. This became easier as adrenaline from the views started to kick in. When we reached Blue Lakes Pass at about 13,000 feet, we chose to take the shorter and more difficult, Class III route up the ridge to the summit rather than take the longer, easier route up Lavender Col. This is where the hike became more of a climb, and John and I began to practically giggle with glee. After bypassing some large pinnacles, we found the notch and carefully continued upwards. After entering the upper ridge, it became a free-for-all as we scrambled and bouldered our way up. The exposure was terrifying, but once again, our adrenaline kept us going. We reached the summit well before noon and enjoyed some treats while taking in the views. At that moment, I felt on top of the world. If I could complete this long hike after tearing my ACL, what else could I accomplish? Anything! This was just the beginning of my recovery. And that, more than the elevation, more than the views, and more than the yummy powerbar in my pocket, is what took my breath away.
