Wednesday, July 28, 2004
An Adventure of a Lifetime
Mt. Harvard & Mt. Columbia Trip Report – 7.26.04
A whole day with no commitments? That could mean only one thing: here I come mountains. I settled on Mt. Harvard and Mt. Columbia as my destination. This would be my longest drive yet at two and a half hours each way. I have become very used to climbing with very little sleep this summer. The afternoon thunderstorms, which are as dependable as sunrise and sunset, demand the early start. I got off work Sunday night at 11:30. Esther and I talked until 12:30am and then I pulled my things together for the hike. Seeing as how these two were going to be my 10th and 11th fourteeners in two weeks, I have the whole getting ready process down to a science. I debated whether to drive to the trailhead right away or grab a nap first. Sleep won out, but not for long. I got two hours of sleep and was driving away from the apartment at ten till four.
I made great time since the roads were relatively empty. About an hour into the drive I realized I was going to make it to the trailhead about a half-hour earlier than I planned for. Seeing as how I was pretty bushed, I pulled off the road and set my travel alarm to wake me in thirty minutes. Between grabbing the power nap and the pre-dawn light starting to fill the sky, I was rearing to go. The drive on Colorado 285 to Buena Vista was really beautiful as I made my way through shapely valleys and over stately passes. Just as Mt. Princeton and the Collegiate Peaks were coming into my view, they were set ablaze by the first rays of a gorgeous morning. My faith in clear Colorado mornings was not dismayed, thankfully.
I have found that the drive to the trailhead of a fourteener has much in common with the trail to the summit itself. One begins on a highway, and as things progress uphill the terrain gets sketchier and sketchier. So too was the road to Cottonwood Pass. I think I still had all four tires on my car when I arrived in the half-filled parking lot. With not a second to lose I was walking away from my car and civilization in less than five minutes, 6:55am start time.
Today exemplified my hiking style at times: Man on a Mission. There were several miles of gentle uphill as the trail worked itself out of the treeline; I was determined to devour these miles. The contrast of cold and hot is striking during an early morning hike. My face and hands froze from the chill air while my body pumped out the sweat on account of the high effort output. I had covered the three and a half miles to the treeline by 8:05, opening up tremendous views of the mountains towering over the basin. I have come to enjoy eating God’s PowerBar on these hikes: the banana. With the goal within sight there was no need to stop, I peeled and ate as I worked my way up through the basin.
It was about two hours into the hike that I decided that I wouldn’t break at all before hitting the first summit. I had already passed a dozen soon-to-be summiters, and given the opportunity I’d be happy to pass some more. It’s never about the other hikers though, I push against my own body. I tell it to go as hard as it can go, and then tell it to go harder. I was intent on getting to the summit of Mt. Harvard in the fastest possible amount of time for Paul Kind on this day. And despite muscles that were attempting mutiny in the final push to the top, I believe I achieved that goal. Six and a half miles and 4500 feet of elevation gain in 2:55 minutes. Not bad, not bad at all. I can’t say I had the summit to myself; I shared it with a guy my age named Andrew and a couple curious marmots. Andrew and I were both spellbound by the incredible views in every direction. “There’s Yale and Princeton.” “Yeah, and over here is Elbert and Massive.” “You see that white one in the distance? That’s Capital…and Snowmass is right next to it.” Each peak was introduced as if it were a close friend.
In my fifteen minutes on top I took pictures, captured a short video, and refueled on some Combos. There was no time to linger; there was still much work to be done. I still had not decided about Rabbit Ridge. I had told myself that I would wait and see what the weather looked like before making a decision. Mostly blue skies, but some late morning clouds were beginning to make their appearance. I figured I still had a couple hours. The first half mile towards Columbia was decision time. After that half-hour I would have to go one of two ways: either drop down to the East by way of boulders and scree and then work my way up the North slopes of Columbia, or take the direct path across the extremely rugged Rabbit Ridge (so named because of the rock formation in the middle that looks exactly like a rabbit). The weather looked okay and I was feeling good. I decided to go take a look, I could always turn around or drop down if things got sticky. In fact I told myself I would not do anything that I felt unsure about (I had to keep that promise, too!).
Rabbit Ridge is mostly Class 3, with a significant amount of Class 4 thrown in, and one 5.7 down-climb thrown in for kicks. This is not your grandma’s ridge, and I knew this. I figured going in that I would traverse two-thirds of the ridge, come upon the 5.7 face, and decide to bail. But I was okay with that. I was also hopeful that there would be some way around or under or over that obstacle that would allow me to succeed. It wasn’t ease that drew me to this ridge, it was hard work! No, it was a combination of the challenge put before me and my new-found love for scrambling and technical climbing. I love using my whole body. I also love the demands on the mind. Between all that goes into route-finding as well as the focus that is put into each movement, it can be quite taxing. Vertigo-inducing drop-offs surrounded me on both sides as I worked my way past each obstacle. At times climbing vertically to discover a passable route, other times scaling across a face in order to get to solid ground on the other side, or even maneuvering my body along the very crest of the ridge if it was the only option. Each time I came around a corner or over a crest I would look onward with apprehension, fearing that the next leg would be impassable. At one point in particular I was all set to descend down into the gully, repelled by cliff faces on both sides. One final alternative presented itself, I found a crack that I could use to climb almost vertically to the crest, hoping that something might open up there. My last ditch effort succeeded, things were going well. I even remember having this thought about halfway across the ridge, “Even if I have to drop down or turn back, this has been so worth it. I love this stuff!”
One step at a time, or more often, one move at a time, I made my way across the entire ridge. Amongst an abundance of challenging obstacles, there was one that stuck out as particularly difficult and dangerous. This must have been what Roach declared to be the 5.7 down-climb. I won’t give the play-by-play, but I will say that I almost did something I shouldn’t have and I banged my knee pulling off what was eventually successful. That spot will not be forgotten. The weather continued to turn as I traversed the ridge, it actually sleeted and hailed about half the time I was exposed. I was thankful for hail and not rain, which would make everything as slick as could be. When I hit the shoulder of Mt. Columbia, I still had about 700 feet of elevation that needed to be gained in order to attain the summit. And I needed to do it as fast as possible, since I was hearing rumbling thunder from a front several miles away. Seemingly all energy had been consumed as I forced my exhausted body to propel itself upward. Somehow it responded. I was only on the summit of Columbia for about fifteen seconds. I had gotten what I had come for, and I didn’t want the lightning to come for me. I took 2 hours and 5 minutes from summit to summit of which about an hour twenty was the ridge itself. Although I knew in my head I had just accomplished probably the greatest feat of my outdoors career, I didn’t even take time to enjoy it. I was booking it off the mountain and down to safety. Little did I know I was in for two hours of hell.
The West face of Mt. Columbia is steep and covered with loose rock of all sizes. I had read how horrible the descent to the valley below was, I was not prepared for this. The couple thousand feet that I dropped in that hour and a half was basically one continuous “scree surf”. I fell backwards countless times, catching myself with now bloodied hands. The valley floor never seemed to get any closer. I was expending so much energy for so little gain. The down climb is supposed to be the easy part! I’ll move on since I’d rather not think of that time.
When I did finally reach the bottom, I had no clue where the side-trail was to regain the main trail. I did know that the main trail passed across the other side of the valley. Since the forest seemed pretty open, I decided to just bushwhack it across the valley to regain the trail. When I finally hit the trail a half-hour later I seriously questioned whether that was the best idea I had ever had. The forest was open enough, but the countless felled trees were a fatigued hiker’s nightmare. Then throw in a now steady downpour of rain, and you get slick logs and instant swamps everywhere. The sunshine and beauty atop Mt. Harvard seemed as far as could be.
If the last several miles to the trailhead hadn’t been downhill, I just might have had to bivouac in the valley that night. As it was I coasted my way down a now soggy trail for a little over an hour. Thankfully things had cleared up by the time I was taking my final steps towards the car at 3:25pm. An eight and a half hour expedition altogether, only a half hour of which I was not in motion. I was proud that I had made it to the top of both summits in 5 hours and 15 minutes, having hiked eight and a half miles, gained 5900 feet of elevation, and traversed the Rabbit Ridge.
As I thought back on the day during the drive home, it truly was an adventure of a lifetime. All out physical challenge, worthy goals set and accomplished, pushing new limits when it came to terrain, and braving all types of trail and weather conditions. What a day!
Picture Tour:
The trailhead was way down the valley out of sight to the left. I hiked up through treeline and eventually up the South slopes of Harvard (bottom right of the picture). The peak of Columbia is seen at the far left of this picture, Mt. Princeton is the peak just right of center, and you can see most of Mt. Yale in the far right. Notice the 40-45 degree slopes going down from Columbia to the trees, yeah, that's where I eventually came down (my path was down the farthest indentation).
Taken from the summit of Columbia. The summit of Harvard is the highest point of land in this picture. My route up pretty much followed the slope on the far left of the picture. From there it was a half-mile of following the ridge of Harvard down to the saddle. Then Rabbit Ridge, and up to the peak.
This is a beautiful shot of Rabbit Ridge and Columbia taken from the slopes of Harvard. It gives a better perspective on how long and rugged the ridge really is.
A couple different perspectives on Rabbit Ridge and Columbia.
A whole day with no commitments? That could mean only one thing: here I come mountains. I settled on Mt. Harvard and Mt. Columbia as my destination. This would be my longest drive yet at two and a half hours each way. I have become very used to climbing with very little sleep this summer. The afternoon thunderstorms, which are as dependable as sunrise and sunset, demand the early start. I got off work Sunday night at 11:30. Esther and I talked until 12:30am and then I pulled my things together for the hike. Seeing as how these two were going to be my 10th and 11th fourteeners in two weeks, I have the whole getting ready process down to a science. I debated whether to drive to the trailhead right away or grab a nap first. Sleep won out, but not for long. I got two hours of sleep and was driving away from the apartment at ten till four.
I made great time since the roads were relatively empty. About an hour into the drive I realized I was going to make it to the trailhead about a half-hour earlier than I planned for. Seeing as how I was pretty bushed, I pulled off the road and set my travel alarm to wake me in thirty minutes. Between grabbing the power nap and the pre-dawn light starting to fill the sky, I was rearing to go. The drive on Colorado 285 to Buena Vista was really beautiful as I made my way through shapely valleys and over stately passes. Just as Mt. Princeton and the Collegiate Peaks were coming into my view, they were set ablaze by the first rays of a gorgeous morning. My faith in clear Colorado mornings was not dismayed, thankfully.
I have found that the drive to the trailhead of a fourteener has much in common with the trail to the summit itself. One begins on a highway, and as things progress uphill the terrain gets sketchier and sketchier. So too was the road to Cottonwood Pass. I think I still had all four tires on my car when I arrived in the half-filled parking lot. With not a second to lose I was walking away from my car and civilization in less than five minutes, 6:55am start time.
Today exemplified my hiking style at times: Man on a Mission. There were several miles of gentle uphill as the trail worked itself out of the treeline; I was determined to devour these miles. The contrast of cold and hot is striking during an early morning hike. My face and hands froze from the chill air while my body pumped out the sweat on account of the high effort output. I had covered the three and a half miles to the treeline by 8:05, opening up tremendous views of the mountains towering over the basin. I have come to enjoy eating God’s PowerBar on these hikes: the banana. With the goal within sight there was no need to stop, I peeled and ate as I worked my way up through the basin.
It was about two hours into the hike that I decided that I wouldn’t break at all before hitting the first summit. I had already passed a dozen soon-to-be summiters, and given the opportunity I’d be happy to pass some more. It’s never about the other hikers though, I push against my own body. I tell it to go as hard as it can go, and then tell it to go harder. I was intent on getting to the summit of Mt. Harvard in the fastest possible amount of time for Paul Kind on this day. And despite muscles that were attempting mutiny in the final push to the top, I believe I achieved that goal. Six and a half miles and 4500 feet of elevation gain in 2:55 minutes. Not bad, not bad at all. I can’t say I had the summit to myself; I shared it with a guy my age named Andrew and a couple curious marmots. Andrew and I were both spellbound by the incredible views in every direction. “There’s Yale and Princeton.” “Yeah, and over here is Elbert and Massive.” “You see that white one in the distance? That’s Capital…and Snowmass is right next to it.” Each peak was introduced as if it were a close friend.
In my fifteen minutes on top I took pictures, captured a short video, and refueled on some Combos. There was no time to linger; there was still much work to be done. I still had not decided about Rabbit Ridge. I had told myself that I would wait and see what the weather looked like before making a decision. Mostly blue skies, but some late morning clouds were beginning to make their appearance. I figured I still had a couple hours. The first half mile towards Columbia was decision time. After that half-hour I would have to go one of two ways: either drop down to the East by way of boulders and scree and then work my way up the North slopes of Columbia, or take the direct path across the extremely rugged Rabbit Ridge (so named because of the rock formation in the middle that looks exactly like a rabbit). The weather looked okay and I was feeling good. I decided to go take a look, I could always turn around or drop down if things got sticky. In fact I told myself I would not do anything that I felt unsure about (I had to keep that promise, too!).
Rabbit Ridge is mostly Class 3, with a significant amount of Class 4 thrown in, and one 5.7 down-climb thrown in for kicks. This is not your grandma’s ridge, and I knew this. I figured going in that I would traverse two-thirds of the ridge, come upon the 5.7 face, and decide to bail. But I was okay with that. I was also hopeful that there would be some way around or under or over that obstacle that would allow me to succeed. It wasn’t ease that drew me to this ridge, it was hard work! No, it was a combination of the challenge put before me and my new-found love for scrambling and technical climbing. I love using my whole body. I also love the demands on the mind. Between all that goes into route-finding as well as the focus that is put into each movement, it can be quite taxing. Vertigo-inducing drop-offs surrounded me on both sides as I worked my way past each obstacle. At times climbing vertically to discover a passable route, other times scaling across a face in order to get to solid ground on the other side, or even maneuvering my body along the very crest of the ridge if it was the only option. Each time I came around a corner or over a crest I would look onward with apprehension, fearing that the next leg would be impassable. At one point in particular I was all set to descend down into the gully, repelled by cliff faces on both sides. One final alternative presented itself, I found a crack that I could use to climb almost vertically to the crest, hoping that something might open up there. My last ditch effort succeeded, things were going well. I even remember having this thought about halfway across the ridge, “Even if I have to drop down or turn back, this has been so worth it. I love this stuff!”
One step at a time, or more often, one move at a time, I made my way across the entire ridge. Amongst an abundance of challenging obstacles, there was one that stuck out as particularly difficult and dangerous. This must have been what Roach declared to be the 5.7 down-climb. I won’t give the play-by-play, but I will say that I almost did something I shouldn’t have and I banged my knee pulling off what was eventually successful. That spot will not be forgotten. The weather continued to turn as I traversed the ridge, it actually sleeted and hailed about half the time I was exposed. I was thankful for hail and not rain, which would make everything as slick as could be. When I hit the shoulder of Mt. Columbia, I still had about 700 feet of elevation that needed to be gained in order to attain the summit. And I needed to do it as fast as possible, since I was hearing rumbling thunder from a front several miles away. Seemingly all energy had been consumed as I forced my exhausted body to propel itself upward. Somehow it responded. I was only on the summit of Columbia for about fifteen seconds. I had gotten what I had come for, and I didn’t want the lightning to come for me. I took 2 hours and 5 minutes from summit to summit of which about an hour twenty was the ridge itself. Although I knew in my head I had just accomplished probably the greatest feat of my outdoors career, I didn’t even take time to enjoy it. I was booking it off the mountain and down to safety. Little did I know I was in for two hours of hell.
The West face of Mt. Columbia is steep and covered with loose rock of all sizes. I had read how horrible the descent to the valley below was, I was not prepared for this. The couple thousand feet that I dropped in that hour and a half was basically one continuous “scree surf”. I fell backwards countless times, catching myself with now bloodied hands. The valley floor never seemed to get any closer. I was expending so much energy for so little gain. The down climb is supposed to be the easy part! I’ll move on since I’d rather not think of that time.
When I did finally reach the bottom, I had no clue where the side-trail was to regain the main trail. I did know that the main trail passed across the other side of the valley. Since the forest seemed pretty open, I decided to just bushwhack it across the valley to regain the trail. When I finally hit the trail a half-hour later I seriously questioned whether that was the best idea I had ever had. The forest was open enough, but the countless felled trees were a fatigued hiker’s nightmare. Then throw in a now steady downpour of rain, and you get slick logs and instant swamps everywhere. The sunshine and beauty atop Mt. Harvard seemed as far as could be.
If the last several miles to the trailhead hadn’t been downhill, I just might have had to bivouac in the valley that night. As it was I coasted my way down a now soggy trail for a little over an hour. Thankfully things had cleared up by the time I was taking my final steps towards the car at 3:25pm. An eight and a half hour expedition altogether, only a half hour of which I was not in motion. I was proud that I had made it to the top of both summits in 5 hours and 15 minutes, having hiked eight and a half miles, gained 5900 feet of elevation, and traversed the Rabbit Ridge.
As I thought back on the day during the drive home, it truly was an adventure of a lifetime. All out physical challenge, worthy goals set and accomplished, pushing new limits when it came to terrain, and braving all types of trail and weather conditions. What a day!
Picture Tour:
The trailhead was way down the valley out of sight to the left. I hiked up through treeline and eventually up the South slopes of Harvard (bottom right of the picture). The peak of Columbia is seen at the far left of this picture, Mt. Princeton is the peak just right of center, and you can see most of Mt. Yale in the far right. Notice the 40-45 degree slopes going down from Columbia to the trees, yeah, that's where I eventually came down (my path was down the farthest indentation).
Taken from the summit of Columbia. The summit of Harvard is the highest point of land in this picture. My route up pretty much followed the slope on the far left of the picture. From there it was a half-mile of following the ridge of Harvard down to the saddle. Then Rabbit Ridge, and up to the peak.
This is a beautiful shot of Rabbit Ridge and Columbia taken from the slopes of Harvard. It gives a better perspective on how long and rugged the ridge really is.
A couple different perspectives on Rabbit Ridge and Columbia.
# posted by pk : 5:55 PM
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Wednesday, July 21, 2004
The Mountains are Calling
The intersection of my love for the outdoors and the fact that I'm living in Colorado this summer occured in a big way these past few days. In an eight day period I summited seven 14ers (14,000+ ft peaks)! Longs Peak on the 12th. Bierstadt and Evans on the 16th. And then Democrat, Lincoln, Bross, and Quandry on the 19th. Climbing Longs Peak was such an amazing experience that I couldn't get the thought of 14ers out of my head. I mean, they're just sitting there calling me to them. And I won't be able to answer that call once I leave Colorado in a little over two weeks. Now is the time for action.
Longs Peak above the Keyhole as well as Sawtooth Ridge (which connects Bierstadt to Evans) have been the most fantastic sections. The Class 3 terrain is such a blast. But possibly the most challenging climb to date has been Mt. Quandry, simply because it was my fourth of the day. Steve Yeakley, Melissa Ruder, and I were absolutely exhausted as we continued to haul our bodies up the never ending ridge. It was an incredible mental battle; all I wanted to do was lay down and take a long nap.
Why would I put myself through this? Why spend the time? I love the beauty of God's creation. There is nothing like looking out over valleys and mountains as far as the eye can see. I love the sense of accomplishment, knowing that I earned that view. I love the physical exertion and pushing the limits; seeing what I'm made of. I can't put it all into words, I just know I absolutely love it. I really wish I could share it with you.
So here's an attempt at doing just that:
An early morning shot of Mt. Bierstadt and Sawtooth Ridge rising above the mist and willows.
A self-portrait after having just completed my first ever multi-14er day: Bierstadt & Evans.
Rudy walking on top of the world.
The views were often expansive and astounding; here Steve takes the lead.
One definitely has to earn the enjoyment of such beautiful places on earth.
It surely doesn't have to be a 14er, but I urge you to fight for some significant time in God's wonderful creation. Whether it is a canoe trip down a lonely stream, a walk through wind-swept fields, or sitting on a deck overlooking a lake...it will change you. Get away from the busyness and allow God to speak into your life. You won't be the same.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Strength & Weakness
Day and night. Light and dark. Good and evil. Delicious and disgusting. Green light and red light. Contrast is something that surrounds us. From our formative years through to today, we have become accustomed to being immersed in dissimilarities. In the past couple weeks, I have recognized a striking contrast within my own life: Strength & Weakness. Let me break it down.
The accomplishment of summiting Longs Peak on Monday was an embodiment of strength, both physically and mentally. I began hiking at 6:15 in the morning, and before 11am I was 5,000 ft higher in altitude standing on the summit. I traversed boulder fields, hugged cliff faces, ascended ice fields, and scrambled up rock faces. My mind calculated each step as I plunged my ice ax deep into the ice. All the while I was surrounded by strength. My line of sight was dominated in every direction by rugged masses of rock that had somehow survived the beating of the elements over hundreds and thousands of years. And in that moment I felt even stronger. I was the conqueror. That day I was part of the elite group of summiters who had not been deterred, had not turned back. I was strong. My prize was a panorama of beauty that was beyond words. Before the day was done I had ascended and descended a total of almost two vertical miles of elevation change – much of it being class 3 terrain – and still was in Denver in time for dinner. No one could question the strength.
However, more than strength, this summer has taught me about my own weakness. I don’t know what all I can say, but I’ll tell you that for over 21 years of living I somehow eluded this lesson. I had a track record of very few complete failures in life, and where those had occurred extra effort was put in to turn the failures into successes. Here’s an example:
The accomplishment of summiting Longs Peak on Monday was an embodiment of strength, both physically and mentally. I began hiking at 6:15 in the morning, and before 11am I was 5,000 ft higher in altitude standing on the summit. I traversed boulder fields, hugged cliff faces, ascended ice fields, and scrambled up rock faces. My mind calculated each step as I plunged my ice ax deep into the ice. All the while I was surrounded by strength. My line of sight was dominated in every direction by rugged masses of rock that had somehow survived the beating of the elements over hundreds and thousands of years. And in that moment I felt even stronger. I was the conqueror. That day I was part of the elite group of summiters who had not been deterred, had not turned back. I was strong. My prize was a panorama of beauty that was beyond words. Before the day was done I had ascended and descended a total of almost two vertical miles of elevation change – much of it being class 3 terrain – and still was in Denver in time for dinner. No one could question the strength.
However, more than strength, this summer has taught me about my own weakness. I don’t know what all I can say, but I’ll tell you that for over 21 years of living I somehow eluded this lesson. I had a track record of very few complete failures in life, and where those had occurred extra effort was put in to turn the failures into successes. Here’s an example:
On one of my first days working in sales at a large sporting goods store I sold a total of $5 worth of merchandise. On that same day, in the same department, one of my co-workers sold over $5000 worth of merchandise. After being trained, working in the department for several days, and feeling as though I was getting the hang of things, it was in this culminating moment that I realized I was a complete failure. A measly $5, a piece of webbing I believe. I felt horrible that night. I actually thought about finding a different job. I began diligently researching product knowledge on my off hours, I asked that same co-worker to give me some pointers. Before long I was more than holding my own in the department. Failure was overcome. Weakness was not present; it was merely a lack of experience and knowledge.
But through some different circumstances this summer, I have been brought face to face with my own weakness. (Not everything shows up on the blog ya know?) I’m still dealing with the consequences of a cycle of bad decisions. In and of my own strength, I fell short. Without a doubt, I was weak.
Okay, so what? Why do you care? It is human nature to pick a side. Of a contrasting pair, one is better than the other. Light wins out over dark. Good will triumph over evil. How about strength and weakness? I think for a long time I had this one all mixed up. I thought that strength was the desired mode of operation. The problem with that is that it cuts God out of the picture. When we are strong, we shut God out, we don’t let Him show up. When in fact it is in our weakness that the God of the universe breaks through. When I come to grips with my weakness and begin to depend upon the Lord, all can see that it is God who is worthy. It is God who is ultimately strong. It’s not about me. So am I shooting for weakness so that God can be strong? No! Although I am striving to depend upon Him and point to Him in all things. I'm urging you to embrace weakness, and depend upon His strength. For He is worthy.
Okay, so what? Why do you care? It is human nature to pick a side. Of a contrasting pair, one is better than the other. Light wins out over dark. Good will triumph over evil. How about strength and weakness? I think for a long time I had this one all mixed up. I thought that strength was the desired mode of operation. The problem with that is that it cuts God out of the picture. When we are strong, we shut God out, we don’t let Him show up. When in fact it is in our weakness that the God of the universe breaks through. When I come to grips with my weakness and begin to depend upon the Lord, all can see that it is God who is worthy. It is God who is ultimately strong. It’s not about me. So am I shooting for weakness so that God can be strong? No! Although I am striving to depend upon Him and point to Him in all things. I'm urging you to embrace weakness, and depend upon His strength. For He is worthy.
"God works in those who live daringly, He ceases to work in those who do not need His aid."
-- A.W. Tozer
Monday, July 12, 2004
The Report from On Top of Longs Peak!!!
Chillin' at the Keyhole, part way up Longs.
Great view of the peak, while approaching the boulderfield.
The Trough, this icy chute is why the route is still rated as TECHNICAL.
The Narrows, there's no way one could call this a trail.
A thrilled summiter!
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Have you heard Paul get excited about something?
I wouldn't advice listening to this audioblog if you either hate sports or detest Greeks.
Consider yourself warned.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
Back to the "normal" life...
If you can consider living in a city for 3 months that I've never lived in before, with a guy that I've never known before, working in a job that I've never done before, helping out with a church that has never existed before, and all that is sandwiched between graduation from college and a multi-month trek around the world normal...then I guess this week was back to the normal life. I'm working the maximum 40 hours a week at Zio's and pulling in some good money. It is rare to have talks there with fellow workers that plunge to deeper levels, so having several of those over the past week has been a highlight.
The best part of my 4th of July weekend was watching We Were Soldiers . I really wasn't watching it for entertainment value, although it does have a gripping story line woven through it. The stark reality of this true story brought to life on my TV reminded me of the horrors of war, the price of a single life, the courage of so many who have gone before, the need for dynamic leadership at every level, and of course the brokenness of our world.
This past Saturday morning I was a part of inviting a couple thousand people to Summit Church. We had door-hangers that promoted the teaching series for the month of July, and hung them on about a thousand homes here in the community. It was a good experience, and I had a couple short but interesting talks with people out working on their yards. They varied from a guy who had been going to the local synagogue his whole life to another that was a devout Mormon. My take on things is that there aren't very many godless people out there. Ya know? The vast majority of people relate to the supernatural, to God, in some manner. The problem is that they are Christ-less. It's the role of the Church - meaning of course the people that make up the Church - to communicate the love of Christ in a meaningful and attractive way. Those who live that out are a part of furthering God's Kingdom...are you on board?
Oh, you'll notice just below this that I have now given you - the reader - the power to interact with "Updates & Ramblings." So do it, write stuff...whether it's insightful, playful, or simply a gesture of courtesy.
The best part of my 4th of July weekend was watching We Were Soldiers . I really wasn't watching it for entertainment value, although it does have a gripping story line woven through it. The stark reality of this true story brought to life on my TV reminded me of the horrors of war, the price of a single life, the courage of so many who have gone before, the need for dynamic leadership at every level, and of course the brokenness of our world.
This past Saturday morning I was a part of inviting a couple thousand people to Summit Church. We had door-hangers that promoted the teaching series for the month of July, and hung them on about a thousand homes here in the community. It was a good experience, and I had a couple short but interesting talks with people out working on their yards. They varied from a guy who had been going to the local synagogue his whole life to another that was a devout Mormon. My take on things is that there aren't very many godless people out there. Ya know? The vast majority of people relate to the supernatural, to God, in some manner. The problem is that they are Christ-less. It's the role of the Church - meaning of course the people that make up the Church - to communicate the love of Christ in a meaningful and attractive way. Those who live that out are a part of furthering God's Kingdom...are you on board?
Oh, you'll notice just below this that I have now given you - the reader - the power to interact with "Updates & Ramblings." So do it, write stuff...whether it's insightful, playful, or simply a gesture of courtesy.
