Forever Above Us: Mt. Meeker and Long's Peak

My legs shivered. The room was dark. I woke up to my phone alarm halfway through it’s first crescendo. I shuffled slightly in my bed and illuminated the time on my watch. Three minutes past when my alarm was set for. Goodness was I tired. I got out of bed slowly and made my way to the bathroom as I shook both of my roomates, Isaac and Isaac, awake. Today we were going to conquer giants. By about 1:15AM we were out the door and in Isaac’s car on the way to the trailhead. To normal people, the absurdly early time that we had woken up at seemed crazy. To anyone meaning to summit the high peaks of northern Colorado without being caught in a thunderstorm, or something worse, this was a normal, run of the mill wake up call.

We had planned this peakbagging mission for a week before, collecting as much beta (information) as we could to pick the best route for what we wanted to do. We had made it our goal to summit both Mt. Meeker (13,911’) and Long’s Peak (14,259’) through a lesser-travelled path on the “loft” route. We chose the “casual” version of the loft route, opting to take our chances on the traverse without the traditional use of rope, skirting the knife’s edge of Mt. Meeker down to the “loft” between Long’s and Meeker, and then gently free scrambling our way through class IV and low class V terrain until we linked up with the “homestretch” section of the “keyhole” route up to the summit of Long’s Peak. In theory, it was simple, in reality, the route finding would be something that we certainly would need to pay attention to, that is until we hit the traditional “keyhole” route off of the peak of Long’s on our way down on the descent.

Parking at the already nearly-full trailhead, we hurried past several groups of bright headlamps on our way to our first orientation point at Chasm Lake. The incline on the climb up to Chasm was steady, but we were reasonably fresh, and more importantly, pretty excited. In hindsight, the excitement was probably the thing that kept us going the most. We made our way to the rising bluffs above Chasm lake, I checked the time on my watch. It took us only a little under an hour. I was impressed. We were really wanting this, and it got me even more jazzed to see the first summit off of Mt. Meeker. The mood was light as Isaac (pick either one) and I made fun of one another. Coming from Chasm lake, one has to be very careful to which side of the “ship’s prow” (the descending, large and dominating edge of one of the ridges that comes off of the face of Long’s) one choses. To the right, there is the approach to one of the classic alpine multi-pitch climbs of the Front Range area. Known as the “diamond” it earn’s it’s namesake from the shape that the massive wall takes when one looks at it from afar. To the left, we would find our destiny. As much as a good climb appeals to me just about any time, I wanted a two-for-one today on summits.

To the left of the “ship’s prow” ran a steep and loose couloir that leads straight up into the middle of the “loft.” We approached the start of the scramble, donned our helmets, adjusted our headlamps, and began the long and technical ascent into the darkness above us. One of two things have a tendency to happen during ascents in the dark of the early morning. Either it seems to stop time and take forever, or progress faster than I can think. This was one of those times that melded between the two. At times on the way up it seemed as though we’d never have to even stop, only moments later our progress would slow to an absolute crawl. The points that would get me the most were when we would get through a bomber-solid section of rock into nothing but gravel for another two hundred and fifty feet. It was funny, we realized just how untravelled this route seemed to be, as every time we would look below a faint line of headlamps would veer to the right of the “ship's prow,” past the “diamond” off to the more traditional and mellow “keyhole” route.

At about the midway point into our ascent up the couloir to Mt. Meeker, still in the very early-morning darkness, we looked above to see lights moving in the same way that someone wearing a headlamp would. Both of them looked peculiar though. One was much too bright to be just a normal headlamp that many mountaineers of the area, including ourselves would use. The other, gave off an unnatural orangey-flame red glow. The lights would move above us on the ridgeline, stopping and starting at first in a way that seemed to work with the contour of the land, and then eventually moving faster and faster over seemingly impassable terrain from what we could see through the darkness. At one point the lights evened seemed to fly over a rocky and technical traverse on a lower ridge than the summit, as if the owners of said lights we running. Yet at the same time, they travelled much to smooth to be carried by someone running or even so as walking fast over the violent terrain of the rocks above us.

No matter, as soon our attention would be averted once again to the near-constant process of route finding in the darkness. Right before us out of the shadow of the edge of the light cast off of our headlamps rose a cliff. We knew from the information we had collected before that we were now at the top of the couloir. To our left rose slightly a traverse that we would take over, and then climb from and scramble to the summit. The final push to the craggy knife’s edge peak of Mt. Meeker was lung-busting. Myself being a runner, I was accustomed to being without excess oxygen, but at this altitude it was dizzying. We could all certainly feel it. Cresting over the ridge at the summit of Mt. Meeker, my breath was taken away once more. Before stood the expanse of the Front Range and beyond past Long’s Peak. All of it was beautiful. All of it. In the early-morning alpenglow I could make out the scattered snowfields dotting the many peaks of the mummy range and the never summer mountains. Moments like this amongst the high peaks reminded me why I do all of this.

We gave ourselves a fair bit of time at the summit to enjoy the cresting sunrise, and soon began to move once more. Following the descending side of the knife’s edge ridge of the summit of Mt. Meeker, we traversed our way over to the opposing slope that lead down to the “loft” section between the two high peaks. The summit block of Long’s was ominous in the still low-light of the early morning glow. Above us rose another giant to conquer for the day, and the amount we still had left to climb was intimidating. I looked to both Isaac and Isaac and nodded with a smile. We were all still very much up for the challenge. Finally making our way to the open expanse of the “loft,” we kept our eyes wide open for the cairns that would lead us to the shelf on the opposite side of Long’s Peak leading to the “homestretch” route that would take us to the summit. The drop off to our right was immensely impressive. The cracks of granite descended below us for over 1,500’, giving a quiet, yet dominating reminder of just how small all of us were in the shadow of this massive rock-behemoth. I couldn’t help but smile.

We picked our way among the various outcroppings of rock on the cliff between the “loft” and the way up to the summit of Long’s. As long as one gave enough attention to proper route-finding and the like, the free scrambling kept a small amount of over-exposure. We were careful in our hand placements and steps, knowing the paramount importance of each one. Any sort of misstep or loss of balance could result possibly in a fatal fall from very high height. Every time one of us would make a move that was too lax, or seemed to not pay attention enough, another one of us would remind with the same comment everytime, “just be careful.” It culminated everything that I loved about travelling quickly and efficiently in the mountains, the fact that every move was important and needed it’s own attention, and in the same way, every decision was a controlled-risk. I was still very excited, running off of my own seemingly unending supply of adrenaline, but I needed to keep to myself in the back of my mind to not become too hasty in my otherwise careful movements.

We saw the fluffy, chubby, and awkward movements of marmots among the rock above us. It appals me everytime that a creature such as that could move with such efficiency and care among peaks, cliffs, and crags so high above the valleys below. To me, everytime they would hop from rock to rock on the summits of every mountain I had the pleasure of being on, I couldn’t help but think God so as intended them as jokes to mountaineers. I saw a flash of movement before me moments later and rose my eyes to meet those of a weasel no more than twenty-five feet away. He looked puzzled. Humans never seemed to travel this way very often. Not intending to intrude on his time to hunt for breakfast, I moved slowly to his right, and then above him as we continued on our way to the peak of Long’s.

I checked my watch. We were still making very good time, the morning’s chill had not yet left us. We were almost to the last section of trail before the peak, known as the “homestretch.” We could see many above us making their last few moves before the summit, and all three of us picked up the pace of our climb. Rounding the top of the deep and wide crack that ran to the beginning of the summit, we stopped for a moment. I looked down to Isaac beneath me. “It all changes after this,” I smiled as I spoke. He smiled back, “then lets go change.” We came over the top of the mountain and were greeted by one of the grandest views of all of northern Colorado that I had ever been able to see. I don’t really want to believe that I’ll ever be able to forget the moment. Sharing it with Isaac and Isaac was truly special to me. We each scarfed down a little bit of food, drank enough water to tide us over for the return trip, and took the “keyhole” route down. Passing each person, it made me feel just a little bit special inside that we had taken the “loft” route-casual up. Not very many people had gotten to take in the views off of meeker too right after sun-up like we had.

Looking up to the dominatingly massive summit block of Long’s Peak from outside of where I live now, I am forever given a gentle reminder of the time that we had taken up on that lofty peak. It stands as a monument among the other giant peaks surrounding it. Quiet. Solid. Forever above us.

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