The Sawatch Cowpoke

“Screw it, seriously just screw it.” I looked over at Jared from the other side of the bench seats in his black, 1994 Chevy Silverado, “I’m not holding back this year.” I shook my head and looked out at the twilight growing in the Southern California hills around us, “I’m not holding anything back this time.” Jared nodded quietly, pursed his lips, and then didn’t saying anything. I could tell he was thinking something in particular, but I couldn’t quite tell what. It had been a year. A year of insurmountable lows and mind-blowing highs. Funny enough, I started the last one in about the same place that we were at right then. Sitting in the passenger side of his truck, driving through whatever open hill country that was close to Yorba Linda in the heart of the Orange County countryside. Except this year was different. I was finally living somewhere that I wanted to be, surrounded by people that all pretty much wanted to do what I wanted to do. I was finally achieving some of the dr...

  I slipped on verglass in the low light off of my headlamp, “dammit!” I blurted out of my mouth. I could hear Matt giggle quietly in front of me. It was late September and both of us had decided to make a dawn patrol mission up the “Great Dihedral” (5.7 III) route on the central cracks of the northeast face of Hallett Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park. I just didn’t realize it would get that cold overnight, even this early in the fall around here. We continued farther up the scree of the slope off of Lake Haiyaha. In the low late-summer light I could make out the dark waters of the surface of the lake below us. The wind had not yet kicked up and the blackness of the lake looked almost like glass. We picked this route for several reasons. Not only did Matt have to work that afternoon and guide a few hikes around Moraine Park, but he also had a rendezvous for a backpacking trip on the western slope of the park that afternoon that I was a little jealous of. Why not add somethi...