The Sawatch Cowpoke

I could never put my finger on it growing up, whether it was the inability to sit still or pay attention to singular things for long periods of time, or if it was just the fact that I never felt quite right no matter where I was, but for some reason, I do believe that I have never felt ever really, truly, content.     That’s not to say that I have never felt comfortable. I’ve just never really ever felt content.  For most of my life leading up to now, that has left me with emptiness, resentment, and a growing source of anger within my own psyche. I’ve never been a docile person. Anger and aggression always has a way of contorting my emotions. Regardless of if I outwardly showed it or not, I felt upset often. If i’m honest with myself, which is something admittedly I should be more, I still get upset quite often. However, do not mistake that for me doing nothing in the face of a situation that I can full well rightfully change.     See, in the p...

My eyes searched the dimly-lit sky for other clouds than the large front before us. It was shortly before sunrise and Matt and I were nearly to the boulderfield below the summit bloc of Long’s Peak within our home of Rocky Mountain National Park. Above, the sky was split in half. Behind us, from the direction of the wind, a seemingly bluebird and open sky. In front of us, a thick pack of low-lying clouds. They would end up being our saving grace.     The two of us had been scheming this mission for quite a while now. It was the end of the winter here in the Rockies, or I should say at least the coldest part of winter (it proceeded to snow on/off for a few weeks after this). Matt and I had spent the entire winter looking up at Long’s from town. The north face and the diamond permeating the back of our minds anytime that we would have a clear enough day to take a gander. Each time that one of us would look up, we noticed something. The north face of Long’s, a steeper slo...

“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...