The Sawatch Cowpoke

I checked my watch nervously for the third time in thirty minutes. I took a deep breath and continued up the slope from where I was standing in the middle of the blown-over skin track. I couldn’t help but feel like the cornice above me was going to let loose at any moment. I’m no genius, but I wasn’t going to be wrong that day. I had begun my journey up to the cirque from the trailhead a little after dawn, after dropping off a close friend at Copper Mountain for work. The stretch of the tenmile range I found myself in being a little ways south from I-70 towards Leadville. It was a bluebird day, and I couldn’t ask for much better weather. I just wished at the moment that it was a little warmer. I would come to regret that wish as the day dragged on. I was in the Mayflower cirque to claim the two peaks making up the south end of the massive bowl, starting up the southwest ridge I would scramble my way to the small hump of a summit that made up Drift Peak, and then continue upward...

I do at times have the ability to entirely baffle myself with the things that come out of my mouth. In a recent conversation this past Good Friday, I found myself, as I have quite a bit as of late, upset over the phone. It wasn't the person’s fault (they know who they are) on the other end of the line, it was mine. I just was not willing to admit that out of my own ignorance. I have the tendency to wrap myself “too much” into emotions, and at many times, I let those same emotions dictate the actions that I take. This is me admitting that is not a good thing. It is one thing to feel, it is another thing to let passion take over. Regardless, during the conversation, the two of us turned to reflecting on how God feels about the situation that we were addressing, and I found myself regrettably becoming even angrier at the mention of God in respect to all of it. The individual on the other end of the phone even reminded me “be careful what you say, He might just give you the ...

“Because it’s there.” -George Mallory (when asked, "why climb Everest?") Have you ever had someone tell you that you “weren’t good enough,” or that you “can’t do that?” If so, I’m glad for you. I genuinely am glad that someone took the time out of their day and yours to supply you with some of the best advice that you have ever received. They have just given you fuel to your “rocket” that in my mind, is worth more than gold. Of course, the advice that you take is different from the advice that they intended. This past summer, I had just finished a dusty, long, and hot trail run along the red-dirt trails that dart over and around the small mesas outside of Lyons, Colorado. The area is known for it’s mountain biking, but I had taken the time to drive down from Estes Park, where I lived, to get some lower-altitude vert on my legs. It was towards the middle of the summer, and I wanted to get a little stronger for the long approaches of the alpine climbing season th...

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...