The Sawatch Cowpoke

Before You Read This: Written in short as an explanation to myself why I pursue climbing and alpinism as much as I do, this short excerpt was something that I had written offhand. It is proofread, and subsequently lightly edited, but I meant for the original intention of the piece to speak for itself. It is not meant as a response to anything, to call out anyone, or to explain anything to anyone other than myself. It is not meant to mirror anything in pop-culture or otherwise. Meant simply as something to read and reflect on. Enjoy.     -Trent Hillier (06/20/2021) THE WEIGHT OF GOALS My eyes are welling up with the weight of tears as I process the thoughts that I must go through in order to communicate the lifetime of dreams that I have chased. There are a distinct lack of words, or otherwise that I find at the very inkling of an effort exerted towards being able to give even a shred of the emotion that I felt in the limelight of each sunset, the warmth of each morning sun, an...

I choked on the glob of bile mixed with snot that had coagulated in the back of my throat. I hacked it up a little, and then spit it out into the open space beneath me.   I was in the middle of what would become the “crux” section of the route that we had chosen to explore that day, a half boulderfield-ridgeline jaunt across a section of the Tenmile Range that was oft looked upon, but rarely contended with in this area, let alone this time of year. It was November 1st. I had gotten off work that morning from a less than expected pretty boring night shift. I met Matt Clark, my partner for the day, in the McCullough Gulch trailhead parking lot, the spot that hopefully, we would return to some hours later after a successful day plotting a new course across the Tenmile. We dropped Matt’s car at the trailhead and drove together in my 4Runner to the Mayflower Gulch trailhead, on nearly the exact other side of the range. Our route for the day was simple. Matt suggested roughly where we ...

To foreword the rest of whatever this becomes below, I would like to note a few key things. First and very foremost, I am not a good person. I am not an example of stewardship for the environment, or love for another. I am not sharing my ideas in this fashion out of a mission for self-righteousness. I am simply sharing my own observations in efforts that my voice, along with the culmination of the whole, will be able to resonate among the others and make a resounding sound that will finally be heard. Second of all, the information that is cited within this short excerpt is as accurate as me, a regular person searching information from scholarly sources on the internet and whatnot, is able to do. There may be information used from sources that will become or have recently become deemed “less credible” due to the turbulent nature of the global media industry and popular culture. Lastly, my words are not meant to be a warning, nor are they made to be that of admonishment for the human rac...

About 35 miles south of Leadville, and 50 miles south of Copper Mountain, Buena Vista does not attract very many climbers from outside the state, let alone the region of southern intermountain central Colorado. It is not a “lifetime” climbing destination for most people, if anyone at all. That’s the best part about it. Buena Vista lays at the start of the highest and largest valley of it’s kind, being at the front doorstep of the southern Sawatch range, and nestled in the area between the western-most parts of the Sangre de Cristos and the eastern terminus of what could be considered the San Juans. Where it lay at the northernmost area of the San Luis Valley, BV hosts a variety of rock. It’s unique crystalline features being the best part of climbing in the area. While many people skip over the area while heading south to Penitente Canyon, east to Shelf Road, or other similar San Luis destination climbing areas, Buena Vista hosts its own plethora of wonderful secrets. From the middle o...

  As the engine of my 4Runner hummed, I cruised along the stretch of road dividing open ranchland south of town between Leadville and Buena Vista. The red sun hazed by the wildfire smoke that had taken residence in our valley the past few weeks captured my attention beyond the high peaks of the Sawatch Range over the vast fields of scrub brush and sage. I remember nearly everything about the moment, including the faint hum of Led Zeppelin playing in the background through the janky bluetooth system I had jury-rigged to my SUV’s aging radio. The clarity of the memory is off-color for me, as I have trouble admittedly remembering specific insignificant details on most occasions unless specifically warranted, but the gravity of the thoughts that occurred in my mind I believe concreted everything in the moment. I was reflecting on the weeks prior to where I was then. A month ago seemed like years before, although the time between passed indiscriminately. A moment to me at that point cou...

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...