Feeling Stoked

Maybe the condition of being stoked could be summarized in the feeling of anticipation or consistently accomplishing what is normally absent in your day to day life through physical activity. I am starting to get stoked again. In 13 days a friend of mine and myself will embark on a 12 day trip that includes backpacking, trail running, road cycling, and general outdoor antics; all in the Southern Appalachians: my home turf. It has been since my birthday this year that I have been to "my mountains".
 

In these mountains my outdoor skills have developed and matured. When I am in these mountains I feel competent. I understand the hydrology, weather patterns, and terrain of these hills after hundreds of miles and years of hiking through them. The end of September could not be better for stable weather and cool conditions. I am so stoked. Let us just hope that this trip doesn't have one of those "oh shit" moments like my past few trips....

 -MG

How The West Was Won

There was a specific passage, not typed, but penned, in a small leather bound pocket book that ignited the euphoria of contemplating places beyond one's means or neglected treasures near home. The moments of drama and heroism recalled and physically committed to the paper: The Adventurer's Journal. For a moment it is held, possessed, and all the things it has seen, so have you. As an adventurer you are beside yourself by such a rare encounter.

I started my own Journal years ago when I took up outdoor recreation. My understanding of the value of such a work was juvenile when it began. The articulation devoted to the settings motivations, emotions, and consequences was weak and poor at best. Over the years I have matured, my awareness and ability to communicate what I perceive has grown. I hope to continue to share the times of elation and those of pain through this blog.

 Let me tell you, if even for a moment, "How The West Was Won". 

-MG

Redemption

Prior to my recent outing, the last time I engaged in over night outdoor activity I ended up in a state of overall discomfort. The weeks following that incident produced a fluctuating mental perspective of pride, as I reflected upon my courageous effort to survive, and dismay, over my complete failure of planning and foresight. An episode like this can easily cause one to incur two major points of view: I have to give it up, or I have to learn and continue. I sided with the latter and am happy for that. Over the past three days, I have had the opportunity to prove myself in the field and recover from the psychological hold of the North Half Moon incident.

One of my old friends decided to come on a short canoeing adventure with me to Black Creek in the De Soto National Forest in Mississippi. Arron and myself went canoeing in the past and I trusted his ability to provide power for the craft. The plan did not call for anything strenuous at all and was built around the parameters of leisure. It was determined that we would paddle up stream on Sunday and reach a nice sand bar no more than 1-2miles up river, and set up camp. On the following day we would leave camp to progress up river at our convenience, and float back to camp in the afternoon. For Tuesday, a short float back to the boat launch was all that was required. 

Aaron and myself met a few friends at a pizza joint in Wiggins MS for about 6:30pm on this past Sunday, and then departed for the launch at Big Creek Landing on Black Creek. It was just at sunset once we had the canoe in the water and all the gear loaded up. Darkness began to fall quickly and I grew concerned about paddling up river in the limited light. Luckily, a short 1/8-1/4 mile up river we came to a small gravel bar near the confluence of Big Creek and Black Creek and decided to make camp. Aaron set out to gather fire wood in the twilight and I pitched camp. By 8:20pm we had everything set up and ready. I was aware of how close the river was to our site but no rain was forecast for the evening and I was confident in the spot. In an attempt to keep myself from establishing a fear of sleeping outside, I chose to sleep out of the tent with only my pad, light blanket and bug net. Shortly into the night, while around the fire, as if in a state of de-ja-vu from Half Moon, I could see the milky way and flashes of lighting. North Half Moon taught me a lesson about the value of a tight and neat camp and realized that if it did rain, our small humble gravel bar could quickly and easily be washed out. The duffle bags were packed with any supplies that did not need to be out and the remainder of the gear was condensed and organized; everything was accounted for. I was not going to be running through the night in an emergency trying to get everything in order for a second time. The next step to prepare for the possibility for rain was to build an evacuation plan. I could load up the boat and go back to the launch or I could shoot for higher ground. Scouting out a flat area on the small bluff five feet above the river on our small gravel bar, an evac. site was found. The rain never came, it proved to be heat lighting that generated small thunder and I enjoyed a night under the stars. Throughout the evening I counted nine meteors and was fortunate to witness an amazing display of glow worms on the near by bluff. Without a light source to blind you, there were diamonds and stars from earth to sky. 

Around 11am we set out with a dry canoe and only food/water for the day. Mostly we were to have fun and hit a few swimming holes to escape the August southern heat, our real "mission" though was to collect dry wood. The gravel bar, which I named "Glow Camp" for the worms, had very little wood good for fires. The water became very shallow over one hard clay bottom not even allowing for a 1/4 of the paddle blade to be submerged. Getting out of the boat and hauling it upstream for about 20 meters was fairly fun. I couldn't help but think about how Lewis and Clark fought up river for so long over so much worse river than this. We found a large sand bar around 1pm and set up the hammock, ate "lunch" and relaxed. By 3pm thunderheads were growing all around. To protect our stash of dry drift wood we packed up and floated back to camp. The river had dropped about 6in since we arrived  yesterday and the light to moderate rain we encountered did not bother me much. By 6:30pm the rain dissipated and the sky was clear. A large fire was built at night fall and the bottle of rum made an appearance to the evening show. We pulled out the laptop to watch some saved cartoons: roughing it.

9pm: Fuel was needed for the fire so I went to grab some from our stash. At this point I noticed something very, very concerning: the river was at the foot of our tent and there was less than six feet of land between the bluff, where we were, and the river. Over half of the gravel bar was already under water. My canoe was only beached and not tied up was about to get caught in the river. Apparently, up river it rained like hell somewhere.The alarm was sounded. Rather than go up the bluff, through a massive thicket of poison ivy, I told Aaron we were going to cross the river to the large sand bar that was 30 meters up and across the river but situated about 8ft above the river on large sand dunes. It may have been the rum in me, wanting something "more adventurous", but I committed to the plan and did not look back. With the camp high and tight, I loaded up the canoe and broke down the tent, within 10 minuets, everything was in the canoe but us. The fire was still going but the river was starting to lap into the core. In an effort to make it easier in the elevated current and the fact that it was night , I decided two trips were needed, one for the gear and one for Aaron. 

Strict instructions were given to Aaron to keep the beam of my 300 lumen spot light on the landing zone up river. Using my headlamp at full output to see the river in front of me, I cross in the heavy current while fighting vigorously. Making a beach head I quickly run the duffle bags up the dunes and the remainder of the water and gear. Turning the canoe around to head back for Aaron I see the  dying fire and his light. Within seconds the current has me back at the barely discernible gravel bar that had been our camp the previous night. Aaron and myself cross with Aaron at point holding the light so we can see and I can paddle. At the beach head we begin to reset camp and see our great fire fade into the river. Shortly after we are high, dry, safe, and exhausted. A battle fought, a battle won, we slept. 

The Jeep was loaded up by 8am this morning and Aaron and myself found ourselves back in our fine city after a great adventure. The "training mod" of packing camp tight came into action the following day. It proved to be essential in our river crossing. This was one of the main lessons I learned from North Half Moon. The decision to go up the bluff would have been "safer" but I did not hesitate on my chosen initiative. At North Half Moon I debated my course of action for some time and it cost me. In the end I got what I want out of any camping trip: a potentially dangerous situation that requires skill carried out through decisive and calculated action to make it safe and fun. Sure, I could have crossed earlier in the day after the rain on a possibility of heavier rain upstream (a new lesson learned?)but I feel, that I hath been Redeemed... for now.

Incident Report

Date of Incident - July 7-8, 2013 1:20am

Location - North Half Moon Creek, Mount Massive Colorado. 11,800'

Victim - Michael Guastella, Male 25, 6.0' 145lb.

Major Injury - Stage II Hypothermia

Summary of Incident - In the early morning of Monday July 8th a low pressure system passed over the ridge of Oklahoma Mountain to the North West. The stable night time conditions deteriorated leaving the victim exposed allowing the victim to fall into hyothermia.

Detail - The evening of July 7th ended with stable air conditions over the valley of Halfmoon. An improvised bivy was set up on a rock slab about 50 meters from the tree line. The bivy set up consisted of a closed cell foam and inflatable air mattress, a 0 degree down sleeping bag, and an extra large tarp. There was no stable shelter provided by the victim prior to sleeping. At around 1:20am on the morning of the 8th the low pressure system moved in. Initially, Guastella assessed the danger as minor and took no immediate action to protect himself. The only precaution taken was to wrap the sleeping bag with his rain jacket and the excess tarp. By 1:40 am the situation had become more  serious as wind speed increased and hail began to fall with the light rain. The decision was made at this point to retreat to the tree line. Guastella had failed to check his headlamp battery  prior to the outing and was unaware that it was dead. Without a light source lightning strikes were the only guide to the tree line. On the descent to the tree line the victim slipped and fell on a number of rocks, on one of these falls the rain jacket was lost. The rain began to fall heavily further complicating the already dangerous situation. Having initiated the retreat hastily, Guastella failed to properly secure his gear from moisture. Although in possession of a water proof dry sack and a back pack with a rain cover, neither of these articles were used to keep his clothing or sleeping bag dry. As a consequence once he arrived at the relative safety of the treeline all of his clothing and insulation were saturated. At the treeline the victim was shivering intensely and eventually reached the point where shivering ceased. Reaching for his emergency blanket in his hiking pants and wrapping himself with the blanket, the victim rested on his closed cell sleeping pad. Guastella managed to find and light his stove in the darkness and beginning drinking warm water and consuming food. The sleeping bag proved to have some redeeming value as the thermal liner inside the bag was almost entirely dry. The victim used this for insulation and continuing to snack on food and consuming warm liquid made it through three hours of darkness until sunrise. At sunrise Guastella dried out his sleeping bag and proceeded to rest. Once awake the victim had major flu symptoms and was running a significant fever. After a few hours of recovery, Guastella hiked out to his vehicle.

Analysis and Conclusion - The issue of hypothermia arose from a failure to properly assess the danger in the weather conditions and once the danger was realized Guastella failed to properly use his current gear for his safety. In possession of a tarp that could have made applicable shelter, Guastella failed to even use it once at the treeline. Had he assessed the danger earlier and not waited 20 min to make his decision it is possible he could have pitched the tarp at the treeline and spent the night comfortably dry in his down bag. Where Guastella was successful was being able to identify hypothermia and treat it properly.

Ozymandias

It is almost 1am and I have been reading poetry for the past three hours. I eventually ended up regressing through history and making it back to the Greeks. Pulling out my  Edith Hamilton texts to research something on Homer, I came across a reference to the Orphic Hymns. There was a time in my life when I joked around about my religion being Orphic. My memory of these works had faded and I have forgotten some of the things I learned.


"To Thanatos, Fumigation from Manna.

 Hear me, O Death, whose empire unconfin'd
 extends to mortal tribes of ev'ry kind.
 On thee, the portion of our time depends,
whose absence lengthens life, whose presence ends.

 Thy sleep perpetual bursts the vivid folds
 by which the soul, attracting body holds :
 common to all, of ev'ry sex and age,
 for nought escapes thy all-destructive rage.

 Not youth itself thy clemency can gain,
 vigorous and strong, by thee untimely slain.
 In thee the end of nature’s works is known,
 in thee all judgment is absolved alone.
 No suppliant arts thy dreadful rage control,
 no vows revoke the purpose of thy soul.
 O blessed power, regard my ardent prayer,
 and human life to age abundant spare"

                                                         - Hymns to Orpheus, Trans: Thomas Taylor.

-MG

p.s - Incident report still coming.

Armistice

The past weeks chronicled here have been a steady campaign against my favorite adversary: Nature. A plan had been laid out once the goals of the expedition were established and I marched to my fate. My initial hopes for the trip were quickly stripped apart as I began to understand more about my situation. In the field, the battle was one of give and take. I had found myself in a war of attrition. In the mountains you never gain any territory, you only hold the land that is under your feet. Know where you stand, remember your training and hold fast. Endurance became a key element, both physical and mental. By the last week  I had become tired, I had become weak. In the end, I fought the wilderness one last time. Entering the arena, with a  lack of respect and an overall condition of "hubris", I was thoroughly beaten down. In the morning I would send for terms and an agreement of armistice would be reached. The status quo would be restored. I would understand that in these lands, governed by the Mother of Mountains, I am neither friend nor foe. That when I step into Her domain, I am only as strong as who and what I bring. She looks upon none with a kind eye, a blind justice, equality for all.

Day 33 - 07/07/13: North Halfmoon

Mount Massive is the second highest peak in Colorado and, right next to it is  Mount Elbert, the highest peak. This time of year the area is swollen with hikers climbing both mountains. Even worse the trail head for both is in the same spot. Just about a 1/4 mile down the road separates them. Both Massive and Elbert have undergone transformations in their ecosystems as a result of the traffic and there have been numerous attempts to re-route certain popular trails to diminish impact. On the road in I encountered tons of people. Looking at the map I decided to take a lesser used approach to Mount Massive. The standard route up massive is with the Colorado Trail and then the connection to the Massive summit trail. I settled on taking North Halfmoon Creek to the base of the alpine. At the trail intersection for the North Halfmoon Lakes, a shorter 2.5mile trail gains 3,200' vertical feet for Massive's summit. My plan was to loop hike the mountain by taking the standard route down and back to my Jeep. I planned for an overnight and packed light. I carried my 28L pack with one 10x12 tarp, a big agnes air core sleeping pad, Z lite sol SM therma-rest, 850fill 0 degree down sleeping bag, water proof dry bag for the sleeping bag, one set of wool baselayers, 1 extra pair of wool socks, one down jacket, rain jacket, para-chord for bear hang, x2 1Lwater bottles and filter,  esbit pocket stove with 4 solid fuel cubes, 1 dehydrated meal, granola, beff jerky, oatmeal, recovery and whey powder,  and gummy bears. Attached to the pack was my climbing helmet and Ice-Axe. I was wearing a poly, quick dry short sleeve shirt light weight quick dry pants, poly underwear, wool socks, GoreT Boots. Carrying one small medic kit and emergency mylar blanket, and wearing a lanyard with a whistle and compass. Pockets also contained my head lamp (that was dead), and my Kestrel weather tracker.(I have detailed this because it is actually important information if you want to understand what happened more than just know what happened) Halfmoon Creek and North Halfmoon Creek had some of the purest looking water I have seen in the mountains. The scenery cooperated also, I guess...

I reached the trail intersection of Halfmoon lakes trail and the summit trail for Massive. It was a nice meadow and close enough to the tree line to keep me safe through the afternoon storms. It was about 3pm and I was rather tired so I ate a bit and slept under a nice grove of pines with very thick cover. As the storms started to clear in the afternoon I found a place to pitch my set up on a nice flat rock in the meadow. The sky cleared and I watched the milky way appear. Deneb, Vega and Altair of the summer triangle gave me something to fall asleep to.

Day 34 - 07/08/13: Bring em' Home

I awoke at 1am to flashes of light, and a sky with no stars. It doesn't rain out here at night during the summer, so I thought. It made no sense. A series of poor decisions over the next few minutes and equipment failure leave me exposed while retreating to the tree line 50m away in the darkness. Mid retreat the rain and hail unleash and all of Zeus' fury. I made my way to the place where I had lunch and dinner. I was soaked and so was all of my gear. Shivering, I realize I was becoming hypothermic. Wrapping myself in my emergency blanket, lighting my solid fuel stove, drinking warm water and eating food, for the next 3 1/2 hours until I could see the slightest light in the sky, I made it through the night. Once I could see the ground I began pacing. The sun rose, I dried out my sleeping bag, and tried to get some actual rest in the meadow. It was good to get warm but once I awoke I was in full blown flu symptoms. I was already planning on one more week  for the trip and I knew it would take a few days to get healthy and a couple hundred dollars in a hotel room. It was better to just head home. I kept it as easy as possible descending back to the jeep and drove straight back. By Tuesday at 5pm I was home.


North Halfmoon from mumblefords on Vimeo.

* * * 

3,700 miles of driving, 35 days of travel outside of New Orleans, 11 summits attempted, 7 bagged, 2 rivers paddled. Falling short of a number of my initial goals it is easy to become "upset" but the above list is respectable. Looking at what I actually did and not what I wanted to do; it was a great trip. I am able to come home with a few thousand dollars that can go towards a new truck that could make these kinds of trips more comfortable. As unfortunate as the final circumstance was, overall I was ready to come home prior to this incident. I shot high, admittedly, and it was hard work to get what I did accomplished. In the next post I will offer a detailed Incident Report for what happened at North Halfmoon on Mt. Massive.That is why I was vague in the details above In truth I almost died, I made some bad decisions but knew enough to make it out. Knowing that deep down inside I have the will to survive and the ability to look beyond the peril of the current situation so that I may act, and not hesitate; that is the treasure I found in the Dragon's lair.

Week Five: Dirt-Bag Diaries.

In the outdoor industry and through outdoor culture no class is as coveted or as despised as the "dirtbags". They are an essential part of they system but also a complete tax on it. They hold deep wisdom of the area you find them but never seem to contribute to the actual economy that keeps it all running. Dirt-bag, an overly affectionate term, is a way to describe an outdoor vagabond."I heard the call, and within two weeks I had sold everything I didn't need, grabbed my (insert gear for climbing, mountains, paddling...) put it in my (insert subaru, turck, jeep, antique camper that is kept running only by hope, SUV...) , grabbed (insert animal companion) and headed for (Colorado, Oregon, California, Montana, Wyoming, Washington...)." It is a formula, a refined equation, that when all the variables are correct can create a situation of absolute bliss. It won't be pure bliss for others around you though until you figure out the variable of "paid showers". It is a homeless life perusing "the dream". Beautiful in its own right, freeing and highly rewarding. The skills of the dirt bag are in exploiting resources, and hence why they are not always loved. That $1.50 cup of coffee gives me three hrs of WiFi access? right? and I can sit in this really sweet leather wing chair? Maybe they will even light my cigar.

Day 27 - 07/01/13: Buena Vista

Poncha pass, going from the San Luis Valley into the Arkansas River Valley, was the only real obstacle I had to cross today. I was thankful that was the case. The past few weeks are starting to take their toll on me. I feel exhausted at times, mentally and physically. Sometimes its not just a psyche up before the hike, its actually on the hike. I am increasingly becoming concerned about my Jeep's ability to preform at altitude while hauling so much gear and it getting safely through this trip. In short I need a break; a vacation. In Buena Vista I have a good friend whom I used to work with at Masseys and seeing a familiar face for the first time in a month would be nice. Meeting up with Lilly after she got off work was great time to catch up and just relax. For a southerner I have a hard time accepting hospitality and, although, offered a bed to sleep in, I knew there were free camp sites just a few miles out of town. Free camp sites on the Arkansas River at that. 

It was all about the view all along though.

Day 28 - 07/02/13: Go Exploring

The Arkansas provided a great drone for a good night of sleep but I awoke in the morning to screams and shouts. After a while I got the idea of what was going on. "ON BELAY!" Just above the cliff on the other side of the road was a small trail head and a really nice rock face. A group of two instructors were teaching a summer camp group top-roping. It was about a 50 ft pitch. Nothing serious. Great holds and a very clear route. It looked like fun. After a quick breakfast and packing camp I drove up there and spoke with the instructors for a moment, not distracting them of course. They were with the local Noahs Ark, a Christian youth camp organization. Overall the kids seemed to be having a great time and everyone seemed to give great encouragement in the most harrowing moments of beginner climber apprehension. As I started my little hike down the small wash I could hear the echoes for quite some time.

If there was a trail out here I lost it immediately. I cant imagine ever getting lost out here honestly. The Collegiate Peaks are the most prominent land mark, being in excess of 14,000" and over 50 miles long, make for a great indicator of direction.

There were two major hills that dominated the topography of where I was and neither of them seemed to be more than 500ft in elevation from the floor. I decided to go for the highest of them. 

...and up!

At the top I was rewarded with views of the valley. I could see all of Buena Vista and the entire Collegiate Peaks range. From the small summit I could see what had been obscured by the ridge but on the other side was something to be excited about. Jeep Roads. 

Miles and miles of them. I could see group after group of jeep tours running through the area and I knew there must be something good back there. If I was really trying to relax and recover for a while due to exhaustion, going off trail and climbing hills was not the way to do it. Riding around in 1st gear at 5mph for a few hours on a back country road... now that sounds like relaxing.  Hell, while im at it lets go into town and get a killer lunch.  Coming back into town, I find the holy grail: A laundromat/paw shower with free WiFi and this was the point my enlightenment into the dirt-bag began.

Driving out there on the Four-mile Jeep Roads it hit me. I had already been dirt bagging it. I have been freeloading internet, living out of my car, lost all ambition for anything but outdoor pursuit, and was constantly looking for hot shower access. Contrary to common belief it is not very "rewarding" to regularly fetch snow melt river water in a container and sponge bathe with it in the morning. I would say... it builds character though. I wondered, what has happened to that clean young boy I used to know. 

Pitching camp for the night deep on the Four mile roads I found the trailhead to Buffalo Peaks, the highest points in the southern mosquito range. 

Day 29 - 07/03/13 

The Buffalo peaks are below 14,000 at about 13,500 and I figured it might be a good place to just hike and stay in shape for next weeks climbs of the the Collegiate peaks. I got out and on the trail early. 

I used to work in a nursery, as I mentioned in an earlier post, and the one type of plant I was eccentric about was roses. I loved roses. They demand special care and attention and produce a huge variety of styles. The on thing that I will never forget is the smell of all the wild roses out here. The fragrance carried, believe me.

After my off trail adventure the other day I felt pretty confident that I could navigate off trail in relatively easy areas. Being that I was in a mountain valley I figured I could not get lost again and decided to follow a stream running off the face of West Buffalo Peak to the summit rather than the trail to the summit. This proved to be a really adventurous idea and I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge even though I encountered aspen so thick I still have scrapes and scratches I'm still healing from. I made it to the alpine just fine, only to realize I was about 1/4 mile from my intended point. 

Once in the alpine though, I had no desire to actually climb. I could see the summit just about 1000' off and just had no ambition. It was rounded and easy to ascend but I was looking for a "challenge" or at least some bouldering. I was content with the views and decided to descend for my Jeep and to slowly drive back to Buena Vista for lunch and the evening. I found out that at ta local bar, the State Highway, that they were going to be holding an open mic. night. Later I would show up, watch everyone play and by 11:30pm they were done. In New Orleans Open Mic may go till sunrise and you are lucky to even get on the docket. I decided to volunteer my services and play a few tunes on the piana'. It went over very very well.

Day 30 - 07/04/13: The 4th of July

The previous evening I camped at the actual Turtle Rock in the Four-Mile complex and kept camp made for the day. It was so close to town I figured I could just head in for breakfast and the small parade that the town was putting on. More exciting was the 4th of July quilt show. The parade ended up being a bunch of farm equipment, kids, a group of republicans, and tons of Jeeps.

I do have to say, however, that people in Colorado do not understand parades. I won't go into detail but there were some inherent problems. After the cleanest parade I've ever sadly witnessed I met back up with Lilly and Brandon for a paddling adventure on Cottonwood Lake just a few miles out of town. For the first time on the trip I actually saw other canoes.

My companions to the lake decided to bring their companions and it made for quite a few laughs.

This was the first time they had put the dogs on the paddle boards and while they all got situated I got busy doing what I couldn't do at that excuse of a "parade".

I think I could live here. I really do. The dogs ran into a bit of trouble on the boards and we called it short for them. It was still a great afternoon on the water. Once back in town we parted our ways and I went out for dinner.Taking advantage of the pay showers, I called it a day. When I had found my way back to camp I was graced with some of the most sublime lighting and cloud play I had encountered yet. The fire ban in Colorado kept any fire works as a non-existent option for anyone and this show was nothing short of a "fire works" display in its own right.

Day 31 - 07/05/13:  Leadville

Thinking about what the best way to try to climb these peaks in the valley I thought it would be best to go as far North as I could and just work my way down. I decided to head up to Leadville considering I was feeling refreshed and ready to hike again. Leadville is the highest municipality in the United States at 10,052ft. At one time the richest city due to its mining operations and considered for the capital city of the state upon admittance to the Union. I found out that one of the major mines had recently re-opened mining molly (not that kind of molly you dam clubbers and ravers, moly like in cro-moly steel)

After spending the greater part of the day in the town I drove up to Turquoise Lake for the evening so that I might get in some paddling tomorrow.

Day 32 - 07/06/13: Leadville Challenge

Last night I had completed my enlightenment into the dirt-bag by sleeping in my jeep. I never thought I could do it with all the gear in my Jeep but I had to out of necessity. The campground I found myself at on Turquoise Lake had RV sites only. I could have pitched the tent on the cement but I was a bit lazy and apprehensive of that one. I ended up having an incredibly amount of discomfort and started watching crappy westerns on my laptop while drinking the rest of my beer. This was a good idea until I forgot I was above 10,000' and was getting seriously intoxicated.

By 8:30 I was on the lake paddling around. Turquoise has sublime views of Mount Massive, the second highest point in Colorado, and where I was going to start my climbing tomorrow.

The wind had picked up by noon and I knew it was time to pull out the water. I figured that I could break my dirt-bag habits and move to a hotel room in Leadville so I could try my hand at the "Leadville Challenge". The challenge consists of going to the bars on main street and drinking as much as you can. Most break fairly quickly due to the altitude. That is the real challenge, that most of us never drink at ten thousand feet. A hard fought afternoon and night; I had a hell of an adventure. I met a few of the bar owners and one of them from the Scarlet bar told me that my background in New Orleans meant I would be a "train wreck" very soon. I ran into an exciting individual that went by Roger Dogger. A fairly illustrious gentleman that had "run this town". He possessed a number of gang tattoos that he was not in short supply of breath to explain their origins or meaning. Quickly, it became apparent that this was someone I did not want to be in the company of with longer than necessary. After being asked if I wanted to go to Denver with him for the night so we could visit a "gentleman club", I casually and cautiously made my way back to the hotel to rest before heading for mount massive in the morning.

* * *

I spent the majority of this week doing "nothing". I relaxed when I could and achieved no real notable outdoor accomplishments. I learned something important though. Sometimes it is best to just look at mountains and that you don't have to be on top one to enjoy them. Sadly, and completely unknown to me at the time, tomorrow night would be my final night of the trip. By the end of next week I would be home, and partying in my home town, at some of my old haunts.

Lagniappe?

Buffalo Peak from mumblefords on Vimeo.