The Mountains Remembered Me pt. 2

Sometimes you have to wander into the quiet to hear what life has been trying to tell you all along: you are not alone, and you never were.

Coming down off the high of Wheeler Peak, all I could think about was what was next on this adventure. It was something that was going to challenge me in ways I had never experienced before, and deep down, I felt like I could ride the momentum of Wheeler Peak into the mountain that came next—Mt. Lindsay.

A mountain that had been closed to the public for some time, but with the new waiver system in place, it was once again open to those ready to take on a Class 4 adventure.

To me, this was a new goal, a new peak to bag, and a new feat I would be able to embark on by myself.

But once I arrived to what felt like a good place to camp for the night, it seemed there were other plans in store.

Heading to this trailhead felt different. A portion of the road was on private land, creating a strange sense of tension, almost as if I were being watched. I kept thinking that if I made one mistake, the owners would be right there to catch me red-handed. But I pushed the thought aside, refusing to let fear take over after such a huge win at Wheeler Peak.

As I continued down the road, it became narrower, with a steep drop-off leading straight into the trees below. The road grew rougher, the rocks more jagged, and with every turn, another uneasy feeling crept in. Finding a place to park was tougher than it should have been, but after some time, I got lucky. It wasn’t much, but it was something, even if it was on a slight incline.

As I stepped out of my car, I looked up at the sky. A storm appeared to be rolling in, adding another layer to the growing feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. I sat outside in my little camping chair, fighting with myself over whether I should continue. Then I started seeing groups of people coming down the trail after completing the hike.

One by one, they came marching down like scouts returning from a quest. And that’s when it hit me. No one was doing this alone.

Every person I saw had someone with them to take on the treacherous climb and, more importantly, someone to have their back if something went wrong.

After about an hour of fighting with myself, I took that feeling as a sign that I needed to complete this one with a fellow hiker. I was slightly bummed by the conclusion, but I reminded myself that the mountains weren’t going anywhere. Maybe my gut was speaking to me for a reason, and I needed to trust it.

I’ll be back for you, Mt. Lindsay. You can count on that.

One for one, that’s how this trip has been after going with what felt best & I kept reminding myself that because I chose not to tackle this hike that I would not allow that to put a damper on my time in the mountains. The next trek ahead was going to be another challenge, one I could already feel from within, because it would mean checking off two 14ers in one hike—Oxford and Belford.

The second I made it to camp, I felt an instant rush of relief followed by a wave of peace. That feeling came even easier as I listened to the sound of a small stream rolling over the rocks behind my campsite. It felt like my own little oasis away from the world. The only thing that could quiet my mind was the quiet that nature brings.

“Nature is the purest portal into inner peace”
-Angie Weiland Crosby

It was an early wake-up call, just like most 14ers I go after, because I always want to see that sunrise in its purest form. I was both excited and slightly nervous because this was my first sunrise hike since my most recent solo Colorado trip three years ago. That nervousness almost instantly washed away when my longtime family friend popped his head out of his car at the trailhead. Ole Chris, better known as Topher, was ready to join me on what I quickly found out was only his second 14er!

He was more of a breathtaking view or sweet water feature kind of hiker, which this hike would hopefully have both of. Checking those boxes would have to wait, though, as we wandered into the pitch black.

We started with what anyone would do after not seeing a longtime friend for years—catching up on the basics of life. With the entirety of the hike so far being illuminated only by the glow of our headlamps, we couldn’t help but find some tiny pockets of silence. Those moments would later be filled with the views and sounds of nature around us, except for one small water crossing on a custom log bridge. Crossing over it gave us that little burst of energy we needed to get this hike going.

Step by step, we climbed higher toward the tree line, taking short breaks where we would click off our headlamps just to let the night be lit by the moon above. Something that had never really crossed my mind, Topher swore was an experience I needed to try. I’m thankful I did because it changed the way I saw the trail. What I thought would be a straight and narrow path suddenly opened up, giving me a different view of the beauty that existed in the darkness.

It’s a view not many would consider beautiful—darkness. It should fill you with fear when you look straight into it, but this time, it wasn’t the case. Instead, it became a gentle reminder that even though it may be dark on the path ahead, there is still beauty within that darkness. Through it all, you can find joy once more, no matter where you look.

Higher and higher, just like the sun, we climbed the steep incline toward the first peak. With each stop to refuel, we spotted little bits of light from the headlamps of other hikers embarking on the same trek, followed by the sounds of white-tailed ptarmigans saying good morning to the world. It wasn’t until we reached the saddle, where the sun began to break through the cloudy sky, that we knew this journey was going to be worth it.

“Just a random Thursday,” Topher said as we continued along the path, a running joke that kept our energy up the closer we got to the peak. Looking back, I realize how incredible it was to have someone along with me on a hike like this. Sure, you’re on the same trail as other strangers, but I had never really experienced having a friend willing to tackle this type of challenge with me, especially with the gusts of wind the weather began throwing at us on the final stretch.

14,202 feet later, Mt. Belford was officially crossed off the list, and what a rewarding view it was. The morning fog had overstayed its welcome in the depths of the valleys, looking almost like a bustling river rolling over rocks. This fog was paired with the flares of sunlight bursting through the partly cloudy sky in the distance. No words needed to be shared between Topher and me as we simply took it all in—the first of two peak views on the day ahead.

Down in the Valley at the top of Mt. Belford

At the peak, we were met by the other headlamps we had seen in the night. “Muy Frio,” one of the few phrases spoken to us by the man, was the first of three hikers we came across. He seemed a little more unprepared than most, simply out in nature for the joy it brought him. No GPS. No camera. Just a bag and a smile across his face as he spoke broken English to us.

This was someone who truly seemed to be out in nature not for social media clout, but for the enjoyment of the world around him. After some time, off he went toward Mt. Oxford with the same goal as us: to bag both 14ers. This encounter gave me a sense of hope that there really are people out here just enjoying themselves in the wilderness. We don’t need the loud world to distract us from what is right in front of us. With that, we set off toward the next peak.

This climb was much shorter than the first portion of our hike, and we were more than thankful for that. What we definitely weren’t looking forward to though was retracing our steps on the descent. The sun, now sitting above the distant mountain tops, began to take over more of the sky as the clouds dispersed above us. It gave us a completely new view from the previous peak, lighting up the yellows of the aspens below.

Both Topher and I couldn’t help but stop multiple times, either to stare at the beauty of the different shades of yellow or to capture the moment and hold onto the memory forever. We were joined by the other two headlamps at one of our stops atop the saddle between Belford and Oxford. These two were such an energetic couple, both telling us they were from Idaho and had only recently met at a passing coffee shop. “The Taters” was what we coined them since Topher and I were both terrible with names.

Their company was such a great exchange and a real reminder of how friendly the hiking community can be, even if you’re experiencing it alone.

The final ascent, the second 14er of the day, and what could truly be the “peak” of the hike was only minutes away. Looking back at the trail we had just walked, I was struck with disbelief and the thought, Did we actually come down from that?

You never realize the path you’ve taken until you look back and see the obstacles you’ve endured. After six hours of both incline and decline, we finally made it to the end of what we had set out to achieve: Mt. Oxford.

A mountaintop that could be described as the final encore of your favorite band after a long show, because what a show this hike had put on for us. The sky was on full display by the time we tagged this peak, highlighting every inch of the trees below.

“Thank you for inviting me on this, Mike,” Topher said as we took it all in.

The silence shared between us as two friends was more than enough to know that we were both experiencing the euphoria the view provided. I can’t completely speak for what was playing in Topher’s head, but what I do know is that I was finally able to look back on this trip as a whole.

This wasn’t just an ordinary trip to the mountains. I was finally able to feel like my old self again.

At the start, my mind was loud once more, just like many times before. I felt completely numb to the world around me, like I was moving through life in a husk of a body, simply completing daily tasks. But with every waking moment of this adventure, I chipped away at that feeling. I began to gain an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the people around me and how much they have simply impacted my life.

How you can fail at something and return with a head full of steam, determined to persevere through whatever challenge is thrown your way.

How you don’t have to do the things you love alone because there is a community out there with the same goal of completing a tough challenge.

But especially how, no matter how loud your mind can get, you will always find peace in the most beautiful places.

Some days are louder than others, but they aren’t loud forever. So when you feel like you’ve lost yourself, or that you’re beginning to lose who you are, just know that the peaceful days are there to be discovered once more. They never left. They’re simply waiting for you to return to them once and for all.

Sincerely,

Michael Koziol

“At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want.”
-Lao Tzu