Hiking My First Fourteener: Why You Should Start Climbing Mountains
By: Shae LaPlace
A few weeks after moving to Telluride, a friend asked me if I would want to hike Mount Wilson with him, and a group of friends. My initial reaction was to jump on the opportunity. It was a fun, exciting outdoor activity, with new people. The excitement shifted to slight panic once I realized that Wilson was not only a Fourteener, but one of Colorado’s most difficult.
I am a confident hiker, but something about hiking one of the states most difficult hikes... with a group of boys well adjusted to high altitudes… yikes. I’m usually not one to let men and boys intimidate me. But in this case I felt physically inferior. I was slowly drifting towards the idea of bailing. Skipping the hike, and trying for my first Fourteener another time. My friend assured me that I would be fine. I’d be able to tackle the hike as well as anyone else. His confidence in me began to seep into my self-doubting brain.
Screw it. I told myself, if I don’t go, I’m quitting before I even try. Feeling like a quitter is something that my competitive nature simply cannot handle. I organized my things, and tried to get to bed as early as I could. Planning to be up and out of bed at 5am the next day for the hike.
I woke up in the pitch blackness of the morning. Fumbled around my kitchen to make myself a small cup of coffee and some breakfast. I shoved a bunch of completely excessive preparations into my backpack. Moments later, I got the call that the boys had arrived to pick me up. I heaved myself into the back of a ‘98 Bronco, filled with sleepy but stoked mountain boys.
The light of the sun began to creep up behind the mountain peaks around us. We wound rambunctiously on a dirt road through the woods. The sky became brighter and brighter. By the time we reached the trailhead the sun had risen. There was a nervous and excited buzz amongst the whole group. As we chatted, we realized it was everyone’s first fourteener. A sense of togetherness had now been established, and some of the nerves settled. We took a look at the map of the trail, and set out. Nine miles of walking, climbing, and scrambling over scree awaited us.
We began. The incline started gradually. Somehow, just after the first mile we were out of the tree line. The start of the trail instilled a confidence in me that I was prepared. I could, in fact, do this. The inclines became steeper. The trail narrowed. The ground was less stable. I kept my pace with the boys, it felt good. I was starting to surprise myself. It shocked me, but I was impressed with myself.
I had pictured myself struggling this entire hike. Here I was, keeping up with the fastest members of the group. The trail was becoming more dangerous. But I had hit my stride. With each step my internal narrative grew more confident. My thoughts grew increasingly positive.
We reached the end of clear trails. Scree fields with no clear path lay ahead. We debated on the safety of continuing. I was nervous. My thoughts were like a ping pong ball. Shooting rapidly back and forth about whether or not to continue. I felt confident for some reason. My competitive side was winning. I had made it this far.
The trail was long gone. It was bouldering and scrambling the rest of the way. My friend Jason caused a small rock slide. We watched massive chunks of rock tumble thousands of feet down the sheer cliffside. Naturally, the group was a bit shaken up. There was a long debate about turning back. Was it worth the risk? We decided yes, and charged on.
Finally, we reached the false summit. We had read about it, and been told about it. We knew it existed. What we didn’t know about was the gaping chasm that stood between it, and the actual summit. I saw the climb, and sat down and debated. Feeling tormented with fear, another member of the group was certain he wouldn’t do it. I felt comfort in knowing I wasn’t the only one who wanted to give up. But still the confidence that I had felt building the entire day up until that point… it grew louder.
I was so close. To give up now… a waste. I knew that if I wanted to keep the confidence that I had gained, I had to finish. I was so close! I decided to ditch my bag. I stood up and followed the others. My friend who had wanted to stop there, saw the girl who was afraid to come on the hike at all going for it. He stood and followed me closely.
A great deal of quivering muscles and heavy breathing later, I scrambled over the last few rocks… and all of the sudden, there it was. We had done it. I had done it. We were on the summit. The real one. Fourteen thousand two hundred and fifty two feet above sea level, there we were. Looking down at the San Juan range, mountains sprawling for miles and miles. They gave me a sense of awe, safety, and excitement. I couldn’t believe that my body had carried me up here. More so, I couldn’t believe that I didn’t think it could. An overwhelming sense of self-love and confidence washed over me. I looked down and saw all of the mountains that I could climb to achieve this same feeling.
The whole experience felt like sharp metaphor for my life. It was time I start climbing. Ferociously attacking the tasks before me. Taking chances in order to succeed. There is a world of mountains out there for me to climb. For all of us. Even when we’re scared, when we think we can’t make it to the top… we can. As cliche as it all sounds, we just have to start climbing. I wasn’t sure I could do it. With this new-found confidence I plan to climb many more mountains that scare me. Fourteeners, and the figurative, mental, emotional mountains I have been too scared to face in the past.
This experience has been invaluable to my development. I urge all the powerful ladies, and all the powerful humans who read this to go out and do something that really scares you. Take on a challenge. Hike your first fourteener before you feel ready. Apply to a job you don’t think you can get. Whatever it may be. You might surprise yourself. You embody far more power than you may think. Harness it, and climb.
