Longs Peak is a right of passage for summit freaks the world over; an essential “14er” that is so visible from Denver it compels many — locals and visitors alike — to attempt a hike that is likely beyond their skill level, both physically and mentally. I suppose I counted among those neophytes when I climbed this mountain on September 4, 2007. To be fair, I had summited one 14er before, Mount Elbert, so I was well aware the toll oxygen depredation has on the body. I also had my fair share of hiking experience beyond tree line. But to be honest, Longs Peak was beyond my physical abilities. I pushed well beyond my comfort zone and should have turned back before the top. I blame the very real phenomenon of summit fever.

I began this 15 mile round trip hike at the recommended time of 3 am, which should allow time to summit and get back down below tree line before afternoon storms crop up. The estimated hiking time is 12-15 hours, and I would need every last one of those to return to my vehicle. Joining me on this adventure were my friends David, Aparna, Jen and Scott. We agreed to hike at our own individual paces and would meet up at the point at which the trail turns from hike to climb: the keyhole.

Sunrise from the boulder field on Longs Peak

I felt great those first 5.5 miles, slowly gaining elevation to rise well above tree line by sunrise, to be greeted by the immense presence of the aptly named boulder field. Pictures do not do justice to the size of the boulder field, nor to the level of concentration needed to slowly wind a path between and over rocks without twisting an ankle.

The boulder field, keyhole can be seen in the distance

The keyhole up close, notice hikers in it for scale

The keyhole is where this hike get real. The previously well defined trail is replaced by a series of “bullseyes” — concentric yellow and red circles — painted on rock faces that somewhat guide you on a path that avoids a fatal fall. An average of 1 hiker per year perishes on this trail, a fact that is not lost on me as I peer over the edge of a 1000 foot sheer drop. I’ve come 6.2 miles and 3825 ft of elevation gain so far, and the hike has only begun.

Bullseyes mark the trail

After scrambling and route finding for another hour and a half I arrive at the base of The Trough, a 600′ couloir with an ill placed chockstone at the very top. Apparently many people turn around here (the success rate of summiting Longs Peak is only 47%), and I understand their thought process completely. Prudence be damned I carried on, consuming the better part of an hour to put the Trough behind me (actually, underneath me).

Top of the Trough, looking down

My prize for boldly going where many have gone before was The Narrows, a place where the people who didn’t turn around before should really reconsider their decision. To say this narrow ledge is intimidating is like saying Kayne West at an awards show is over confident. The ledge narrows down to about 3′ wide, which doesn’t sound bad until you realize it’s a 500+ foot sheer drop on one side, and some very poorly placed rock outcrops on the other, forcing you to cling to these rocks, spiderman-esque, while you inch to the other side. Well, that’s one option. The other option, one that yours truly honed over a long and successful career as a caver, was to squeeze under the rock outcrops, flat as a pancake. While not as impressive looking as the clinging-to-the-side-of-a-mountain option, it seemed more in my wheelhouse as someone who strives to avoid pits of doom.

The Narrows

You then arrive at the homestretch, an innocuously portentous choice of phrasing if there ever was one. Picture in your mind a 275 ft long, 45 degree slope of rock, still damp from overnight rains, where the lower stretch ends in an abyss. If you slip and fall here and gain a little downward momentum, it’s over. My most salient memory of this climb is the line David uttered when he saw me in a precarious position with no upward, no sideward, and poor downward movement options: “that doesn’t look good”.

The homestretch, looking up

The homestretch, looking down

After a little more scrambling I finally arrive at the top, which is somewhat anticlimactic as it’s the size of a football field, and just as flat. I feel like the top should be a jagged pinnacle of rock, requiring tenacious grip from tiny fingers and toes.

Mike at the summit of Longs Peak

I lingered for a good 45 minutes, basking in the sun and my accomplishment before I realized this grueling hike is only 50% done. The only problem is that I, from both a physical and mental aspect, am 90% done. I took exactly 0 pictures on the 7.5 mile return journey because capturing moments for posterity was the furthest thing from my mind. I literally focused on nothing but my next step, for another 5 hours.

I only have two concrete memories of hiking down from the top. The first was the feeling of hopelessness upon arriving back at the boulder field. Yes, I know that all scrambling and exposure are over at this point, but I still have 5.5 miles of “regular” trail and 1 mile of boulder hopping before me, and I am well beyond my threshold of exhaustion. The second memory was the distance from the “1 mile left” sign to the parking lot was not 1 mile. It cannot possibly be a mile. The sign lies. It’s the only explanation for the prolonged agony of aching muscles and parched throat that seemed interminable; every step was not bringing me closer; I was questioning my route finding decisions; was I lost? That final mile took me 3 hours to hike in my mind (in reality it was only 20 minutes).

The mental toll this climb exacts cannot be overstated.