Mount Yale

I was not planning to hike a mountain this year. My knee decided to spontaneously combust a year and a half ago, and at this point, I was doubtful that it would be up to the task of climbing, or more so descending, ever again. On top of that, I was working a fast pace job and trying to make the case that I should be promoted. Interviews could feasibly be scheduled any week in July or August. Running away, even if just for a long weekend felt like it could allow things to fall apart at precisely the wrong moment. 

However, when my agency told me that I wasn’t going to be considered for the promotion because I failed to jump through the most arbitrary of bureaucratic hurdles, I immediately decided it was okay to go away for a long weekend. Even if I only went a mile in and decided it was a bad decision, it would just be nice to have a break from the grind. 

Initially, I proposed Mt. Princeton. It’s one of the lower mileage climbs that is in relatively easy striking distance from Denver. I told myself, that if we drove as far as possible, I might be able to crawl my way through 6.5 miles. As the day came closer, I read through detailed trip reports trying to mentally prepare. Everyone read loose and rocky. Exactly what my knee hates.

I remembered that the 14ers initiative had done a lot of work on some of the collegiate peaks, so I began looking at other options. Mt. Yale had many reviews from folks saying it’s an easy to follow trail that’s in really good condition. Only problem now was that it was roughly 9.5 miles with 4,500 elevation gain. Still, if I was going to avoid injury this sounded like a better option. Less than 48 hours from the climb, I posed the change to Mike. I knew he’d be on board. He’s always asking to do harder climbs.

My flight was originally due to land DEN at 11:30am on Thursday, but Frontier delayed it by 6 hours! Thankfully they gave me enough notice that I was able to sleep in and work from home that morning. I had been assigned a middle seat, but the flight was half empty due to the delay so I slid over to a window seat. I looked out the window for most of the flight. Watching as we left the desert floor, followed the rivers to their reservoir lakes, then continued climbing up to the Mogollon Rim where the vegetation quickly changed to pinyon and juniper, across the high desert of northeastern AZ and northwestern NM, and onward into the rocky mountains. A lot of impressive western topography to see in a quick 2-hour flight.

On the ground, I began the trek through Denver International. When I made it outside I learned that Mike was a level below me. I looked for an elevator or escalator down, but instead, I found a staircase. Going down stairs has been a challenge for the last 18 months. I hesitated and took one last look around for other options. How ironic would it be if I injured my knee before I even made it out of the airport. I picked up my carry on and took a deep breath. If I couldn’t handle this, there was no way I was descending a 14er in 24 hours. I made it down without issue using an awkward hop-step move that I invented to avoid issues (patent pending), and made it down without issue. 

Off to a good start! I found Mike with his Massachusetts plates, and we were on our way. This would be Mike’s last mountain before starting Law School out east. Three years of schooling laid ahead of him, broken up only by summers of law office internships. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he might not be back out here next year. This had also been a factor in my decision to fly out. We talked about that and caught up on other happenings on the drive up.

We stopped in Buena Vista for a few last-minute provisions and made our way up 306 just as the last light faded from the sky. Despite the darkness, we found a fantastic dispersed campsite about 5 minutes up the road from the Mt. Yale Trailhead. It was spacious and near a crystal clear creek. When we shined our headlamps on the water we could clearly see rainbow trout swimming just below the surface. They were so absurdly close I’d swear we could reach out and grab them if we’d wanted. We set up camp and shared a quick dinner. Agreed to be up by 5:30am.

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Friday 8/11/23

We rolled up to the trailhead shortly before 7am and started the hike. I felt confident that I could handle the uphill, but less confident about the downhill that would inevitably follow. I set a pretty quick pace knowing that Mike is a fast hiker. The first mile was surprisingly flat. We crossed a creek and the climb began. I made a mental note of it. Despite the speed, it seemed like forever before we reached tree line. Once we did Mike took off. Summit fever strikes again! 

I kept a respectable pace going up, with only short pauses to catch my breath. I’d say I only took one real break on the way up and it was probably about 5 minutes. During my pauses, I would often look back down, and ask myself if I’d be able to handle the descent. The trail was in good shape overall, but there were a few spots that would be challenging. I kept opting to press on. My lungs fought me hard the whole way up. “My knee may give me hell on the way down, but at least I’ll be able to breathe,” I thought to myself. I arrived at the summit around 10:30am. I was proud that virtually no one had passed me on the way up. Mike was pleasantly surprised to see me and said that I’d made good time. He’d been there for at least a half hour, but they were kind words for me, a mere mortal, to hear.

I only spent about 10-15 minutes at the summit. I knew the hike down would be slow and I didn’t want Mike to have to wait for an eternity. I also knew that my knee performed better when it’s warmed up so best not let it cool down.

Mike was kind enough to stay with me for the initial scramble down until we hit real trail again. Back on the dirt, I watch him speed off down the switchbacks. I felt from the hike up that the upper miles were the most challenging. I decided I was at the most risk here so I took my time and leaned hard into my trekking poles.

I tried to alternate my steps, but it felt safer stepping down with my right (bad) leg first. It wasn’t long, and my left quad was quivering with mild Elvis Leg (as rock climbers refer to it). I was clearly asking a lot of those muscles and I still had a long way to go. I kept a similar strategy on the way down as I had on the way up: slow and steady. By the time I reached tree line I was starting the feel the muscles in my arms burning. The trail did not get better the way I’d convinced myself it would. It was in pretty good shape, but you know, still very much downhill. 

A handful of people passed me, but I was generally alone for the hike out. This made me feel more comfortable exploring ways to accommodate my knee, including hiking backward for steep rockless stretches and walking sideways down shallow staircases crisscrossing my feet as I went. There was no silver bullet, but the variety helped break up the grind and give my left quad a break.

I could not wait to find that creek, and promised myself a break when I got there. It felt like it was a full mile past where I’d remembered it. When I arrived I laid down, drank some water, and took a preemptive Ibuprofen.

I finally made it back to the car around 2pm. Mike was sleeping in the driver’s seat with windows down. I politely knocked on the doorframe to wake him up. His first words were” Wow! You made really good time!” I laughed and responded, “How do you know? You were asleep. You don’t know what time it is!” He’d gotten down around 1pm, which did make me feel pretty good. My knee had done really well, but I knew that if I hadn’t babied it the whole way it would have been much worse. 

We zipped back to the campsite and I waded into the ice cold stream as far as I could handle. I’ve done cold streams before, but this one was extra frigid. Rain clouds had been threatening for the past 2 hours and now drops were starting to fall here and there. Not really knowing where we were going we packed up our tents while they were still dry and headed back toward BV. In town we decided to head to Leadville for some pizza. Traditions. On the way Mike debated whether or not he should do another 14er the next morning. I pitched Elbert and Quandary. Two “easier” peaks in the area that I’d already hiked without him. 

In Leadville, the line for High Mountain Pies was long out the door. We decided to press on to Dillon for some fried fish tacos from Chimayo. Traditions. After the drive and a big meal, we were ready to call it a day. We made our way up Fry Gulch and snagged one of the last open dispersed sites. 

We went for a short walk along some of the old roads and trails that I used to patrol and maintain. Recognized the same old local guy poaching firewood with his maroon truck but chose not to say anything. 

Back at camp, I pulled out a deck of cards and taught Mike how to play Gin Rummy. Not always the most exciting game, but we had a blast. Two games in a row I came back to win when being very far behind. You play to 100 points, and in one game he had 99 points when I won. 

It drizzled on and off as we played cards under the back hatch of his SUV, but when we called it a night the stars were out and some of the most vivid I’ve ever seen in that area.

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Saturday

Slept in, booked a hotel for myself, more cards, broke camp, car wash, Mike’s first time eating Chick-Fil-A. Dropped off at hotel. Mike drove back to New Mexico that night. My flight was at 9am Sunday morning.