Every day was (and still is) the same routine: wake up, go to work, go home, check condition reports, and go to bed with slight summit fever. Fortunately, my wonderful manager has been scheduling my weekends on weekdays. I had requested this for more solitary 14er hiking and climbing. My “Friday” was a Monday and after my shift, while my Denver compatriots and companions cooked delicious pasta, I made the impromptu decision to try my hand at Mt. Belford and Mt. Oxford the following day. The weather forecast for my weekend showed a higher chance of thunderstorms if I were to wait. Alfredo sauce aromas teased my nostrils as I hurriedly packed my Osprey Aether.

As I set my alarm for ungodly-hour-thirty, beset by self doubt, I meditated on a phrase Ty had taught me: audentes fortuna juvat—latin for “fortune favors the bold.”

As I left Denver at that ungodly hour, I felt surprisingly good. It had been quite some time since my last true foray into 14er territory. Chaffee County 390 road was in excellent condition and yielded no problems for my Subaru Outback. It took no time to arrive at the trailhead and prepare for the journey. Only three other cars were parked at the trailhead, and one appeared to be a Colorado Fourteeners Initiative vehicle. Thanks for all you do, CFI!

The sign at the beginning of the trail warned of the difficulty of a 6000′-gain hike. “I’ve done more in a day before,” I told myself. I’d regret that thought later. The hike starts in a somewhat somber mood as you pass by the gravesite of a one-month-old.

The inscription on the bronze plate attached to the tombstone read:

Vicksburg Cemetery

William Huffman

Born 1884

Died of Pneumonia 

One Month Old

Father was a miner and Mother ran a boarding house in Vicksburg.

 

Passing this, I found myself in switchback heaven—the easiest part of the hike. Although this was my first real attempt at Mt. Belford, I had been on this trail over a year ago before being quickly turned back by weather and illness. I soon passed the highest point I had made before.

The stream crossing was easy with the help of some long stabilizing branches others had left behind.

Higher up, I found the old mining shack ruins, and after that, the peak came into view.

As I approached, I could see the tiny dot of someone about halfway up the ridge. The ridge was certainly dramatic in stature; I took some time to hydrate and admire the mountain and the route I was determined to do.

 

The elevation gain took its toll on my quads as I continued.

I paced myself by taking three hundred steps, pausing to breathe, and taking three hundred more steps. Around 13,600′ the trail began to go in and out of small snowfields. Postholing was kept to a minimum, even on the descent a couple hours later. At first, kick-stepping was sufficient to prevent sliding, but I ended up using microspikes for a small section to conserve energy. I’d say they aren’t required, though. I grappled with my exhaustion; the altitude was ever-more apparent as I paced myself with fewer and fewer steps.

Unaware of the route, I was dismayed when my expectation that the flat spot on the west side of Belford be the summit (it kind of looks like it could when you’re ascending) was shattered.

No matter—I wasn’t too far off. The approach to the summit block consisted of a small snowfield, but I encountered no postholing.

I summited in about three hours and twenty minutes.

Mt. Belford was my 29^th summit and I reveled in my “halfway point” through the pantheon of Colorado 14ers. Weather didn’t seem to be deteriorating and the forecast only indicated a small chance of thunderstorms after 3pm, supposedly giving me four hours to get back below timberline. Wispy altostratus clouds painted the blue sky with white and no clouds of threatening nature could be seen. My legs felt dead already, but Mt. Oxford looked just so close.

I could see the tiny-dot person coming back toward Mt. Belford. I decided to go for it.

It’s a funny feeling knowing that every step down you take you will have to take back up later. And by funny I mean masochistic. It was just before the lowest point of the saddle that I ran into tiny-dot, who was now a full-sized person. We talked briefly and bid each other good luck and adieu. The ascent of Mt. Oxford from the connecting saddle was slow and arduous.

It was on the ascent that I began to notice cumulus clouds forming to the north. It was the sky’s proclamation of bad weather to come, so I tried to pick up the pace. The ascent of Mt. Oxford from Mt. Belford’s summit took about an hour. I spent little time at summit, snapping only a few photos before turning back.

Back again at the low point of the connecting saddle, I made my way into trouble.

The small cumulus clouds moved toward me at a steady pace and were developing into cumulonimbus clouds. As a rational and occasionally sensible outdoorsman, I knew I needed to make great pace to reascend Mt. Belford so I could descend the standard route to make it below timberline, but my fatigued legs had other ideas in mind.  Once I was walking on the uphill grade, I would get a charley horse about every five paces. I’d immediately be incapacitated. I massaged my legs, desperate and hurrying, giving them words of encouragement. Nothing seemed to help. Irked at my inadequate fitness level (and the incorrect weather forecast), I bit my lip, endured the vexatious muscle spasms and made it back to the summit of Mt. Belford around the five–hours-and-thirty-minute mark. At the summit, I could hear thunder roar out from around Mt. Harvard. With no time to spare, I put my camera in my pack and started jogging down the ridge.

Glissading was possible and I did it wherever was reasonable. I’ve never been so happy with a wet and cold butt. In my panicked rush, I never actually put my spikes back on. I was desperate to get back below timberline, but it was a happy desperation. It hailed a little bit but never actually rained or thundered again.

Finally off the ridge, I used my lifestraw in a small stream before easing back into a normal hiking pace. What a relief! It took barely any time at all to return to the switchbacks and, finally, back to the trailhead—around seven hours and thirty minutes after I had started.

I murdered an orange and headed to Buena Vista for a K’s burger. Post-14er K’s burgers are the only exceptions to my vegetarianism :) I stopped in Fairplay on my way back and napped in my car.

 

It was a humbling return to the mountains. The day was a reminder of not taking the forecast as gospel, the difficulty of 6000′ of elevation gain, and how much I love spending time on the peaks. Until next time, my friends—stay adventurous.