Summits always entice me, and Longs Peak is no exception. When I resumed my job in Denver, I became acutely aware of the fact that I could see Longs Peak and Mt. Meeker almost every day on my drive home. There it was, towering over Denver like a faithful guardian of the Front Range. Every drive home, every time I could see its alluring summit, it struck a resonance of desire deep within me.

On my way to the trailhead at 2:30AM, I rejoiced at the lack of people on the road. No cars to be seen on the way to the trailhead surely indicated a day of intermittent solitude on the mountain. The inaccuracy of this silly sentiment became apparent at the trailhead, where it seemed at least forty cars were already parked. I irascibly began hiking, immediately passing eight people on the trail. I made great pace up the trail, passing another twelve people or so before the Goblins Forest fork.

As I approached timberline, the interlopers dwindled. It wasn’t long until the summit poked its nose over the gnarly trees of the krumholtz.

Holy shit.

It was on my way above timberline to the Chasm Lake trail junction that alpenglow basked the peak in muted crimson. I admired the sight and took time to take pictures at the junction. It had taken me two hours to get there. Onward!

The way up to Granite Pass went just as expected, but I had incorrectly surmised that the Boulder Field was immediately afterward; I was woebegone on the switchbacks succeeding the pass.

I hit the Boulder Field after these and took  time for several pictures as I rock-hopped. Portions of the trail were covered in trickling water and alpine wildflowers decorated the small patches of grass between boulders like splashes of watercolor.

It took little time to reach the Keyhole, which I arrived at around the three hour mark, and I paused to rest and hydrate. It was below the Keyhole that vociferous winds caught my ears’ attention.

The Boulder Field was calm, but I could hear irate gusts past the Keyhole. This instilled some doubt in me—I certainly did not want to negotiate any exposed sections in high winds. I donned my windbreaker and hat and climbed past the Keyhole.

Follow the bullseyes! This is the mantra for those climbing Longs Peak and something climbers will hear a million times along the Keyhole route. The bullseyes are red and yellow painted symbols acting as cairns that graffiti the granite (something I dislike but will not elaborate on here). Despite some poking around the internet, I cannot confirm whether or not it was the National Park Service that painted these along the route, though they do resemble the center of the Colorado flag to me. Beyond the Keyhole, I followed the bullseyes along the Ledges.

The winds calmed as I maneuvered around the solid and smooth granite chunks. I entered the Trough.

According to the National Park rangers, around 15,000 people attempt Longs Peak every year. Since 1915, over 60 people have died on the peak. I saw a couple climbers—clearly callow—in the Trough, the unprepared tourists that I suspect are frequently the target of the mountain’s predatory side. These burdensome foreigners strike a chord of enmity within me. Their careless mistakes put other people’s lives in danger. I passed them on the tiresome strut up the Trough.

I found the most difficult section of the climb to be the block at the top of the Trough. It was here the biting winds greeted me once again as if I were an old rival. I exited onto the Narrows, heedless of the wind.

It seemed only at the transitional points of the route did I encounter the gusts: at the Keyhole, above the Trough, and later between the Narrows and Homestretch. The Narrows weren’t as scary as they were talked up to be, but I can imagine they get pretty congested and dangerous on crowded weekends. I scrambled up to the base of the Homestretch and assessed the last 350 feet of vertical.

From pictures of the route, I had expected this final summit push to be similar to that of Wetterhorn Peak, but the Homestretch was far easier. I scrambled up the final portion with celerity and stood tall on the summit. It had taken me about 4 hours and 40 minutes to summit.

Despite the near gale-force winds below, only faint breezes graced the summit. I walked the perimeter of the zenith and snapped photos from various vantage points. Mt. Meeker dominated the southeast view, a beacon of potential future “centennial” goals.

Chasm Lake, a destination for many at the trailhead, glimmered thousands of feet below. I spent 15 minutes at the summit before silently bidding adieu to the other score of climbers that I had joined there.

The way down, as had been described to me several times, was arduous.

It feels like the climb should be done once you have returned to the Keyhole, but over five miles remain after that. I switched on autopilot after the Boulder Field and power-hiked down. Surprisingly, below timberline, I only ran into a handful of other people: backpackers, day-hikers, and more tourists.

Longs Peak is a beautiful mountain and I enjoyed my time on it. When I see it from my drive home from work now, I feel some kind of fleeting achievement. If I had my druthers, the peak would somehow be kept less crowded. I extol the National Park Service for keeping such an immensely popular area devoid of litter. Regardless of my distaste, I understand the crowds and the allure. I just wish for everyone to be prepared and stay safe out on the trails.

 

To close, “my” own recipe:

Longs Island Iced Peak

In a cocktail shaker combine the following ingredients:

1 oz Vodka Fourteen

1 oz Stranahan’s Small Batch Whiskey

1 oz Montanya Silver Rum

1 oz State 38 Blanco Tequila

1 oz Cointreau Noir

2 oz Sour Mix
Strain and pour over ice then top with Zuberfizz Cola and garnish with a lime wedge. A true Colorado drink almost as classic as the Keyhole route.