I vividly remember the first time I knowingly laid eyes on Mt. Ouray (pronounced ooo-ray).  Last summer, the Overcast Adventurers had the opportunity to explore the vast reaches of Colorado on a biology class trip called Ecoregions (a blog for which can be found here). It was on the first day of that two-week journey that we headed up to Marshall Pass—the trailhead for Mt. Ouray—to hike the opposite direction, reaching Headwaters Hill. On our way back to the vans, I remember Mt. Ouray peering down at me, intimidating and portentous.

What I didn’t know back then was that the summit of Mt. Ouray could actually be seen from my college campus located in Gunnison, Colorado. I had seen the peak for years while I walked to class and had no idea it was one of Colorado’s tallest. Specifically, Mt. Ouray is Colorado’s 58th tallest ranked peak, standing at a whopping 13,971 feet.

It was a somewhat impromptu decision to set out for the summit. A boring Labor Day weekend left me yearning for something to do, and it wasn’t until Monday afternoon that I hurriedly gathered my hiking belongings and jumped in my car. It took no time to arrive at the pass, and I set off up the trail forthwith. My goal was to be on the summit for sunset. The strut to timberline and the subsequent long ridge crest was uneventful. I noticed only sporadic sections of a trail below timberline, but felt confident that if I could ascend to the ridge crest in daylight, I’d find my way down at dark. I would later chide myself for this thought.

On the ridge crest, the sprawling Sawatch Range slowly came into view. I paused to take pictures. The summit of Mt. Ouray also came into distant view. Antora Peak, another prominent 13,000-foot mountain, rose to the south. Onward! I reminded myself. Following the rolling ridge crest, also largely lacking in a trail, eventually lead me to the west ridge—the final 1,300-foot ‘umphf’ of the route.
This was a taxing push, but not overly lengthy. I was able to avoid nasty sections by sticking as close to the ridge as possible, though this section certainly boasted the route’s “Class 2” qualities.

Topping out near sunset, I was greeted by the shadow of the peak stretching into the San Luis Valley. I spent time on the summit and watched the shadow grasping for the Sangre De Cristo Range, about sixty miles away.

Exploring the summit, I found strange ruins among the talus and manmade wind shelters. Though the sun had not yet dipped below the horizon, I embraced the sinking sun’s evanescent light, and decided to get a head start on my descent.

Everything went as expected and soon I was nearing the bottom of the long ridge crest at 12,200 feet. By this time, total darkness had shrouded the alpine. I started working my way down the steep slope to timberline and admired the visible Milky Way overhead. Soon, I found myself in the labyrinth of trees. I was reasonably close to the trailhead and the way back down was not complicated, but I started to second-guess where in the darkness I had ascended from. My mind began racing. No one knows where I am or would know I’m missing. Nothing looked familiar, and the surrounding trees blocked out any view of the nearby topography that might provide insight to my location. I’m probably at least twenty miles away from help.

Saying I was “lost” would be an exaggeration. “Temporary directional disorientation” would be a better way to put it. Am I going to have to spend the night here? I was on the verge of panic, despite likely not being in any real danger. I stumbled through thick sections of forest, branches scratched at my arms, suspicious I was going in circles. It only lasted twenty minutes or so, but to me, it felt like hours. Eventually, I used the Milky Way to ensure I was hiking in the right direction.

Returning to familiar landmarks, I sighed more profanity in relief, and jogged to my car. It was only a terrifying small hiccup at the end of an amazing day on one of Colorado’s tallest. Seeing it from my college campus now evokes a sense of accomplishment and gratitude.

Until next time my friends, stay adventurous!