My calling to court did not arrive as a pink letter in the mail. Typically, jury duty might annoy me, but not this time. My summoning to the court occurred when I first laid eyes on the massive stone edifice, Courthouse Mountain—the most prominent peak in the Cimarron Range of Colorado’s San Juan Mountains.

I had seen Courthouse Mountain while spending time in Ridgway—it rises high to the east of Ridgway’s iconic hot springs. I had also gazed upon Courthouse Mountain from the summit of Mt. Sneffels several years back. Its allure had become too tempting to ignore. I high-tailed it out of Gunnison after a morning genetics lecture. I had not before been in the midst of the Cimarron Range, but I had heard excellent things from friends.

The easiest way to access the Cimarron Range is to turn onto a lengthy dirt road halfway between Gunnison and Montrose, just east of the town of Cimarron. From the turn, the dirt road looks nondescript, likely to end only in endless, drab sagebrush; this couldn’t be further from the truth. Perhaps this is why the Overcast Adventurers had not poked around this beautiful part of Colorado before. Driving south toward Owl Creek Pass, the landscape quickly morphs from uninspiring flora to a vista of exceptionally striking mountains. I couldn’t help but frequently pull over to take pictures.

Autumn had started its walk down the runway of the seasons, showcasing its radiant colors among the many large stands of aspens. On the drive, I occasionally recognized some of Colorado’s tallest peaks to the far south that the Overcast Adventurers had climbed before, especially Uncompahgre Peak, the tallest summit of the San Juans. As I approached Silverjack Reservoir, the myriad twelve- and thirteen-thousand foot mountains clawed ever closer to the empyrean.

Faulty and vague internet directions to the Courthouse Mountain trailhead left me scouring my Colorado atlas after arriving twice at an incorrect trailhead. Frustrated, I reminded myself that the journey was more important than the destination. With this in mind, I decided to not waste my time looking for the trailhead I had initially sought and started hiking a random trail that paralleled a rough four-wheel-drive road. Admiring my surroundings half a mile along the trail, I quickly realized I could see the singular shape of Courthouse Mountain behind me, and that I had parked very close to the trailhead. I backtracked and drove a bit north toward Owl Creek Pass, this time noticing the correct trailhead sign obscured by trees.

What Courthouse Mountain lacks in mileage it more than makes up for in elevation gain: round-trip, an excursion to the summit of Courthouse Mountain is a mere three and a half miles, but one must gain almost two thousand feet of vertical in under two miles to summit. This difficulty becomes obvious quickly after leaving the trailhead, where the route often mimics the pitch of a stairway. The way to timberline ascends through lush pine forest. I located a well-marked turnoff for the trail that would end at the summit, and continued the arduous trek up. While the forest had felt confining and claustrophobic, after the turn, I could occasionally see Mt. Sneffels standing fifteen miles away to the west.

As the trail crossed from Courthouse Mountain’s southeast slopes to its even steeper east slopes, the rampart of peaks guarding the east became ever more prominent.

The trail angled toward some of the cliffs that defend Courthouse Mountain’s summit before eventually bypassing these and encountering a steep, loose section marking the transition to the alpine. Chimney Rock, an aptly named geologic feature to the north, bellowed with imaginary smoke. Snow also started to occasionally litter the trail, adding to the difficulty of the climb. Mud made steep sections a little sketchy, forcing me to occasionally pseudo-crawl on the alpine grasses. I encountered steep talus, which was a relief compared to the steep, muddy trail. Crossing over the talus, the summit came into view, only another couple hundred feet above.

I slowly hiked up another steep slope to the summit ridge, the route’s unexpectedly tame crux—friends who had ascended Courthouse Mountain before me had warned of the vertiginous exposure of the summit ridge. This didn’t hold true in my eyes; only two small scramble-esque moves were required to top out. The marvelous summit welcomed me as the sun began to set. The brilliant hues of apricot and sapphire that the sunset blithely spilled across the landscape collided with the vivid golden aspen groves sprawling as far as I could see. Near the horizon, Ridgway was visible under the behemoth Mt. Sneffels. I had the entire climb and summit to myself. Euphoric, I rested and did my best to capture the unfolding moments before me with my camera. The shadow of Courthouse Mountain darkened the glacially sculpted valley below and to the east, below the jagged likes of Precipice Peak and Coxcomb Peak.

Immensely satisfied with my first foray into the Cimarron Range, I began to descend shortly after the sun had completed its exeunt from the stage of the sky. By the time I reached the trees, darkness had overtaken the mountains. My descent, given the normal paranoia of being stalked by mountain predators, was uneventful. My car’s seat-warmers were a delightful welcome-back at the trailhead. As I drove off, eager for the cider waiting at home, I did not bid the Cimarrons adieu; rather, I waved a see you later.

Until next time, my friends, stay adventurous.