"ON THE WINGS OF EAGLES"

The first time Andrew and I tried climbing Pikes Peak was just before Christmas, and there was a little snow but not much. We made it about half way up, to the Barr Camp, which had taken us about 3 1/2 of steady climbing. We both had a small backpack. Andrew ended up carrying mine for me the last mile and a half - OK, maybe two miles. When I got there I was so exhausted and breathing so heavily I thought I would never be able to climb back down that day. In fact, I said as much to Andrew as I collapsed in a chair. But after resting for an hour and taking in fluids and nourishment I felt somewhat revived. When I saw the overnight accommodations (very rustic!) I decided to try going down. We made it down much more easily but I ached for days and couldn't even get out of bed the next day.

A few months later, in May, I was more accustomed to the altitude and had been playing racquetball every week so I was in better shape than when I arrived in the Springs. Andrew, always being in top form was ready to assault the summit the moment he arrived from graduate school in England. He was determined to make it to the top this time. I did not feel in top form so I told my wife, Marilyn, when I left her off at work at 6:30 a.m. that I was sure the best I could do was to get to the A-frame cabin at the treeline.

Andrew and I started our trek at 7:30 a.m. The weather was mild, overcast with sprinkles of rain threatening to dampen our walk but the temperature was in the low sixties. The first couple of miles of the trail were very steep as the path zigzagged up the mountain, gaining altitude rather quickly. That part of the trail took about an hour and a half of fast paced, calf-cramping, lung-bursting, heart-pounding, blood-pressure-stressing, my-head-is-dizzy, wondering-why-I-am-doing-this, kind of climb. Then we rested for 10 to 15 minutes, eating and drinking before continuing our upward climb. The path no longer zigzagged but became a steady upward grade as we moved farther and farther from civilization. The views of the valleys and the plains below where Colorado Springs and our home lay were spectacular and so we were refreshed knowing "this is why I love to punish myself to get up here." For the next several miles it was uphill with woods surrounded with beautiful boulders in odd formations. It was beautiful scenery! Then it leveled out (that is figurative since it never is really level) into a meadow-like area with views of the peak. Finally, after hiking almost continuously, except for stops to drink water, we arrive at the Barr Camp. The halfway point.

The Barr Camp is a rustic cabin where a family lives year-round to assist hikers on their way up Pikes Peak. The weather was now noticeably colder and clouds covered the peak. But there was no snow on the ground. We asked our host about the weather at the top. He radioed ahead and reported that there was sleet and snow in the forecast with wind. It was then that he cautioned us about even thinking about trying for the top. We mentioned that we wanted to keep climbing to at least get to the A-frame cabin at the tree line. His pessimistic report was that other climbers had not been able to get through. The snow was still far too deep. Reports had been coming in that it was still impassible even to the A-frame. They also said "we don't recommend attempting the summit, at least not without the right equipment (snowshoes, etc) because there are SIX FOOT drifts up to the timberline and then snow to the top." We said, "Ok, but we'll just go a couple more miles until the snow gets too deep - we'd just like to see it." We signed in the guestbook and said we would go up as far as we could if only to look at the snow and would check in on our return. We really intended to return. So off we went.

Soon we came across a guy with full equipment on his way down. He was a young looking guy, maybe around 30, built like Andrew. He had full gear; waterproof boots, trousers and jacket, cuffs around his ankles to keep the snow out, poles for balance and support, and snowshoes. He said, "Once you hit (such and such a spot) it becomes a virtual impasse. I couldn't even get through with the snowshoes - I kept sinking into the six-foot snow and it exhausted me very quickly, so I gave up at around 11000 ft. You can hike another mile and a half or so from here, but the summit's just not possible and that's about 6 miles from here."

At that point we were certain that we would never get very far. But we had already climbed to the Barr Camp once before so we wanted to at least get to the tree line (that is where vegetation stops growing, usually about 11,000 feet.) So on we trekked.

The path was pretty clear except for huge mounds of drifted snow that seemed to be only on the trail, not in the woods. We joked about the Barr Camp people piling the snow here just to stop us, or maybe they should get out here and shovel all this snow off the path so climbing would be easier! The snow on the path was deep but firm from being there a long time and trampled by many footprints. We figured, "Look at all the footprints. If others have gone this far, it can't be too bad." Then we came to what appeared to be the end of the normal trail. The footprints were still in the snow but they went in various directions. The well-equipped climber mentioned seeing these footprints too, but he was familiar with the trail and was certain they were not following the trail at that point. We later discovered he was right.

Being hearty stout fellows and lovers of snow we plodded on traversing the deepest snow as the trail (such as it was, only footprints now) turned to the right and steeply uphill. After a while it became obvious (when Andrew's leg went down into the snow up to his waist) that this was probably not the normal trail. We could see some fence wires along the streambed that we were following but no obvious trail. We climbed on, lumbering over soft places in the snow often up to our knees and then sinking to our hips. From time to time we could hear a torrent of water gushing down beneath the snow. This was obviously a stream we were following, but it was a wide treeless gully so we followed on. At times it became so difficult to get past the deep soft snow that we climbed over to the rocks and trees on the sides of the stream. There we jumped from rock to rock and climbed from tree branch to tree branch until it was again passable. Then we returned to the soft snow of the streambed. It was beautiful and we love snow. If we had a sled we would have had a really great time. In due time we came to an opening and could see the tree line above us. That spurred us on! At the tree line the view opened up so we could see the top of Pikes Peak. We could see laterally to the north and south of us too. Then looking back toward the plains we had a fabulous view of Colorado Springs far below us now. Wow! This view itself was worth the climb. We looked around for the A-frame cabin but it was nowhere to be found. But there stood the Peak right in front of us. We could still see footprints leading us onward. We stopped for a snack of dried bananas, raisins, and M&Ms on some large boulders. There the birds flew right up and grabbed nuts and raisins right out of our hands. This was a paradise!

Time to move on. As we surveyed our locale we decided to go up a little higher where we might be able to look back and see the A-frame we had missed. The higher we got the more beautiful it became. It was so quiet. You could understand why the mountain men had chosen to live alone in the wonder of these rocks and woods. By this time it was approaching 12:30 and we had to make a decision to go on or turn back. I was in favor of turning back having not found the A-frame and conscious of my tired legs and the long walk back down the trail. Andrew however, being young and energetic, and having come all the way from England with so very few chances to be this close to the summit, urged for going on and continue to the top. "Look, Dad, its right in front of us. Its not that far!" I cautioned Andrew that distances could be deceiving at these altitudes. But not wanting to ruin Andrew's hike, and not wanting him to go on alone (which he would have done I am sure) I hesitantly agreed to go for the summit. After all, we had all afternoon in front of us and the worst was certainly behind us. It did look rather close from where we were standing. (In fact, it was about four miles of a steep 45 to 60 degree grade to climb. It appeared so close because there were no trees or objects by which to judge distance.) There were also those obvious footprints we could see so clearly going straight up the mountain toward the summit. So "Dumb and Dumber" continued on.

Soon those footprints were no longer clear footprints. "Maybe they never were," we thought. The altitude does strange things to your mind. Now they appeared to be just pockmarks in the snow, but some had been footprints we were sure. The more we climbed the less clear were the footprints we had been following. Our breathing was definitely more labored now. We were well above the tree line and ascending. From time to time we would stop for a drink, rest and eat something. Not that we had any appetite. Mostly we just knew that we needed the food for energy to keep going. Andrew led the way. He often would follow footprints that took him far to the left or right of the center lane. The center of this snow-covered streambed was too deep to traverse easily. We found out that the side trails were no easier. I was thankful for Andrew's footprints, which made my climb easier, except that his stride was bigger than mine was so I would not always be able to put my feet in his footprints. The slope was difficult enough to climb but adding to our misery was the fact that the snow was crusted with ice, which made it difficult to take a firm step forward. We had to stomp with each step to get a foothold in the snow and keep from sliding backward. In the thin air at 12,000 feet that kind of action saps your strength in a hurry. I found that at times I could only take a step or two then stop, lean over and catch my breath, then take a few more steps and do the same.

The weather was not improving. Instead of raindrops snow flurries pelted us as we climbed. The wind was gusty and strong. Our shoes and jeans were wet from climbing through so much wet snow. Now it was no longer wet snow but ice hard compact snow. The temperature was well below freezing. Neither of us had boots on. Mine were a pair of hiking sneakers (not waterproof), and Andrew's were similar but high tops. We just wore jeans, tee shirts, a shirt, and a jacket. I carried a hooded sweatshirt since I don't like the cold winds on the mountains blowing down my neck. Andrew had worn just a light flannel jacket over his shirt. I had left my down-filled jacket in the car thinking it was so warm and we certainly were not going to the top.

Andrew was much colder than I. I was sweating profusely from the exertion of climbing. Andrew was getting quite cold. My first hint of trouble was when he complained about his feet being wet and cold. I had not even noticed my cold feet until he mentioned it. When we stopped to sit on a rock the wind had picked up and clouds were now building over us. Andrew was visibly shivering. I had the hood but he didn't. I just remembered now that I also had a ski mask in my backpack. That might have helped Andrew against the cold - maybe not. In spite of the cold we were sweating from the exertion of climbing this monster mountain. I had put extra socks, double pairs, in my pack. So we sat on the rock and changed our socks. That helped immediately. Then we realized that if we put our shoes back on the socks would soon be as wet as the others. So, digging into my trusty backpack we found some of those plastic grocery bags and put them around our dry socks before inserting our feet in our soaked shoes. That helped Andrew with his cold feet. I had taken thick ski gloves too. Andrew did not.

We climbed on until 3 o'clock. Now we were getting concerned. We expected to catch the train down from the summit but we were not sure when the last one left. I was thinking it was 5:30 p.m. but was not sure, was it 4:30 or 5:30? Hmmm... Will we make it by 4:30? The more we climbed the farther the Peak seemed to be. It was getting closer but the climb was getting equally harder and noticeably steeper! We had not planned on this. We also thought that certainly we would cross the regular trail and would be able to follow that more easily to the top, but no trail. We saw the steel signs marking the trail but no trail. At 3:30 we were exhausted, out-of-breath and getting sick. I got cramps and diarrhea along the trail. (Fortunately again I brought a roll of toilet paper and plastic bags to carry it out in.) Andrew had a splitting headache and nausea. Neither of us wanted to eat anything. Now we were worried! The steepest part of the climb was still ahead of us and it really did look impassable! There was deep snow and getting deeper, and with huge rocks to climb over. I was at the point of panic.

I knew I could not make the rest of this climb without supernatural intervention. I began to cry out to God -- "O God, what have we done! Please send a helicopter, or someone to save us. We are in big trouble. We need help. We may not get out of this alive. If we miss that train we may have to spend the night on top, and the temperature still drops below zero! O Lord, have mercy.

O Lord hear and answer, please." Then I began to pray with each step. "O Lord, give us the wings of eagles."

By this time we could only go a few feet, then stop and bend over to catch our breath. I hated this snow! Every step was a labor. Then we had to jam our feet into the snow to keep from sliding backwards. These sneakers were not made for high mountain snow trekking.

Finally we could see the train in the distance. Certainly they could see us! But they couldn't. I began to call out loud "Hello! Can anybody hear us! We need help!" Of course no one could hear us. They were on top and we were over a steep embankment from where they were. The snow now was so deep we gave up on it and went toward the steep rocks instead. Perhaps they would be easier to scale -- NOT! The rocks were just that - steep, wet, and slippery. But there was no other way to the top! So we pressed on. By this time I was in front and Andrew was following. I was worried about him. He kept complaining about his headache, and that is not like Andrew. I knew he was suffering from altitude sickness but what else could we do but press on. I was also aware that if either of us fell there would be no stopping us, and neither could carry the other to the top.

I had a few small ropes in my backpack but they were useless on these huge rocks. About this time we caught a glimpse of the corner of the observation tower and a woman was standing there looking out over the mountains. I shouted more "hellos" but no one saw or heard us.

The path had gone almost vertical on us and Andrew is sure an angel kept him from falling backward and down onto rocks. At one point his head went fuzzy and light and his body leaned back and would have fallen backward. At that moment he said he felt as though a hand was placed on his back and instead of falling back he leaned forward. (The wings of eagles Lord, please). We climbed over another section of boulders and - we could see the roof of the summit house.

At last, on our hands and knees we climbed over the last steep boulders to the top and there directly in front of us was the train! What a welcome sight! We staggered into the summit store to get warm and get tickets before the train left. While we were negotiating for one-way tickets down the announcement was made that the last train was leaving at 4:40 (it was 4:30 when we stepped over the tracks) and all those who came in cars would have to leave as the store was closing too.

Andrew and I felt like crying. Both of us had kept quiet about our desperate fears while silently calling on the Lord to save us. He did. We will be forever grateful. There is no bragging about making it to the top. It was a dumb thing to do when warned by experienced climbers not to try. God was gracious to us, to our families, and to the rescue rangers who would have had to pick up our frozen carcasses in the morning. So ends the adventure of a lifetime.

Dick LaFountain,
Who is he?