Rocky Mountain National Park

by Mike Graf

  “Okay,” they all agreed.

  The family hurried back to their car. They drove into the park in the late afternoon. As they turned toward their campground, they passed the visitor center.

  Morgan checked the car’s clock. “It’s past 5 PM,” she announced. “It’s closed.”

  “Oh well,” Dad said.

  “But it was sure nice going into town today,” Mom said.

  14

  Midnight

  Dad’s cell phone alarm rang. He snapped up and fumbled with the buttons. It rang again before Dad, half asleep at midnight, was alert enough to figure out how to turn it off.

  Dad quietly slipped out of his sleeping bag. He put on warm clothes and his shoes.

  Mom rolled over. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

  “I at least want to try,” Dad replied. “Ever since I didn’t get to the top of Mt. Whitney years ago, climbing a 14,000-foot peak has always been a goal.”

  Dad slid outside and put his day pack on the picnic table. He glanced around at the ultraquiet Glacier Basin Campground in Rocky Mountain National Park. A light sparkle of frost coated the windshield of the Parkers’ car, and a zillion stars twinkled above. Well, the sky’s clear now, Dad reassured himself.

  Dad gathered his gear together in the car. He stepped outside, zipped up his jacket, and checked his watch. “12:25 AM,” he whispered. “I’d better get going.”

  Dad tiptoed back to the tent, unzipped the door, and crawled inside.

  Both Morgan and James were awake now. The family looked at Dad, all bundled up. “You look like you’re heading to Alaska,” Morgan commented.

  “It kind of feels like that to me,” Dad replied. “It’s icy outside.”

  Dad reviewed his plans with Mom, then he hugged everyone good-bye.

  “Good luck!” James called out.

  “Be safe,” Mom added.

  “You three too,” Dad said.

  Dad slid out of the tent, walked briskly to the car, and started it. He left the car in park and stepped outside to scrape the frost off the windshield, then quickly hopped back in and cranked up the heat. He ran the wipers until the window was clear.

  Soon he was driving out of the Glacier Basin area and traveling on a highway toward the Longs Peak trailhead. A sliver of the moon shone in the night sky.

  • • •

  After driving several miles along a stretch of isolated mountainous road, Dad checked the clock: 1:10 AM. I should be there any minute now, he told himself.

  The sky was still clear, and he could see city lights glowing in the east.

  Dad peered ahead at an approaching sign. As he got closer, he realized it was his stop.

  Several groups of people were outside their cars gathering supplies in the large, half-filled parking lot. Dad parked the car and pulled out his coat and his thermometer, placing them on the roof. He slipped on his headlamp and began packing, stuffing extra clothes, an Ace bandage, and the collapsible walking stick into his pack. He then began to do a series of stretches to help loosen up his still-injured foot. Afterward, Dad checked the thermometer: 33 degrees.

  The buzz of activity in the parking lot continued. Several other groups of climbers pulled into the lot, while one large party stretched out their legs and backs, preparing for the climb. Finally, many of the climbers headed for the trail.

  After watching a few parties head out, Dad stopped stretching. He locked up the car and found the trailhead registry, where he wrote his name, his destination, and his departure time. It was 1:30 AM when he began the trek toward the summit.

  As Dad huffed along the path, steam poured out of his mouth with each breath. He thought of the peak ahead. The obstacles he had read so much about sifted through his mind: the Boulderfield, the Keyhole, the Narrows, and the Trough were somewhere up there, waiting.

  15

  1:45 AM

  Dad plowed on, continuing his nighttime climb. His headlamp illuminated a small circle of light around him. Just out of the range of the light, a deep, dark, ghostlike forest lined both sides of the trail.

  According to Dad’s watch, it was 1:45 AM. Suddenly, out of the dark, a sign appeared just past the half-mile marker: Eugenia Mine Trail junction. I wonder what’s out there? Dad thought. Then he estimated the miles left to the summit. “Only seven to go,” he joked out loud.

  Dad pressed on. His foot, although stiff and sore from over a week of hiking on the injury, was functioning well enough at the moment. And the high-altitude training seemed to have paid off: Dad’s lungs felt strong. I must be over 10,000 feet now, he estimated.

  Dad’s midnight trek began to take on a rhythmic feel. One step followed the other, and then another. Even Dad’s breathing, although louder and faster than normal, kept a steady beat.

  Dad turned a corner and heard voices ahead. Then he saw two lights. But the lights weren’t moving. Soon Dad caught up to a couple of people wearing headlamps. He hiked by, noticing they were shedding a layer of their clothes. They must be sweating, Dad realized. He wondered if he, too, should take off his jacket.

  The thought passed and Dad surged on. Above, he saw hundreds of stars peeking through breaks in the forest. To the east, an occasional glimpse of city lights from Boulder, Longmont, and Denver reminded Dad that civilization wasn’t all that far away.

  In Dad’s half-awake, dreamlike state, his mind began to drift. He thought of his book in the tent, Colorado’s Fourteeners, and all the other 14,000-foot peaks in the state. And I’m climbing one of them, Dad thought, taking pride in himself and cherishing the potential accomplishment. Maybe I can get an I Climbed Longs Peak T-shirt in Estes Park afterward.

  A sign near another junction read Goblins Forest Backcountry Campsite. Dad paused there for a moment, focusing in on the ghostlike trees that lined the trail before they disappeared into the darkness farther below. It does seem that goblins could live out here, he thought. Then Dad checked the small thermometer dangling from his jacket. It registered 36 degrees. I wonder if I’m warming it from my exertion, Dad considered. It feels a lot colder than that. The night, elevation, and frosty air definitely had a bite to it.

  The long, lonely hike in the dark continued. Shouldn’t I be in bed now? Dad thought, laughing as he yawned. Is this really what I chose to do on my vacation? He smiled and pressed on.

  Then, out of the dark, another sign suddenly appeared.

  Warning: LIGHTNING HAZARD

  When electrical storms approach, turn back if possible.

  Avoid high points, horses, ridges, and campfires.

  Take shelter in low pockets away from tall trees.

  Dad read the ominous warning then looked at the clear skies. He walked on, suddenly realizing that the forest was disappearing.

  Now, from what Dad could discern, only small, stunted trees grew along the trail. A full display of stars was visible above.

  I’m in the krummholz zone, Dad realized, approaching tree line

  ARCTIC TREES

  Krummholz trees grow near timberline in the Rocky Mountains. Repeated exposure to blasting winds and freezing temperatures causes the vegetation to be stunted and deformed. Oftentimes these trees grow more densely near the ground, where the branches are more protected from the elements.

  A tiny shooting star whisked across the sky, then quickly faded. A meteorite, Dad said to himself, entering our atmosphere and burning up.

  Far ahead Dad noticed another headlamp bobbing up and down. He focused his eyes on the beacon, but it kept moving. Two other lights were beyond the first one. The signals illuminated the path up the mountain.

  Dad recalled Morgan and James’s class performance of the poem “Paul Revere’s Ride.” “One if by land and two if by sea,” Dad chanted.

  Dad let his mind run with the thought, and he reworded the poem:

  Listen, my family, and you shall hear

  Of the midnight walk of Robert Parker here

  On July 27, on a night very late,

 
; I climbed to the stars, far up into their gates

  Dad paused and snickered to himself, I’m not a very good poet. But, with nothing else to keep him occupied, he tried a few more lines.

  You know the rest, about my hike I once said

  How Robert Parker never stopped nor fled

  Though altitude and elements gave him a fight

  He made it up the mountain just before the end of night

  Then at dawn crossed the Boulderfield, only to emerge

  At the Keyhole figure, causing his energy to surge

  Dad pressed on to the summit, with backpack in hand,

  Pushing toward the top while in full command

  And what a beautiful site he beheld far below…

  “Hmmm.” Dad smiled to himself as he spoke aloud. “Not bad, eh?”

  Dad got ready to spin his next stanza when another sign interrupted his thoughts: Battle Mountain Camp.

  Dad pulled out a small map and shone his headlamp on it. “I must be near 11,000 feet now,” he said. “That means only five miles to go! But still over 3,000 feet of elevation gain.”

  Dad now noticed a line of lights ahead of him and several bobbing behind. He checked his watch: 3:15 AM.

  16

  3:30 AM

  As Dad’s magic hike under the stars continued, he slowed briefly to pull out his GPS. Dad pressed some buttons and held it out. “11,500 feet,” he announced to himself.

  Dad’s pace relaxed. The air was cooler at this altitude too. His dangling jacket thermometer registered 32 degrees.

  Ahead, looming in the night sky, Dad could barely make out the dark silhouette of a massive mountain. There’s a monster up there, he thought. He kept climbing, following the line of lights ahead and being trailed by several below.

  Eventually another phantom sign appeared out of the dark, this one for the Chasm Lake junction. Okay, 11,600 feet now, he realized after glancing at his small map. Only four miles to the summit.

  He slogged on, pushing harder to keep a steady pace. His breathing became labored as he trudged up a set of rock stairs.

  Occasional meteorites whisked across the sky. You know what I wish! Dad exclaimed to himself, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

  Later, Dad approached Granite Pass junction. He looked at the information on his map. Now I’m past 12,000 feet. This barren, treeless altitude at Rocky is new terrain for me! The trail began to switchback steeply up. Dad passed by a few tiny trickles of water. He wondered if he’d recognize the location in daylight, in case he needed to filter up on the return trip.

  Dad surged on, but then suddenly stopped and shone his light all around. He quickly scanned the area, searching for the worn pathway. Am I even on the trail? he wondered, his heart beginning to pound. When did I lose it and where?

  Dad backtracked several steps. To his relief, he soon found the path and continued upward.

  I better watch my steps more carefully, Dad coached himself, and keep my GPS at the ready. Then he glanced east. The lights of the cities appeared slightly dimmer. A faint glow was beginning to appear above the horizon. It was 4:50 AM.

  17

  4:50 AM

  The ever-so-slight hint of daylight on the mountain slowly increased. Dad still used his headlamp to watch his footing, but the darkened world around him was now coming into view.

  As Dad continued, the shoulder of massive Longs Peak began appearing. Just below the face of the mountain, Dad could barely make out a tiny snowfield. That mountain really is a monster, Dad realized.

  Up ahead a shelter emerged out of the darkness. Dad also noticed people moving around. Like him, they were still using their headlamps. But, for the first time on the hike, Dad could see people attached to the lights.

  Dad pressed on. Straight ahead were two small structures propped up on rocks. “The privies,” Dad realized. He decided to use them and got in line. As he waited, he glanced at his thermometer: 31 degrees. Then he checked the elevation note on his little map: 12,760 feet!

  After a person exited, Dad climbed some stairs and stepped inside.

  Within a few minutes, he had returned to the trail. By now dawn was fully breaking. Dad turned off his headlamp and resumed his ascent.

  He felt a renewed sense of energy knowing he was now at the 5.9-mile mark. He had less than two miles to go.

  Dad scrambled to the top of a large boulder. He stood and gazed out at the emerging horizon.

  The Boulderfield, Dad recalled. That must be where I am now.

  The sky was partly cloudy. Mostly altocumulus, Dad realized. The higher clouds meant no thunderstorms, at least for the time being, he concluded.

  Dad scanned the area, trying to gauge where the trail was. He could see people above him scrambling up the main part of the Boulderfield. At the top of the rocks a zigzag-shaped slot cut into the mountainside. The notch now held a tiny human-shaped silhouette. The person waved to someone near Dad.

  The Keyhole, Dad realized. He clambered on as quickly as he could, then immediately slowed down. Suddenly Dad felt light-headed. Either from lack of sleep or the elevation, he thought. Or both.

  It was now 5:40 AM.

  • • •

  James popped out of the tent at Glacier Basin Campground. The area was again coated with a light frost. James walked around and found a clear view of Longs Peak. From that vantage point he gazed up at the massive mountain.

  The jagged rock profile of a beaver appearing to climb toward the summit was just where it was yesterday—still separated from the peak.

  The world isn’t going to end yet, James concluded, remembering the legend from the bird walk.

  James checked the sky. It was mostly clear below, but a few high clouds enshrouded the mountain. Good climbing weather for Dad, James thought. And good hiking weather for us.

  James strolled back to the tent and reported the conditions to Mom and Morgan. He slid inside and crawled back into his sleeping bag, waiting for the morning sun to thaw the frost.

  18

  5:50 AM

  Dad scrambled slowly up to the top of another large boulder. He paused there, trying to calm his breathing.

  Suddenly the sun lit up the Keyhole formation on the mountain. Dad watched the light creep down toward him. Soon the whole panorama was bathed in bright morning light. It was now a completely new day.

  Dad climbed on, scrambling from one boulder to the next. He paused again while putting his head down and leaning over. Dad shut his eyes for a moment and then opened them as two people scurried past. He watched the energetic climbers. They’re half my age, he realized.

  Dad looked around, noticing that the nighttime lights had been completely replaced with faces. There were climbers all over the trail, some below him, and others well past. A few people were even standing in the Keyhole, watching the sunrise.

  Dad glanced briefly at Longs Peak, still towering above to his left.

  The day warmed quickly, and Dad took a quick glance at his thermometer—40 degrees. The sun’s really radiating off these rocks and warming the air, he observed.

  The climb up the Boulderfield steepened. Dad followed the makeshift path of the people ahead of him. He looked up. I’m within a hundred feet of the Keyhole, he encouraged himself.

  But those hundred feet took a while. He climbed some more, paused, caught his breath, and scrambled up farther.

  Soon Dad approached a small stone shelter just below the Keyhole. He surged on, finally stepping beyond the Boulderfield and into the prominent slot in the mountain.

  Dad stood in the Keyhole, admiring the views and his accomplishment. It’s a rock-strewn world up here, he thought to himself. Lakes and snowfields were scattered among the rocks well below his perch, and beneath that was the forest.

  He took a moment to check his GPS: 13,160 feet.

  “Wow,” Dad gasped. Then he found a rock to sit on and took out a peanut butter sandwich, forcing himself to stop, rest, and eat. It was now 7 AM.

  Feeling weak and light
-headed, Dad sat a little longer in the Keyhole and slowly managed to swallow part of his sandwich. The sun continued to warm the area. He shed a windbreaker and gulped down some water.

  The sky was partly cloudy, but the clouds didn’t appear threatening. They’re not really becoming vertical yet, Dad observed.

  People kept scurrying by and saying hi to Dad as they passed. Finally, a couple of young climbers stopped long enough to chat. “How’s it going?” the woman greeted him.

  “I’m okay,” Dad replied. “Just trying to slow down and get some food and rest. I figure a mile or so to the summit can’t take that long.”

  The woman looked at Dad. “Is the altitude getting to you?”

  “It must be,” he admitted. He found his pulse on his neck and checked it. “But my heart seems to be calming down a bit now.”

  “Yeah, the last time we climbed Longs, it was here at the Keyhole that the elevation started to take its toll on us,” the woman explained. “I started getting dizzy and light-headed from about this point on.”

  “You’ve been up here before?” Dad asked. “How long does it take from here?”

  “At least two hours with all the rock scrambling and the elevation. It’s really slow-going.”

  “And another couple of hours to get back down to here,” the man added. “You really have to watch your step.”

  The two climbers said good-bye and pressed on.

  Meanwhile, Dad added up the estimated times in his head. So, if all goes well, I won’t even be back to this spot until nearly noon, he realized.

  He immediately packed his food and water and stood up.

  The world around Dad instantly went into vertigo. He felt as if a carousel of boulders was whirling around him.