Long's Peak Narrative

Many people would shudder at the sight of me that morning on the Keyhole Route of Long 's Peak in Colorado. Hiking on an alpine slope may sound like a romantic way to meet the sunrise, yet it 's anything but when you 're making your half-asleep along a cliff, bundled in every single available article of clothing, with hands, though gloved, still so cold they barely grasp your trekking poles. As I crouched under a ledge to rest and warm my hands, I found it almost ironic that two weeks ago I was glad to step out of the Texas summer heat; how much I could give for just a little bit of that warmth now! Yet I didn 't hate the freezing weather or treacherous path. What irked me was that I was going down, not up, the slope, without having reached the

It was difficult for me to accept this fact. I had looked forward to this climb all summer long, the climax of my first trip to the Rockies, the ultimate challenge that I had been firmly set on completing. However I didn’t have the necessary gear to ascend the Trough, a snowed-in section of the trail where ice on the path had proved too difficult to traverse without crampons. I stood up and marched on slowly, as if a physical manifestation of my sadness was tied to my ankle, dragging along the path behind me. Along the way I met a steady stream of shill hopeful hikers on their way up the slope. They would ask – "how is it up there?" - and grudgingly, I admitted defeat: "no-go without crampons". Some turned back, dejected just like I