so it all fits together poetically, not including the reference to Pulp Fiction.It really was an epic day. We drove out of Boulder around 7:45 in the morning as the temperature rapidly climbed to over 100 degrees F. We managed to keep in the cool until we arrived at the Fourth of July trailhead just before 9a. We started at about 10,210 feet above sea level and hiked a little over 2 miles up to the base of South Arapohoe where we were at about 12,700 feet. More or less, for every two steps, we were stepping up almost a foot from 9 until 11:30.
The wildflowers were incredible. I saw more Columbine blooms
in one day than I have ever seen in my life! We saw 16 marmots, but that was mostly on the way down. Even though it was obvious flowers were starting to die, there were signs that last weekend's two days of rain had revived every single plant on the mountain. The colors were vibrant.The first part of the trail is below the treeline & the path through the pines was cool and shady.
When we came in full contact with the sun above treeline, we were still cool and refreshed, in spite of the grade. At the end of the tundra, we were looking up at a 700 foot vertical scramble up a 1500 foot bed of talus to the top of the South Arapahoe peak at 13,397 feet above sea level. That scramble took almost another hour and we were at our first major milestone, South Arapahoe Peak. 
The plan was to ascend to the south Arapahoe peak and then traverse the ridge between them to the north Arapahoe peak which is at nearly 14,000 feet above sea level. (This might be a good time to mention I live in a neighborhood called "Arapahoe Ridge" and as I drive or bike into work every day, I see the Arapahoe ridge!) We left the south peak a little after 12:30p and started across the ridge. Although from my house the ridge looks fairly smooth, up close it was obvious that some real mountianeering skills might be required.While coming up the talus base to the south peak involved choosing what might generously be termed paths, starting out around the ridge to the north peak was just walking across large rocks with the goal of maintaining or slightly increasing altitude. It was a fairly precarious hike with fairly disasterous consequences, but Jackrabbit Slim had been there before and was a conscientious, careful & concerned guide for which I regularly expressed my (literally) undying appreciation! We walked past 2 glacier fields, which are landmarks visible from where I live & work. It was a little strange standing on top of a glacier that fell away over 600 feet at a grade of over 80%, but we took each other's pictures anyways.
About halfway there, I had to ascend a slab of rock about 10 feet high with no casually discernable or significantly useful outcroppings. It was basically just a 10 foot high slab of granite. I still don't understand how Jackrabbit Slim got up there
, but when he offered to pull me up, I grabbed his hand, pulled with all my might, got a knee up on the rock (scraping & scuffing) and sat down beside him. I was intensely aware of my rate of breathing. Between altitude & adrenaline, I was grateful for every molecule of oxygen sweet mother earth could provide. And speaking of sweet mother earth, I realized I was over 13,400 feet above sea level on a rock platform about 6 feet wide and 9 feet long and it wasn't completely level. There was a patch on the west end of the platform, about 4' x 6', that was sittable, so I sat there and announced my decision that I wasn't going any further. That decision came from some deep and primeval part of my brain. There was no logic or rationality associated with that decision. As I looked north towards the next steps and saw big boulders with a drop of indeterminite height on a knife edge of 80% on one side down glaciers and 65% on the other side down a boulder field, the logical parts of my brain confirmed the decision and I continued to sit.Jackrabbit Slim had talked for years about this hike and it was a big one for him. He had only gone across the ridge successfully once before, having been turned back by thunderbolts & lightning (very, very frightening!) and having to scamper back down. I knew how big it was for him to get to the north peak, so I told him to go on, I would wait right there. I had previously informed him that I would only go as far as I was comfortable and I had gone significantly beyond that point! He promised to be to the north peak in 30 minutes, eat his PBJ (with Udi's bread) and then head back across. I repeated my promise to wait right there and encouraged him to reach his goal. He walked, almost hopped, down the big boulders and out of site. He reappeared on the knife edge and within minutes had completely disappeared from sight.
While the rational side of my mind was fully committed to sitting right there (right there!), it was exerting every Jedi mind trick in the book to prevent the primeval part of my brain from running away, literally.
Here was the mind-body instance of Trent sitting on the continental divide which was really just a rock pedastal 10' above it's supports, the aforementioned 80% & 65% slopes to the east & west respectively. There was only one short way down and that was down a 10 foot, 85% slope slab of granite. Fortunately, the intellectual side of my mind won control of my body and I continued to sit, for the entire 2 hours it took Jackrabbit Slim to get back. I moved occassionally: I got food out of my Camelback, I put a windbreaker over my crossed legs when I felt the sun beginning to bake them, and I occassionally turned to look in a different direction, although I wanted to keep an eye on Jim, in case I had to start down by myself.
His 30 minute trek to the north peak took almost an hour, with interminible 10-20 minute chunks out of my line of sight, although from my vantage point I could see for scores of miles in almost every dicection. When I looked at the map and realized my butt crack was pretty much exactly on the continental divide, it was only the rational side of my mind that was able to acknowledge the signicifance of my position and that the emotional side of my mind would eventually appreciate that fact, once it (my emotional side) had been resuscitated, nay resurrected.
Jackrabbit Slim took his own sweet time (seemingly) and was back at my perch at 3:30ish. In the interim, I had come to strong grips with my acrophobia (fortunately) and was now prepared to figure out how to get off my perch. (Much later, literary referencial capability returned to my brain & I was able to compare my position to that of Drool Rockworm at the beginning of Lord Foul's Bane). Once again, Jim excelled as a guide and a friend, descending first and either offering advice as to placement of limbs or actually placing them, a literal lifesaver! Back on the large rocks at the base of my platform, I was very disconcerted to realize that finding the path back was almost as difficult for Jim as it was for me. But after an hour of painstaking pathfinding, we were back at the South Arapahoe peak and this time, we had it all to ourselves! The summer afternoon thunderheads had not yet developed and we had a very close sun (pity the fools down only a mile high and 100 degrees) and a very cool breeze. It was 4:30pm and we had to scramble down 700 feet of much more than less trail-less rock. I managed to get way below the trail, and it was only Jim calling to me that led me to maintain enough altitude to avoid disaster (only the slightest of exaggerations there)! Finally, by 5:30 we were back on the tundra and a real discernable trail! As my literary sense began to return, I decided tiggers don't like honey & trents don't like scrambling!
The walk down was great, although the sun baked my calves. As previously mentioned, there were marmots galore. Some were brave, others correctly cautious, but all were fat with beautiful pelts. It made me think back that over 150 years before, the mountains were full of beavers. The flowers were still spectacular as we walked down, although many had closed up shop for the evening, pulling in their petals like awnings in a hot middle eastern village. We were back to the trailhead a little after 7p, and Jackrabbit Slim said for the tenth or twentieth time: "It was an epic day for an epic hike!" I heartily concurred!
