This past week I had a friend visiting from Illinois and we were able to take a backpack trip into the Weminuche wilderness, one of my favorite places to go. We headed out in the afternoon Tuesday and were out three nights, seeing some of the most spectacular scenery ever - a 200 foot waterfall, another 3 tiered waterfall, a pristine alpine lake, and a beautiful mountain meadow at 11000 feet. And out of the meadow rose a mountain that towered into the sky, looming at 12,620. As we sat by the meadow and snacked, I leaned toward John and said "What do you think about climbing that thing?" I nodded at the giant near us. John was silent for awhile, then, without answering, began to pick out the route we might take. The next thing I knew, we were half way up the thing and gasping for any air to be found.
We couldn't find a route that really made any sense, so we just climbed up the side of the dumb thing. 1500 feet of climb up the dumb thing. We got to the top several times - that is a sarcastic way of saying that there were at least three false summits on the climb up - times when you think you are just about to crest the top and find out that the top is several million steps yet. After 2 hours of slogging up the scree and loose gravel (notice the efficient use of more than one really cool backpacking term in that last sentence) I arrived at the summit. At the very top was a little pile of rocks stacked up to hold 3 things; a plastic bottle that held the names and dates of others who had made it to the top, and, believe it or not, 2 beers. Fat Tire Amber Ale to be precise. And one had my name on it. Okay, not really, but with winter coming I knew it was my duty to drink at least one of them before they froze and broke.
So I sucked down my beer at 12,620 feet in the air, forcing it down through the cold and fizz (I like beer warm and flat - sorry, I'm just weird that way). And as I looked out at hundreds of miles that I could see, with millions of acres of land in all directions, I thought only one thing; God is good. God is really, really good. And sometimes when you least expect it, He shows up in ways you could never imagine.
So thanks for the beer Papa. And thanks for sharing that awesome place with me.
We couldn't find a route that really made any sense, so we just climbed up the side of the dumb thing. 1500 feet of climb up the dumb thing. We got to the top several times - that is a sarcastic way of saying that there were at least three false summits on the climb up - times when you think you are just about to crest the top and find out that the top is several million steps yet. After 2 hours of slogging up the scree and loose gravel (notice the efficient use of more than one really cool backpacking term in that last sentence) I arrived at the summit. At the very top was a little pile of rocks stacked up to hold 3 things; a plastic bottle that held the names and dates of others who had made it to the top, and, believe it or not, 2 beers. Fat Tire Amber Ale to be precise. And one had my name on it. Okay, not really, but with winter coming I knew it was my duty to drink at least one of them before they froze and broke.
So I sucked down my beer at 12,620 feet in the air, forcing it down through the cold and fizz (I like beer warm and flat - sorry, I'm just weird that way). And as I looked out at hundreds of miles that I could see, with millions of acres of land in all directions, I thought only one thing; God is good. God is really, really good. And sometimes when you least expect it, He shows up in ways you could never imagine.
So thanks for the beer Papa. And thanks for sharing that awesome place with me.
2 comments:
Mike...that is really cool. By the way, Fat Tire Amber Ale is brewed in Fort Collins. I've been to the brewery--it's cool. Not as cool as 12000 feet though. Glad you are enjoying Papa. Wish I was there sharing it with you!
Hey Kyle - remember that in Fort Collins there is snow at 12,500 ft. right now. Think about that before you decide to move - you can backpack longer down here with me!
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