blog 55

Blog 55

I step out of my house, and I feel a cool breeze. The air just smells fresh, pure, and clean. I take a deep breathe. I look around and see towering ponderosa pines, wide blue spruces, and bare rocky outcroppings. I hear the gentle rustling leaves of the quaking aspens. A hawk circles above, eying its next victim. The sun shines bright, more intense up in these high altitudes. I feel a peace. My problems dissolve, I want to go explore. I want to go find rocks to climb and streams to cross. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado are a part of who I am fundamentally. They are a part of my childhood, and hopefully a part of my future. Last summer I went on a hike with my brother, my dog, and a friend. Our plan: to climb Mount Massive, one of the 53 fourteen thousand foot mountains in the state of Colorado. We decided we were going to make our own trail. This is frowned upon, as this is the way people get loss or hurt. But, feeling adventurous, we set out. We slaved away at our goal for hours on end. When we reaching to treeline, the lack of oxygen was almost unbearable. The air is so thin up there. But we finally reached the top. The trip down was fun as hell. I rode my heels down a couple hundred foot slope of small rocks, in a matter of minutes. It was awesome. We continued on our route, and came to pretty sizable cliff. The cliff was terrifying. I'm pretty scared of heights, so I was intimidated to say the least. We were able to shimmy down the cliff eventually, but not without some heated discussion. We finally made it and our trip came to an end. It was one of the most draining points of my life, but it was also one of the sickest things I've been a part of.