Pikes Peak

By: Judge David Langham

I was at the Colorado Worker's Compensation conference recently, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, and memories abound. It was a whirlwind trip that involved little sleep and many hours in airports and planes.

As I sat in the shadow of the Peak, I remembered my experience in the 1970s climbing that mountain. Perhaps "climbing" is a poor characterization. It is undoubtedly a mountain, but ascending this peak requires no ropes, pitons, harnesses, or other such equipment. It is perhaps more accurate to say that in the 1970s I walked up Pikes Peak, slowly.

Colorado Springs, at 6035 feet, is significantly higher than 1 mile above sea level. But from that starting point, Pikes Peak juts into the atmosphere to 14,115 feet. This little "stroll" requires 13 miles of walking, and the conditions are challenging; it is steep, uneven, and always up, up, up. It is not a stroll for the faint at heart. There is also a cog railroad on the mountain. In the 70’s, I walked up and rode the train down (note, the smart hiker would take the train up and walk down, but I digress).

Back when I walked to the summit, the T-shirts, patches, etc. all listed the elevation as 14,110, as memorialized on this survey marker.

But, the summit sign now reads 14, 115 feet.

I am struggling with where the additional 5 feet came from. On the internet, there are t-shirts, paperweights, and more, and the altitude is variably stated between 110 and 115. 

I strolled up that mountain as a grade-school boy. As I recall, there were discussions of planning then, e.g. what to take, when to depart, timing the overnight stop (really? stopping in the middle of a 13 mile walk?). But, mostly, I recall enthusiastically walking up the mountain. Admittedly, I certainly did not carry my share of the provisions or equipment. In retrospect, I suspect that I was less than kind regarding the struggles and complaints of the more seasoned members of our expedition, who did carry the lion's share of these items.

I vividly recall that those seasoned walkers (among them a gung-ho enthusiastic U.S. Marine), were not necessarily as thoughtful as practicality says they might have been. That 13 miles is steep and in places somewhat unforgiving. I vividly recall the moment on our first day when one of the adults conceded that the second bottle of wine he was carrying was a luxury which could be foregone. I recall the discussions regarding sensible shoes, lighter backpacks, and the characterizations of what was actually "necessary."

Curiously, despite that second bottle of wine discussion, I recall it being several rest-stops up the trail that this team member jettisoned that "second" bottle of wine. A few breaks later, it was followed by the "first," then a large glass jar of peanuts, and the list went on. Despite our respect for nature, it is fair to say that we cached a fair amount of provision and luxury along that trail. Suffice it to say we never returned, and I hope those provisions were gratefully found by others.

The experience of that stroll occurred to me as I found myself once again in Colorado Springs, at the base of this famous peak, once the rally cry of a gold rush, "Pike's Peak or Bust." It occurred to me that multiple lessons might be gleaned from that grade-school walk, and which could translate into affective professional practice.

First, is the planning is critical. We started up that mountain, with no prior experience. It was an age before Internet access, but I suspect we could have found some informed advisers beforehand. But, the team was confident, perhaps overly so, and believed that a walk is a walk. We borrowed equipment, packed like we would have pack animals, and confidently set off with far too little experience and information.

Second, there is no harm in reassessment, and reflection. The original packing list was too broad. And upon each reevaluation, additional items were consistently deemed unnecessary. As the incline increases, and the challenge intensifies, it may be appropriate to jettison unnecessary materials that were once believed critical, or at least desirable. I recall that Marine lamenting that he had carried that "second" bottle of wine for two legs of the trip after deciding it was superfluous and heavy. When he jettisoned that "first" bottle of wine hours later, his lament of the "second" bottle jettisoned earlier rang in my ears, but was not mentioned.

Third, talk to others. There is just no substitute for experience sometimes. I ran into an associate years later who was planning to take this walk. He was ebullient and excited. His logic was to carry nothing but water and energy bars, start early, and return the same day. He found my warnings and war stories humorous and utterly irrelevant. He had run marathons in his youth and was not at all impressed by the scope of the 26 mile roundtrip. He later recounted to me that the night he spent on Pike's Peak, without equipment or provisions, propped asleep against a tree, was among the most miserable of his life.

Finally, life is a lesson. This is true consistently and persistently. It will teach us many lessons, and periodically remind us of truths. We can prepare, research, and analyze, and yet it will still manage to surprise us. I summited again in 2017 (by car). I had forgotten how cold it can be at 14,110 (or 15, your call) feet, 26 degrees by the car thermometer. Funny how you let yourself forget such things. I wish I had brought a jacket.