My First 14er! Mt. Elbert Hike
An exhilarating, yet enraging experience on Colorado's tallest mountain
Does anyone reading this love to voluntarily torture themselves while on vacation, or is it just me? I think it’s just me at this point. To wrap up the summer, I decided to drive to Colorado for a week and spend time playing in the Rockies. I ended up camping just outside of Leadville and while there I thought about how awesome it would be to summit a 14er. Since this would be my first one, I didn’t want to scale something too extremely difficult or way outside of my skill level, so after researching, I ultimately settled on Mt. Elbert. In the days leading up to the hike, each morning I’d look at the jagged landscape with mountains so incredibly perfect in every way and point out the spot I soon would be. High in the clouds, there he was, daunting me. On August 8th, I woke up before sunrise and set out to stand at the very tip of the entire state. Little did I know, this trail would break me in ways I never imagined and have me rethink everything about who I am as a hiker.
What to expect when up against a 14,000 foot monster
For those who don’t know, Mt. Elbert is among the 58 peaks over 14,000 feet in Colorado, the most out of any state in America. Elbert also not only happens to be the highest mountain in Colorado but is the second tallest peak in the contiguous United States at 14,439 feet with Mt. Whitney in California being a little bigger at 14,505 feet. To put things into even more perspective, Mt. Elbert’s height is the equivalent of 2,406.5 Taylor Swifts and 35,217.07 Pop Tarts. So, yes Elbert is very big and intimidating. However, after researching, I discovered that even though he is one of the tallest mountains in America, Mt. Elbert is categorized as a Class 1 14er. This means Elbert is a relatively easier hike when compared to other peaks over 14,000 feet. Because of this, for many hikers, Elbert is their gateway drug into other high-altitude climbs. I figured Elbert would be a great choice as my first 14er and went into the hike knowing it would be challenging, but doable.
In all the years I’ve hiked, I have never tackled something as ferocious as this. Even though this wasn’t my first state high point that I’ve bagged, I currently reside in a city with an elevation of 466 feet, so was I a little nervous and terrified of how this hike would go? Heck yes! With this being the case, there wasn’t a lot I could do to prepare for this intense trail other than try to acclimate to the high altitude of Leadville as much as I could. So, in the days leading up to summiting Mt. Elbert, I went on a few easy hikes around the area to teach my lungs to take in more oxygen from the thin, mountain air. That, and I obsessively checked the reviews on the North Mt. Elbert trail on AllTrails like crazy, trying to consume any amount of information on what to expect for the hike.
I learned that dangerous afternoon storms at high elevations above 14,000 feet were common, so it’s very important to summit as soon as possible and get back down below tree line before 1 or 2 pm. With the intensity of the trail, it takes an average individual around eight hours to complete the hike considering the treacherously rocky terrain, 4,000 feet in elevation gain within 5 miles, and overall fact that most people summiting this monstrosity of a 14er are not superhuman. With that being said, I would have to get to the trailhead before dawn to finish the trail at a decent time.
Imposture syndrome as a hiker
From my campsite, it was a quick twenty-minute drive to the trailhead, with the last three miles being on a pothole-riddled gravel road that passes through the Elbert Creek campground. The parking lot at the trailhead was what concerned me the most because, with the North trail being the most popular route to summit Elbert, it’s hard to find a spot to park if you don’t get there early enough. It was pretty full by the time I rolled in at around 6 am, but there were still a few spaces to squeeze into. I remember the sun just beginning to creep above the pine and aspen-speckled mountainside. The trailhead was brimming with talk of past 14er adventures and the sharp clicks of pack buckles being adjusted.
I knew some of these folks were from Colorado because they looked like serious, diehard hiker athletes with small hydration vests and trekking poles. As someone who was born insecure, it was hard not to compare myself to these guys, with my Walmart base layers and battered, yet trusty Patagonia Nano Puff I got heavily discounted from the gear shop I worked at. I also wasn’t used to that many people hiking on the same trail at the same time, so I ended up sitting in my car for quite a while trying to remind myself why I was there.
Sure, these people obviously had better trail legs than I did and would most likely beat me to the top. But that’s not why I was there. I don’t hike to race. I don’t hike to be the fastest or to say I did it. I don’t hike to crush miles or to beat my body into submission. I hike to feel what I need to feel, deeply. I hike to learn, to discover, to unearth parts of myself I am just now getting to know. Summiting Mt. Elbert may be badass and impressive to most, but I don’t care about that. I was there to show up for the girl inside who is wild at heart, but vastly afraid to be who she is. So, with pride for where I am from welling inside my chest, I laced my boots and walked toward the trail. Let’s show these Rockys how an Appalachian climbs a mountain.
Let’s get down to business
The first mile or so were gentle gradual inclines and switchbacks. Before I knew it, I was at 11,000 feet (started at around 10,000 feet) and was almost at eye level with the other mountains around. This part of the trail overlaps with the Colorado Trail and the Continental Divide Trail, but as it splits off from them both, things got increasingly more difficult. Soon, it started to feel like I was crawling up the steep grades and making painfully slow progress…and I was still below tree line. By the time I finally noticed the giant pines turn into miniature shrubs, I could look up and see a break in the leaves.
Far ahead of me was this massive dome-shaped curve in the mountain made of nothing but sharp rocks. If I squinted hard enough, I could see tiny ant-like humans making their way up the peak. It looked like the top of Mt. Elbert and oh boy did I want it to be by that point, but I knew from reading reviews that this was the first false summit. There were two of them along this route and even though I knew about them ahead of time, seeing them in person was still demoralizing and soul-crushing. I only had three miles to go but knew it would take me hours by the rate I was hiking.
Suffering in a foreign landscape 101
Being above tree line is like stepping foot onto an entirely new planet. The sky opens up, the land is vast and terrestrial, the rocks replace the once soft dirt beaten path, and the view… don’t even get me started on the view. I pulled my gaze from the ground to look behind me and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was standing tall above all the other mountains surrounding Elbert and noticed how everything looked like the stiff peaks described in a frosting recipe after using a KitchenAid to whip it into formation. The air was crisp and chilly, like fall, but the sun was heavy on my back. If I leaned far enough, I could almost tumble into a different universe.
By now, the trail was precarious and the switchbacks seemed to stop all together. Every move was carefully calculated as I made my way, inch by inch, to the top of the first false summit. Getting there was a short victory, as I still had 1,500 more feet to climb. With the tops of my thighs feeling tired and 90 years old, I pulled myself forward, tapping into my already dangerously low motivation reservoir. I wanted to cry; this was by far the hardest hike I’d ever done. But I didn’t come all this way to quit. My life flashed before my eyes and I knew deep down that I had done way more mentally challenging things than this. “Just get there,” I said, soothing myself. And so I did.
The closest I’ll ever be to the sun
Before I knew it, I was over the second false summit and crawling my way toward the actual Mt. Elbert summit. Even though the end of my suffering was in sight, it still took me a hot minute to get there because, by this point, the temperature felt like the dead of winter with the wind jabbing me in all directions. I kept stopping literally every five feet to bend over and gasp for air, but eventually, my snotty-faced, chapped-lipped, limping self made it to the top of Colorado. Trying to describe the view would be like trying to convince my dad that Bigfoot isn’t real, impossible. I feel like the pictures I took don’t even do it justice. I suggest closing your eyes and imagining yourself high among the clouds. Everywhere around you, a kaleidoscope of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen layered before you. I sat for a few moments taking it all in but got going relatively soon because I felt like gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe and I still had a long descent to chug through.
The long way down was almost worse than the climb up because gravity was not on my side anymore as I slowly retraced my steps, trying to prevent my feet from sliding out from underneath me. The repeated motion of hiking downward for more than five miles completely killed my knees. It was at this point that I wished I had trekking poles to help steady myself. This part of the hike was also the most mentally taxing because I was just so ready to be done. My body felt broken and after shoving Clifbar after Clifbar down my throat to keep the hunger at bay, my stomach was dying for something substantial, preferably something hot and greasy and wonderful.
Every mile felt like Groundhog Day and seemed to go on forever. Eventually, my emotions caught up with me and it got to the point where I was throwing rocks into the woods out of frustration. While this helped momentarily, it took everything in me to keep putting one foot in front of the other to get back to the trailhead. This was a hiking first. I definitely had never felt that much agony towards the end of a trail. When I finally saw my parked truck, it was like reconnecting with my dog after a long day at work.
Closing thoughts
The drive back to Leadville was a blur and so was ordering Mexican food in town as well as burrowing myself inside my tent for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until a few days after summiting Mt. Elbert that I started to feel human again and reflect on my time spent climbing up Colorado’s highest peak. If anyone reading this wants to attempt Mt. Elbert or any other 14er, I suggest thinking long and hard about why you want to in the first place before making plans. This hike was 30% physical exertion and 70% mentally draining. Even though plenty of other hikers around would cheer you on when they saw the look of despair on your face, knowing how to motivate yourself while in pain helps.
Also, for anyone who has precious porcelain skin like I do, once you get above tree line, you are completely exposed to the elements. Which means you WILL get sunburned. Currently, I am suffering the consequences of not applying sunscreen and my face is going through the excruciating process of regenerating new skin cells as I write this. I look like the climbers in Everest documentaries, with their cracked cheeks, dry lips, and raw noses. Don’t be like me.
The harsh reality of high elevation
When considering the altitude, I recommend trying to acclimate as much as possible before the hike. Even though I felt like my body had adjusted enough, I still had a low-grade headache and a bloody nose after summiting. If for whatever reason you start throwing up profusely or get seriously dizzy, get to a lower elevation immediately. Altitude sickness can be extremely life-threatening, so don’t try to power through it. I will say many hikers I passed were also from flatter states as well, so if you are intimidated about the hike solely based on not already living in a high elevation place like Colorado, do not let that deter you from going after a climb like Mt. Elbert. I don't, however, recommend going from “couch to 14er.” This is definitely not a good idea.
Elbert is classified as an easier 14er but is certainly not a beginner-friendly hike. All peaks over 14,000 feet are hard and you should not attempt one until you know you're ready. I thought I was ready and it still thoroughly kicked my ass. The Rockys have a certain beautiful arrogance about them and do not feel as humble and grandmotherly as the Appalachians. I swear I could sense Elbert laughing each time I slipped on the way down. Even so, these mountains should be treated with respect. They are the blue jays of the sky; filled with enchanting charm, yet are fiercely cunning. Do not underestimate them.
Hope you enjoyed this candid account of my first Colorado 14er!
If you want to stay up to date with future posts or have a suggestion for a topic you want to see covered, feel free to like, comment, and subscribe.
See you out on the trail!
Good one. You reminded me of my hike up that hill. At one point, my brother and I decided to make a quick pass of a few somewhat slower hikers way up high on the narrow rocky trail. We did just that, and as we completed the task, we said to each other while bent over and between gulps for air "Nah, not trying that again." Just three days previous we had summited Kings Peak; the almost thousand feet in elevation difference to Elbert was shocking.