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Ahhh . . . now we're getting to my very favorite part of any mountain hike -- the tundra above tree line! That's where the panoramic views are the most spectacular and the terrain is a bit other-worldy.

After passing through the unique Krummholtz zone of weathered dwarf trees and shrubs, the landscape morphs into a fantasy of colorful rocks and tiny alpine wildflowers (more flowers here than in the first nine or ten miles, to my delight) set against the endless blue sky.

 

There are several signs and plaques along the trail in the last three miles. The one in the center of the next photo memorializes Inestine B. Roberts, an almost-88-year-old woman who died at timberline in 1957 after her 14th ascent of Pike's Peak!

Read that again -- almost age 88, female, fourteenth ascent of the peak. Wow.

I've said lots of times that I want to live to be 100, but believe me, if my body can still get me up Pike's Peak at age 88, I'd seriously consider risking my life to do it!

I would not take the risks that Mrs. Roberts took, however. She was a feisty old lady, as this interesting story by Matt Carpenter shows. (Yes, that Matt Carpenter, the elite "sky-runner" with the high VO2 max who routinely runs up and down the incline and the rest of this mountain). Be sure to read both pages; the second one has the most information about the stubborn decision she made that cost her life.

HIKER'S HIGH

Now I was high enough to see features in the valleys that I hadn't seen before, such as one of the lakes down along the Pike's Peak Highway to the northeast:

Scenic views of Lake Moraine to the south dominated the landscape in that direction the rest of the way to the summit:

The higher I climbed, the bigger the rocks seemed to get. There were fewer and fewer plants, too:

 

View down to the Springs and the vast plains to the east

I was fascinated with the interesting rock wall shown below. I took this photo a little before passing the 2-miles-to-the-summit sign and would soon swing around closer to the formation:

 

12,700 feet in elevation with two miles to go to reach 14,115 feet -- where's the oxygen??

I was still OK here with the altitude but quickly closing in on the highest elevation I'd been this summer, just over 13,000 feet. Maybe that's why I stopped so often to take pictures up here.

Naw. It's because the tundra and views are just so gosh darn awe-inspiring!

The next three photos are closer to that cool, fractured rock wall I showed above. The picture in the middle includes a hiker to give some perspective on the size of the boulders up here.

 

 

This place is nirvana for an amateur or professional photographer. I just kept clicking away as I climbed higher and higher.

 

Oooo . . . it looks so close now! So do those gray clouds . . .

Then, somewhat suddenly, I was out of the interesting boulder "garden" with about a mile and a half to go. From this vantage point (above), I could see that the trail angled over to one of the notches on the left.

As I got closer, I wondered if that was where Jim was waiting for me. He had called when I was near the 2-mile sign and said he hiked down about a mile from the summit. Despite some difficult footing and another interesting rock formation between us, I managed to hike up to him fairly quickly.

 

 

Then I spotted my best buddy! You can barely see him on the horizon in the middle of the next picture:

He had stopped near the Cirque sign, knowing that would be a good place to see me coming.

He took a picture of me with the Cirque sign and Lake Moraine in the distance, then urged me to hike the last mile fast enough to beat what looked like an incoming storm.

Well, that might have been easy for him to do, but I was now above the elevation for which I was acclimated, wearing down after eleven miles and over six hours of relentless climbing, AND facing the roughest trail surface of the day . . .

It was a cruel combination of (much) less oxygen and more rocks to scramble over.

But off I went, catching cool views of some of the switchbacks looking behind me . . .

 

 

and ahead:

Then I was surprised to see the "16 Golden Stairs" sign:

Haven't I already negotiated all those steps and switchbacks?? 

Apparently not.

A "golden stair" is a switchback pair. Although I'd been switch-backing up the broad east face of the peak for the last hour, I still had 32 more to go. Each one seemed rougher than the last, although there were a few smoother spots where I didn't have to focus quite so intensely on my footing:

 

Jim climbed faster, then would wait as I took yet another photo and hustled to catch back up to him.

The photo ops kept my heart rate at a sensible level and fed my soul as much as my lungs. I was so happy to be up here!

Near the plaque (below) commemorating Fred Barr, trail designer and builder extraordinaire, we saw the mountain biker I mentioned earlier:

 

Can't relate to that but we gave him a big smile and thumbs-up, then watched him continue to walk his bike over some rough rocks after we passed him. There were quite a few people in this section, too, which made his descent even more challenging.

Like many popular but difficult trails, when you're on the Barr Trail you'll find the most people within a mile or two of the trailheads at the summit or Manitou Springs. You'll have more solitude in the middle miles (unless it's one of the weekends before the PP Ascent and Marathon).

SUCCESS, CONSIDERING . . .

You'd think I'd be ecstatic to reach the summit after the last difficult mile, but I was kind of sorry to reach the end of an awesome hike. I had wanted to do this for a good while, and now it was over.

Sorta like how I felt after completing the Appalachian Trail, only this was a much easier goal!

I still had a big grin on my face, though. Success is reward in itself.

Although none of the people at the summit who were observing the hikers and runners coming up the trail said anything to me or even knew I'd come all the way from the Springs, I felt pride in my accomplishment. I knew what I had just done and that's all that mattered to me. I was very pleased I finished my climb as fast as I did (considering all the stops for photos, etc.) and I felt great (considering the elevation gain and altitude and my age and such).

Made it!

We looked back at the trail from the top, wondering why we weren't able to find the trailhead when we were here in early June. Even though the trail was under snow then, I don't think it was high enough to cover that sign!

Where was this trail hiding in early June?

The cog train wasn't there when we arrived. As we crossed the railway Jim pretended to get "stuck" in the cogs:

The weather was good on the summit but we were concerned about that storm brewing close by to the south. The Summit House was packed when we went inside to use the restrooms. We didn't even consider buying any of the costly or fattening food there, so we headed for the truck.

I showed a photo of the parking lot in the first part of this series. The place was packed and all the snow we'd seen, including the huge pile in the middle, was gone. I don't know how that could have melted. I'm guessing they trucked it farther down the hill and spread it out to melt.

We didn't get wet on the drive down the mountain; that lake was completely iced over in early June.

We could see a little bit of snow in the distance as we descended on the Pike's Peak Highway; I didn't see any on the way up the Barr Trail. The Continental Divide was much easier to see in June when the peaks were snow-covered. With considerably less snow on the peaks in late July, it was more difficult to see the Divide this afternoon.

We had a slow trip down the Pike's Peak Highway because of construction in a couple of places and a lot more traffic than during our early June drive to the summit (no wonder; it was frigid on the top that day!). It was interesting to see the dirt-colored cement (?) being poured into the ditches to catch the run-off from snowmelt and rain:

POST-HIKE THOUGHTS

What a great day!

I did make a couple mistakes that would have made the last two miles of climbing easier. I forgot to take any electrolytes and was grateful Jim had some when I reached him a mile before the top. By then it was too late to do much good. I had some cramping in my left calf and right adductor as I clambered over the rocks in that section.

And I was so concerned about running out of water that I rationed it 'way too much. I had 40 oz. left in my 100-oz. Camelbak bladder when I emptied it later! That means I drank only 60 oz. in seven hours, much too little for a sunny day at high altitude. That's a problem with a bladder; I'm too lazy to pull it out to check on its content during a hike.

I was both dehydrated and low on electrolytes but my fitness level got me up there in pretty good shape and time -- considering.

Switch-backing down the PP Hwy; it's harder to see the Continental Divide on the horizon now.

Remember Matt Carpenter? He's the one who quips that "oxygen is over-rated -- just keep running!"

While Jim was waiting for me a mile below the summit, he recognized Matt running up the mountain and talked with him for a little while. Matt is training for the Ascent in a few weeks. I either didn't recognize him when he passed me earlier or he went around me while I was off-trail at Barr Camp. I'm sorry I missed him and hope he wins the race again. Matt's a good guy. I've talked with him a few times over the years (runs during the RRCA convention in Colorado Springs in the '90s, Leadville 100 check-in more recently) but I wouldn't expect him to recognize me.

I had so much fun on this hike that Jim is considering doing both the ascent and descent for a long training run later this week. We'll have to wait for another perfect weather day . . .

If you'd like to read additional information about running or hiking on Pike's Peak, there are many web sites with descriptions of the heavily-used Barr Trail and other less-traveled trails. Two I like are Matt Carpenter's site and this page on the Trails and Open Space Coalition site. 

Next entry: exploring some history in Colorado Springs, starting with the Pioneers Museum

Happy trails,

Sue
"Runtrails & Company" - Sue Norwood, Jim O'Neil, and Cody the Ultra Lab

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© 2010 Sue Norwood and Jim O'Neil