Here in Boulder it's all about the mountains (if you ignore the microbreweries). Today Hannah and I decided to kill ourselves, or at least cause irreparable damage, by climbing to Bear Peak (8500ft high, 13 miles round trip).
We started at around 10am, ignoring the Starbucks that we passed to prove how serious we were. The trail began at Chataqua Historic Landmark, a hub for hikes and treks here in Boulder. The miles and miles of trails are beautifully maintained, allowing ridiculously unqualified people like us to wander out into the mountain wilderness.
Things started well. The Mesa Trail led us via a nice gentle incline through pines, wildflower meadows, and across the odd scree slope. Things got tricky at the point the route guide described the ascent as "beginning in earnest". This gave way to "challenging terrain". After that it stopped giving descriptions.
Around lunchtime we found ourselves at the bottom of our final ascent, and decided to get to the highest point before rewarding ourselves with guacamole and cheese sandwiches. What could be better than looking out over the Rockies on one side and the central American plain on the other?
Unfortunately, on reaching the summit, we discovered that we were not alone. Billions of flies, all after whatever moisture they could suck from our skin, eyes, mouths, etc. descended. I ran around on the small rock outcrop waving my England cricket hat like a crazy person, and was relieved not to tumble off the peak. The rest of the walk was spent covered in fly body parts.
We ate lunch a little lower, still entranced by the stunning views, the beautiful sunshine, and the baking heat. On the way down Hannah went all nihilistic; "What a futile species we are," she mused, picking another dead fly from her top. "We walk up a mountain, only to walk back down again."
I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but then a hill runner and her dog passed us on their way down the trail...and passed us again on their way back up. The dog looked unimpressed.
Ready for the off!
All looking good at the ranger station (we didn't pick the wildflowers).
Bottom of the trail.
Before...
On the path to the peak.
Tiptoe through the aspens.
Yep, we're heading to that one on the left.
The most important piece of equipment on any walk.
Ladybirds come to Boulder to breed, obviously.
Proof that this is the highest point around! I think.
King of the hill.
Hannah studies the map in the hope that distances have shrunk.
More stunning views (indulge me!)
What goes up must stumble down.
After.
PS Thanks to the good fortune invoked by my cricket hat wearing, England have won the Ashes! If you don't understand the significance of this, ask me anytime :)
