Summer Reading (So Far . . .)
Wedge’s Gamble
Michael A. Stackpole
83%
King, Queen, Knave
Vladimir Nabokov
89%
The Krytos Trap
Michael A. Stackpole
88%
City of Glass
Paul Auster
85%
Ghosts
Paul Auster
52%
The Bacta War
Michael A. Stackpole
81%
Oh, the Things I Know!
A Guide to Success, or, Failing That, Happiness
Al Franken
86%
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Quandary Peak (14,265 Ft.)
07-04-05
After a failed attempt to snow climb Quandary in March, my Dad and I were eager to summit the peak for our first climb of the summer. Shortly after 4:00 AM we packed our gear into my Dad’s car and set off. This time we were able to drive right up to the trailhead to park (last time there was too much snow). Surprisingly, the parking lot was not crowded. Holidays are always terrible days to climb if you’re looking for solitude, but we encountered far fewer people than I expected.
(Quandary Peak, as seen from Hoosier Pass)
We were both glad that we had packed jackets and long pants because it was quite cold. My hands froze up after only ten minutes of hiking and did not function very well until we left the treeline and the sun warmed us up. We were able to shed our jackets---for a little while at least.
The trail was much easier to follow this time since it was not covered in a few feet of snow. The most popular—and easiest—route to Quandary’s summit in years past was via the Monte Cristo trail. A few years ago the Colorado Fourteener Initiative closed down the old trail for landscape restoration. We saw the old trail branching off from the new one, and I immediately understood the mistake we made during our snow climb; we lost the new, well-marked trail and followed the old trail until we eventually lost it and began trailblazing up a 45 degree slope. We were, in fact, actually on Mt. Quandary the entire time and not mistakenly on Mt. Wheeler, as I thought when I wrote about our last attempt. So we’re not completely inept hikers, it seems. We did, however, take a much harder route for the snow climb, which is why we ultimately failed.
The trail became more difficult once we entered a boulder field. It was not as long or rough as the boulder field on Mt. of the Holy Cross, but it was still interminable and rough on the feet. I spotted a female mountain goat with a baby by her side, but some hikers in front of us had brought three dogs with them. The dogs began chasing the mountain goats until they dashed out of sight over a ridge. I was irritated with the other hikers and their dogs since I’ve always wanted to take some close-up photos of mountain goats. Another lost opportunity. Oh well.
The final 150 to 200 feet of the ascent to the summit slowed us down. Slushy snow covered the rocks and made us slip around, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable since slipping a little to far to either side would mean a three hundred foot tumble down the side of the mountain. The wind began to increase at that point, which did not help anything. My Dad had his trekking poles, so he negotiated the snow almost effortlessly. I had a harder time but eventually made it to the summit after a few minor slips.
From the summit we had a beautiful view of three peaks we climbed last summer: Mt. Democrat, Mt. Lincoln, and Mt. Bross. The wind on the summit was some of the strongest I’ve ever encountered. We ducked behind some boulders and rested for a few minutes before heading back down.
(From left to right: Bross, Lincoln, Democrat)
(View from the summit)
As always, the descent goes extremely faster. For a while. The boulder field killed my feet on the way down, and by the time we reached the treeline my legs were trembling. We were back into the trees before noon right as dark clouds began to cover the summit. Despite the obvious presence of storm clouds about the summit, we still passed numerous hikers just beginning their ascent. Good luck to them all—I thought. I prefer not to screw around with storms.
Quandary is one of the easier fourteeners to climb, but it was still a challenge. I felt terribly exhausted afterward and was still sore two days later. It showed me that I can climb fourteeners when not in the best of shape, but being in better shape allows me to enjoy the experience more. I will work hard to get ready for our next climbs.
07-04-05
After a failed attempt to snow climb Quandary in March, my Dad and I were eager to summit the peak for our first climb of the summer. Shortly after 4:00 AM we packed our gear into my Dad’s car and set off. This time we were able to drive right up to the trailhead to park (last time there was too much snow). Surprisingly, the parking lot was not crowded. Holidays are always terrible days to climb if you’re looking for solitude, but we encountered far fewer people than I expected.
(Quandary Peak, as seen from Hoosier Pass)
We were both glad that we had packed jackets and long pants because it was quite cold. My hands froze up after only ten minutes of hiking and did not function very well until we left the treeline and the sun warmed us up. We were able to shed our jackets---for a little while at least.
The trail was much easier to follow this time since it was not covered in a few feet of snow. The most popular—and easiest—route to Quandary’s summit in years past was via the Monte Cristo trail. A few years ago the Colorado Fourteener Initiative closed down the old trail for landscape restoration. We saw the old trail branching off from the new one, and I immediately understood the mistake we made during our snow climb; we lost the new, well-marked trail and followed the old trail until we eventually lost it and began trailblazing up a 45 degree slope. We were, in fact, actually on Mt. Quandary the entire time and not mistakenly on Mt. Wheeler, as I thought when I wrote about our last attempt. So we’re not completely inept hikers, it seems. We did, however, take a much harder route for the snow climb, which is why we ultimately failed.
The trail became more difficult once we entered a boulder field. It was not as long or rough as the boulder field on Mt. of the Holy Cross, but it was still interminable and rough on the feet. I spotted a female mountain goat with a baby by her side, but some hikers in front of us had brought three dogs with them. The dogs began chasing the mountain goats until they dashed out of sight over a ridge. I was irritated with the other hikers and their dogs since I’ve always wanted to take some close-up photos of mountain goats. Another lost opportunity. Oh well.
The final 150 to 200 feet of the ascent to the summit slowed us down. Slushy snow covered the rocks and made us slip around, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable since slipping a little to far to either side would mean a three hundred foot tumble down the side of the mountain. The wind began to increase at that point, which did not help anything. My Dad had his trekking poles, so he negotiated the snow almost effortlessly. I had a harder time but eventually made it to the summit after a few minor slips.
From the summit we had a beautiful view of three peaks we climbed last summer: Mt. Democrat, Mt. Lincoln, and Mt. Bross. The wind on the summit was some of the strongest I’ve ever encountered. We ducked behind some boulders and rested for a few minutes before heading back down.
(From left to right: Bross, Lincoln, Democrat)
(View from the summit)
As always, the descent goes extremely faster. For a while. The boulder field killed my feet on the way down, and by the time we reached the treeline my legs were trembling. We were back into the trees before noon right as dark clouds began to cover the summit. Despite the obvious presence of storm clouds about the summit, we still passed numerous hikers just beginning their ascent. Good luck to them all—I thought. I prefer not to screw around with storms.
Quandary is one of the easier fourteeners to climb, but it was still a challenge. I felt terribly exhausted afterward and was still sore two days later. It showed me that I can climb fourteeners when not in the best of shape, but being in better shape allows me to enjoy the experience more. I will work hard to get ready for our next climbs.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Library Adventures, Episode 342: The Rare Book
While reshelving some fiction books this morning at work, I came across an interesting novel: an ancient hardcover book, smaller than a paperback. I flipped to the publishing info page and discovered that it had been published in 1892 in the Pikes Peak region. I can't recall the name of the author nor the title of the novel, but I had never heard of either. Stamps covered the first few pages reading "Property of the Public Library of the City of Colorado Springs"---the single library that existed long before the Pikes Peak Library District and its many branches. Not only was the book 113 years old, it was a first edition signed by the author to a friend named "Mrs. Clarke."
I immediately showed the book to a coworker who seemed unimpressed and told me that the library has plenty of rare books on the shelves. She showed me a particular first edition book that she claimed was worth a small fortune. I asked the obvious question: how can rare books such as these be available to the public?! The drooling, vulgar masses! The coffee-spillers who let their dogs trample and gnaw books as if they were chew toys! (cynical, I know). The only other option, she explained, would be to place rare books in the Archives at the Penrose library downtown where very few people could ever see them, much less read them. I thought that that sounded like an excellent idea and told her as much. She then made up a ridiculous hypothetical story to prove her point: a mother puts her children to sleep after a long day at work, makes herself a cup of tea, sits down on her couch, and reads a rare novel she checked out from the library. If the book had been in the Archives, this same woman might have been able to read the book---under supervision in the stuffy archives room where no comfortable furniture exists. My coworker was satisfied with herself. I tried not to laugh.
Soon after, I brought the book to my supervisor. Her reaction surprised me. She flipped through the book excitidedly, saying things like, "oh my!" and "this is amazing!" over and over again. The fact that a signed first edition was available for checkout shocked her as well (although she didn't mention anything about the vulgar masses). After a few more minutes of examining the book, she told me to send it off for review. Someone knowledgeable about rare books will examine the novel and decide what to do with it. Granted, it's not a first edition Hawthorne or Poe novel or anything, but it was published locally and is a part of Colorado Springs history. I'm betting that it will end up in the Archives.
While reshelving some fiction books this morning at work, I came across an interesting novel: an ancient hardcover book, smaller than a paperback. I flipped to the publishing info page and discovered that it had been published in 1892 in the Pikes Peak region. I can't recall the name of the author nor the title of the novel, but I had never heard of either. Stamps covered the first few pages reading "Property of the Public Library of the City of Colorado Springs"---the single library that existed long before the Pikes Peak Library District and its many branches. Not only was the book 113 years old, it was a first edition signed by the author to a friend named "Mrs. Clarke."
I immediately showed the book to a coworker who seemed unimpressed and told me that the library has plenty of rare books on the shelves. She showed me a particular first edition book that she claimed was worth a small fortune. I asked the obvious question: how can rare books such as these be available to the public?! The drooling, vulgar masses! The coffee-spillers who let their dogs trample and gnaw books as if they were chew toys! (cynical, I know). The only other option, she explained, would be to place rare books in the Archives at the Penrose library downtown where very few people could ever see them, much less read them. I thought that that sounded like an excellent idea and told her as much. She then made up a ridiculous hypothetical story to prove her point: a mother puts her children to sleep after a long day at work, makes herself a cup of tea, sits down on her couch, and reads a rare novel she checked out from the library. If the book had been in the Archives, this same woman might have been able to read the book---under supervision in the stuffy archives room where no comfortable furniture exists. My coworker was satisfied with herself. I tried not to laugh.
Soon after, I brought the book to my supervisor. Her reaction surprised me. She flipped through the book excitidedly, saying things like, "oh my!" and "this is amazing!" over and over again. The fact that a signed first edition was available for checkout shocked her as well (although she didn't mention anything about the vulgar masses). After a few more minutes of examining the book, she told me to send it off for review. Someone knowledgeable about rare books will examine the novel and decide what to do with it. Granted, it's not a first edition Hawthorne or Poe novel or anything, but it was published locally and is a part of Colorado Springs history. I'm betting that it will end up in the Archives.
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