11 Tips for Hiking 14ers Like a Grown Up

Step 1: Wear obnoxiously bright colors. (Just kidding. Sort of.)

1. The Information Is Out There

Don't ask for information on Quandary's East Ridge in August. There's no faster way to rile up the masses. If you have a question about the 14ers, it's already been posed and answered at least a dozen times. Invest energy in doing your own research. I promise, it's more fulfulling. The search function on the 14ers.com forum is easy to use, and there are thousands of archived trip reports containing everything you need to know. Nearly a half-dozen guidebooks specific to the 14ers exist. Pick one (or several) and read them. Still have a question? Frame it in a thoughtful, intelligent way and post it on the 14ers.com forum or Facebook group. The answers will arrive within minutes.

2. Do Your Homework

I can't emphasize this enough. Whether it's arrogance or naivety, too many people head into the backcountry with little to no information. Study your intended route. Read trip reports. A shockingly large number of accidents are caused by hikers getting off-route, and it's heartbreaking that many of these are avoidable. Fancy GPS units with programmed waypoints are a nice supplement, but they're not a replacement for genuine knowledge and intuition. A map is essential. There's no excuse for not carrying one -- free software such as Caltopo.com is readily available for easy printing.

3. Be Self Sufficient

Traveling in groups is a double-edged sword. Yes, there's an added measure of safety. The dynamics can also lead to a false sense of security. Regardless of party size, always ask yourself: "Could I make it up and down this mountain on my own, survive a night out if I become stranded, and somehow get the attention of Search & Rescue if necessary?" If the answer is no, pick another objective.

Carry and know how to use the 10 Essentials (see video below). Either bring more water than you think you'll need or a purification system. Most 14er routes cross or follow streams -- if you do your homework (hinthint), you'll know where to find them. If you don't want to invest in or haul a traditional filter, iodine tablets are cheap and weigh next to nothing. Sure, they taste terrible, but that's preferable to dehydration.

A whiteout in August is not uncommon. Be prepared.

4. Start Early

Yeah, that 5 a.m. alarm sucks. It's also your ticket to safety and success. A summer afternoon free of thunderstorms is rare in the Colorado high country. The risk of death via lightning may be overblown, but no one that's been caught above treeline in a thunderstorm is jumping to repeat the experience. For most 14er routes I aim to start at first light, which generally comes between 6-7 a.m. I'll start earlier for high-mileage days. Just get up and go. Missing out on an hour of sleep is better than having to turn around or putting yourself in a life-threatening situation.

5. Leave No Trace

I wish I was kidding, but last summer I saw a group hitting golf balls off Grays Peak. People have left lawn chairs, grills, toasters, flags and even human excrement on summits. On top of these extravagant affronts, there's the routine garbage such as food wrappers and discarded summit signs. The Front Range is attracting more and more people, and the overcrowding on 14ers is only going to get worse. Respect the resource; leave the backcountry as you found it. Take your summit signs down with you (or better yet, don't bring them in the first place), remove your trash, dispose properly of human waste, camp responsibly, follow Wilderness and Forest Service guidelines and most importantly, don't be a golf ball-hitting jackass.

Standard crowded 14er summit.

6. Respect Other Trail Users

We all hike for our own reasons, using our own methods. Want to smoke pot, let your dog off leash or blast music from a portable speaker? I'm not going to turn you in to the fun police -- as long as you aren't disturbing the experience of other hikers. Leash the dog if it's being a nuisance, find a spot off trail to smoke and turn down the music when you see other people approaching. If someone is faster than you, let them pass. Give a brief greeting to people heading the opposite direction and yield the trail if necessary. (The general agreement is that uphill hikers have the right-of-way, but most of them won't pass up a chance to stop for a breather. Communicate.) Mutual respect really isn't that hard.

7. The Mountain Ain't Going Anywhere

Smart decision making is not synonymous with failure. Many hikers consider it a point of pride to have only turned back "X number of times" because of weather, fatigue or other factors. It's not. There's more honor in good judgment than putting yourself in a dangerous situation to tag a meaningless summit. Listen to your body. Trust your instincts. Watch the sky. Turn around if necessary and return to the mountain when conditions are more favorable. Not only will you reduce the risks, I guarantee you'll also have a more enjoyable summit.

My first time on Capitol I called it quits at the subsummit "K2" because of slick rock, cloudy skies and a forecast that called for an 80 percent chance of thunderstorms after 9 a.m. Most of my party continued on, summited in a whiteout and safely returned to camp. The lightning started soon after. I returned three weeks later on a warm, cloudless day. Even with the benefit of hindsight and knowing my friends experienced no major issues on the first trip, I'd make that same decision 10 out of 10 times. You can only toss so many dice before you roll snake eyes.

A gloomy morning on "K2."

8. Put Effort into a Trip Report

Title: "Mt. Quandry - East Ridge"
Pictures: 3 (one rotated off-axis)
Words: "We climbed Quandry yesterday. It was crowded. Dan had a peanut butter sandwich on the summit. I could see Pike's Peak. On the way down I tripped on a loose rock. Overall the hike was fun."

Would you want to read that? No one else does, either.

(It's Quandary Peak, by the way. Mt. Lindsey. Longs Peak. Pikes Peak. Mt. Bierstadt. Grays Peak. Torreys Peak.)

Writing a trip report should be fun. Don't make it work, you're not getting paid for it. Relive your experience and inject some energy into the content. Tell the story of your hike. Include personal anecdotes, or if that's not your thing, provide unique details about the route and trail conditions. Trip reports are personal endeavors. Photographer with no interest in writing? Share a photo essay. English major with nothing but a flip-phone camera? Stretch that sucker out to 1,500 words. Bottom line, make the report interesting. Consider your audience and what they want to see, know and hear -- then deliver.

9. Share the Stoke

Whether you took a vacation from sea level to hike Mt. Sherman or just jogged Capitol Peak as a daytrip, you've just notched an awesome life accomplishment. Celebrate it. Share your photos on Facebook. Write a trip report or blog post. Blow up Instagram for a week. It's OK to be proud of yourself. More importantly, fellow hikers will benefit from your reports on conditions, the route and the overall experience. It's easy for veteran climbers to forget what it was like to try their first summit, first Class 3 or first couloir. It's always on to the next challenge, with little time for the rear-view mirror. Forget 'em. For every blowhard rolling their eyes at your accomplishment, there are 10 people who will find it inspiring.

Me (left), exhibiting my stance on selfie sticks. But hey, to each their own.

However...

10. Stay Humble

You are not a special snowflake. Regardless what you've accomplished, many people came before and many more will follow. Narcissism is a widespread disease in the climbing community. It's a constant game of oneupsmanship. An impressive climbing resume does not make you an awesome person. To be honest, no one except you cares. Even if you've finished the 14ers and climbed Denali, it's not an excuse to talk down to or consider yourself above a fellow human being. Mountaineering often serves as a cornerstone for a climber's sense of personal worth, and I'm not saying that you shouldn't embrace those self-esteem boosts. They're awesome. Just don't let your head get lost in the clouds. It happens all too often.

11. Enjoy the Experience

There is no parade or world-shattering epiphany when you finish the 14ers. Life beats on as it always has. You get a little street cred, a certificate from the Colorado Mountain Club and a sentence for the "Other" section of your resume. That's about it. So, what's the rush? Swap those three-peak sufferfest weekends for setting up camp in Yankee Boy Basin and climbing only Mt. Sneffels. Breathe the mountain air, observe the wildflowers, linger on campfire conversations, pause to ponder the world under a twinkling blanket of stars. Those are the moments you'll remember, not your round-trip time on Pyramid Peak.

Slow down and enjoy the ride.

A Bond Between Strangers (Boudoir Couloir)

There's no point in denying it: Horseshoe Mountain's Boudoir Couloir is a flat-out classic. I'd already climbed it in 2011 as one of my first snow climbs, but when Speth suggested it for this weekend, I had no qualms about returning. This April is all about getting into shape for the Skillet Glacier, anyway. If a route has snow and vertical gain, I probably won't say no.

Boudoir Couloir is the obvious snow line left of center.

We were forced to park about a mile short of the standard starting point at Leavick due to lingering snow. A few poor souls had tried to drive a bit farther. Carnage ensued. Three-foot-deep tire tracks, busted wooden boards, a wrecked tow strap and, of course, their abandoned vehicles. All that to avoid walking an extra five minutes. Human nature is a funny thing.

Speth and I were walking by about 7:30 a.m. My memory had blocked out the difficulties of the approach, and for some reason I thought it would only take us about an hour to reach the base of the couloir. In reality, including the extra slog to Leavick, it took us three. A little less than a mile from Leavick is a road that branches off left and crosses Fourmile Creek. Follow it as it switchbacks up a couple hundred feet to break treeline, then make a straight shot for Horseshoe's namesake amphitheater. Many options exist to reach the base of the couloir. Gerry Roach's guidebook suggests angling to hiker's right around two small lakes. As the lakes remained solidly frozen, we took a more direct line straight across.

On the final approach. (Photo by Matt Speth.)

We reached the base of the couloir around 10:30 a.m. I'd normally be nervous about starting an east-facing spring snow climb so late, but the temperatures were mild and a stiff breeze kept everything firm. Speth hadn't even used snowshoes for the approach. While gearing up with crampons, helmets and ice axes, we were joined by fellow 14ers.com members BKS (Brian) and eskermo. Brian also had his 2-year-old labradoodle, Charley.

Being an English nerd, I was absolutely tickled by the company of a poodle named Charley. Surely his owner must be a Steinbeck fan? Actually, no -- it was a total coincidence. Charley was a joyful companion, and I used the encounter for the title of this blog entry. If you don't know what I'm talking about, famous novelist John Steinbeck (Of Mice and Men, The Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, etc.) wrote a travelogue in the 1960s about a year-long road trip across America with his full-size poodle, Charley. Travels with Charley is one of my favorite travel books. Contained within is the quote, "Dogs are a bond between strangers." How true is that?

We started switchbacking up the apron on perfect snow. Our boots were sinking in to about lace-level and the crampons bit hard. It was much more relaxing than the first time I'd climbed Boudoir on bulletproof névé.

An intermittent old boot-pack existed in the middle of the couloir. I tried to use it at times, but given the moderate angle and great snow conditions, switchbacking was much more efficient.

About halfway up.

Me, nearing the constriction. (Photo by Matt Speth.)

A truly unique amphitheater.

Speth gives a thumbs up near the top. (Photo by Matt Speth.)

Charley, Speth and Brian approach the summit plateau.

In addition to being an aesthetic line, what makes Boudoir special is the spectacular setting. Horseshoe Mountain's entire east face is a half-moon of near-vertical cliffs. Boudoir offers the only easy passage. Rest breaks were passed giddily spying other potential snow, ice and mixed lines in the breathtaking amphitheater.

What else makes Boudoir a must-do? The direct finish over a mini-cornice onto the summit plateau. Immediately above the exit is a remarkably intact old mining cabin, which we crawled inside to escape the increasing wind. Views of the Sawatch, Sangre de Cristo, Tenmile and Mosquito ranges did not disappoint. We ditched our packs and most of our gear inside the cabin before strolling over to tag the true summit.

Mining cabin on the summit.

Every mountain should have a wind cabin.

Travels with Charley.

Group on the true summit.

Normally I would have suggested walking off the standard Northeast Slopes route, but the Skillet Glacier will require downclimbing snow up to and including 50 degrees. I figured I might as well practice walking down moderate/steep snow as much as possible. It was still a bit firm for easy plunge-stepping. Once we were through the constriction and the angle began to relent, we popped off our crampons and glissaded the rest of the way in a matter of minutes.

Walking down. (Photo by Matt Speth.)

One last look at Boudoir. Until next time!

We followed our tracks out and reached the car only two hours after leaving the summit. Glissading is awesome. The wind had even kept the snow remarkably firm for an April afternoon. No waist-deep postholing in snowshoes necessary. A perfect spring day. We did have a bit of difficulty finding a dining option in Fairplay given the Easter holiday and my low-carb kick this month, but we eventually settled in at McCall's Park Bar. Let's just say a 1/4-pound buffalo burger with no bun and a side salad is no match for a post-hike appetite. It's going to be a long month...

Thanks for reading.