The concentration of oxygen at sea level is about 21% and the barometric pressure averages 760 mmHg. As altitude increases, the concentration remains the same but the number of oxygen molecules per breath is reduced. At 12,000 feet (3,658 meters) the barometric pressure is only 483 mmHg, so there are roughly 40% fewer oxygen molecules per breath. – The OA Guide to High Altitude

I was the second person at the trail head. The weather didn’t look great, it was damp and cloudy, but wasn’t especially threatening. I expected light rain, possibly even hail, but didn’t see either during the hike. The trail itself was pretty muddy from showers the night before but that didn’t present any real problems until the final 400 or so feet.

I moved quickly through the initial switchbacks. This is an amazing beautiful trail through alpine forest, small streams and waterfalls, and small lakes. I had the trail completely to myself until I reached the highpoint. Traveling solo in this kind of territory is new experience for me but I loved every minute of it.

I didn’t really notice the altitude until 11,300 but even then it didn’t give me too many problems. I had a little less power but felt great. Very few breaks were required throughout the hike and when I did stop to catch my breath I noticed that my recovery time was much improved. The few breaks that I did take lasted no longer than a few seconds. It felt good to keep pushing up.

Somewhere around 11,400 or 11,500 you leave the treeline and Engineer Mountain comes into view. The scene is stunning and well worth the hike. My camera phone doesn’t do it justice.

First View of Engineer Mountain from Pass Creek Trail

A couple hundred yards up the meadow and you run into intersecting trails at the “T”. I was feeling strong so I took the steep rocky, and today quite muddy, path directly up Engineer. What followed was a bit of a struggle but fun. Slipping was a constant threat but my trekking poles and careful foot placement kept me moving up despite the mud. I had to occasionally move off trail a few feet but eventually made it to an awesome bit of rock that allowed amazing views of the valley and rock glacier to my left.

iew from 12,050 Feet on Engineer Mountain

It had taken me less than two hours to reach this point. That’s not record time but I’m happy with the way my body responded to the altitude. I even briefly considered moving further up to around 12,500 or so but decided that I didn’t want to tackle the even steeper muddy trail above.

I hung out at 12,100 for a while. A trio of college girls (or recent graduates) caught up with me and said they were going to the summit. I wished them luck before tackling the steep muddy descent. The descent turned out to be easier and faster than anticipated – largely because I moved a few feet to the right of the trail, into a rocky gully, and avoided the mud. Once I was back to the intersecting trails heading down was predictably easy and fast. I moved quickly and only stopped to chat with hikers on their way up.

This hike was worth the trip in itself but my main goal was to test myself and get some altitude prior to our 14er attempts. That adventure starts Saturday morning with a 6 mile hike 3,000 feet up to about 11,200. I’m a little more confident (just a little) after this morning’s hike.

Training

15 months and just over 100 pounds ago I decided that I was going to climb mountains. It was a horribly unrealistic goal for an overweight asthmatic who lives at altitude zero in Houston, Texas but that was the point. I knew that I’d need a significant challenge to keep me motivated to become physically fit. Besides, I’d always wanted to climb. One of my co-workers at the time, Jermaine Gonzales, had similar goals and decided to commit himself to the challenge as well. To further ratchet up the pressure I told everyone I knew about our goals and went public with it by launching neverstopclimbing.com. I was committed and begin training two hours, or more, almost every day.

We reached our first summit just five months later with a climb of Guadalupe Peak in West Texas. The hike to 8,751 feet is very strenuous but not difficult by climbing standards. Still, it was progress and it allowed me to turn my focus toward a significantly more difficult challenge – Colorado’s 14ers.

Climbers, real climbers, were following our progress by this point and we were receiving lots of encouragement and advice. However, climber Alan Arnette really went above and beyond in offering support. After the successful summit of Guadalupe Peak he invited us to Colorado for an April attempt at a Belford, Oxford, Missouri combo – a significant challenge for guys in our position.

We trained hard but the initial attempt didn’t go well. Deep soft snow, heavy packs, and fitness levels that had improved, but not improved enough for the challenge, stopped the attempt in the first few hours. It was a very painful physical and emotional failure. It was time to go back to Houston and regroup.

After returning to Houston we faced different challenges. Jermaine was laid-off and I was laid up with a bad case of the flu. Climbing goals moved to the background for 2-3 months. Eventually those difficulties passed and I resumed training. In July I called Alan Arnette and suggested that we try again. Plans came together quickly for a September attempt. Unfortunately, Jermaine’s work situation wouldn’t allow him to train or climb for some time so I would be the only one making this trip.

The Climb

We set our attempt for Saturday, September 26th and it turned out to be a perfect day for climbing. Two days of relative cold and snow had faded and we were left with clear skies and relatively mild temperatures. We started off, before dawn, at about 6 AM. It was in the upper twenties (F) but I was comfortable in a synthetic tee and Marmot PreCip. One of the tough parts of this climb (okay, almost all of it was tough) is the start. You don’t get to ease into Belford. Leaving the trailhead you cross a bridge over a fast moving stream and then move almost immediately up, and up, and up. The switchbacks are steep and tough on the lungs. This is where Alan’s advice on pacing myself by using the short step and rest step really helped. Slow and steady beats sprinting and stopping but mastering that is far more difficult than it sounds. It’s something I would struggle with the entire day. Still, it paid off and we maintained a 700 foot per hour climb rate for the first couple of hours. It wasn’t a blistering pace but it was workable.

My second challenge of the day came at the next stream crossing. The stream is fast moving but not especially deep or dangerous. It’s just that you have to cross the 15-20 foot span on three small (and very bendy under my weight) tree trunks that span the gap. It takes a fair amount of balance since each trunk is a different size and flexes differently. I did far better than I’d hoped and we continued up along the other side of the stream, and it’s waterfalls, to the abandoned trapper’s cabin that marks the beginning of the basin that leads to Belford’s west ridge.

It was here, just after passing the cabin, that I got a view of Belford’s snow covered Northwest ridge. It was awe inspiring and more than a little intimidating. I’d looked at hundreds of photos of the ridge before the climb but none of them prepared me for the scale and steepness that loomed ahead. I immediately had doubts about my ability to summit. The ridge rises over 2,300 feet in less than a mile – factor in snow, mud, and the altitude and it’s quite a challenge for your first 14er.

The base of the ridge is just over a mile from the cabin and the altitude gain is gradual. However, it was here that I first started to really feel the altitude. My pace slowed and my doubts increased but we made it to the base of the ridge and discussed our approach. The initial 300-400 feet was intimidating since it’s nearly vertical. Again Alan cautioned me not to focus on the summit and instead focus on shorter, less intimidating, goals. From here on out the physical challenges (for me) would be immense but the physiological challenge of pushing myself higher and harder than ever before required constant focus and commitment.

The trip up the ridge was initially pretty encouraging because the progress in altitude was immediately noticeable. However, getting to the summit, another 2,000 feet higher, would prove to be quite a challenge. I didn’t have any signs of altitude sickness, my leg muscles felt really strong, but the lack of oxygen just left me feeling like I was operating on progressively less power. I later told Alan that it felt like someone had a power knob and turned it down a few notches with every 500 foot gain. Above 12,000 feet everything was more difficult. Above 13,000 feet the game changed entirely, and above 14,000 feet I was sucking more than the Houston Texans on game day.

The Summit

Alan showed great patience with me as we progressed (slowly) up the ridge. However, time started to become an issue. We needed to make the summit and be off the ridge, if not the trail entirely, before sunset. Descending the steep ridge in snow, ice, and mud would be challenging , time consuming, and very dangerous in the dark. At about 13,700 feet he issued an ultimatum – summit by 2 PM or call the climb. That left us with an hour to climb the remaining 500 feet. That’s a challenge that seems trivial at sea level but I didn’t know if it would be possible at the time. It would become even more challenging as we neared the false summit at nearly 14,000 feet and were blasted by strong cold winds that took my breath away. I really didn’t need breathing to become more difficult at that point. With 200 vertical feet and thirty minutes to go I was determined but I can’t say that I was confident. Nevertheless, we scrambled up the remaining rocks and snow to reach Belford’s summit block at 2:05 PM. Thankfully, Alan bent his timeline just a little.

The Descent

The summit visit was short. My primary focus was hydrating and fueling up for the difficult descent. I sat down, rested, and tried to take it all in but I didn’t really think much about the moment until much later. I knew getting down would be tough. Fifteen minutes later we were on our way down. Alan led the way and found a much steeper but more direct path down to the ridge. It was during this descent of the false summit that I had a rock slide away under my foot and took a pretty hard fall – destroying one of my Leki trekking poles. This was a pretty significant liability for me with the steep and slippery 2,300 foot descent ahead. Alan and I tried to bend the bottom third of the pole back into position but it was fractured and broke off entirely. I’d have to descend with one pole that was much shorter than the other. Alan is pretty nimble and graciously offered me one of his poles but I wasn’t going to let my fall jeopardize his safety (even a little) and refused.

We started down again, quite fast, and I made do by switching off my poles so that the longest one was always on my outside hand and the shortest was inside against the higher slope. It was a bit of a pain but serviceable. I think Alan even found the slippery slope a bit aggravating, I heard “I’m sick of this snow” more than once, but we made it to the bottom of the ridge in less than two hours. It was a huge relief.

We encountered a lone climber at the base of the ridge who was scanning nearby Missouri Mountain. Two members of the team that has passed us earlier were missing and he was concerned. We stayed for a while and helped look for the missing climbers but saw nothing. We moved on after asking if messages needed to be relayed once we reached the trailhead. Moving on towards the cabin we encountered three more from the party who were also waiting for the missing pair. We told them that we’d just summited Belford and that it was my first 14er and their response triggered my first real reflection on what I’d just done. They were quite surprised and one of them said “Nice. That thing is straight up!” With the most dangerous part behind us it was finally a pretty gratifying moment. Again we offered whatever assistance we could but they seemed pretty confident that their team was coming down by an alternate route and we moved on. We encountered them again, much later on, and found that all members of their party had been accounted for – thankfully.

The ride back to Belford was fun. The pressure was off and there was obvious satisfaction at reaching my first 14er summit. It wasn’t pretty, didn’t break any records, but I did it and learned much from the experience. The altitude and cardio requirements were challenging but didn’t keep me from the summit. I had leg strength in abundance and the endurance to spend nearly a full day climbing and descending. I had no idea if asthma and high altitude would present a hard limit for me but on this day they did not and that too is encouraging. In short, I still have a ton of work to do but I now know, beyond all doubt, that I can climb mountains.

The only fitting way to close out this trip report is with thanks to Alan Arnette. His willingness to serve as a mentor is inspiring and something that I hope to be able to pass on to another aspiring climber someday. For now it’s back to training and eventually thoughts about the next mountain – sometime in 2010.

Final Thoughts on Gear

Marmot PreCip – Just an awesome jacket. Light, tough, great pocket setup, and workable in a very wide variety of temperatures. I never had to unpack my fleece although it was tempting at the summit where it was quite cold. Highly recommended.

Suunto Core Watch – I think the seal popped at 14k feet and the watch worked intermittently the rest of the descent. There might not be a better option for a climber’s watch but I’m pretty unhappy that it failed when I needed it most. It’s possible, likely even, that I didn’t get the seal set correctly when last replacing the battery but whatever the reason it looks like I need a new watch.

Leki Trekking Poles – Yes, one of mine broke but I don’t fault Leki at all. Great product.

Vasque Breeze Boots – I usually have quite a bit of foot pain on hikes of ten miles or more. These boots took 9,000 feet of alttidude changes, eight miles, snow, ice, and mud in stride. My feet never got wet and the toes never got too cold. I had less foot pain at the end of this climb than I’ve ever had for a day hike. I did have a blister on each big toe at the end of the day but think that was inevitable after the day we had and I didn’t even notice them until the boots were removed.

Green Superfeet Insoles – Also a great product. A significant factor in the decent state of my feet at the end of the day. Wouldn’t climb/hike without them.

REI Switchback Gloves – I just used the liners all day and they were completely comfortable even in fairly strong winds. I never took the shells out of the pack but have no doubt that they would workable in less favorable conditions.

Deuter Futura Pro 42 Pack – My all time favorite. We went light and I had less than a twenty pound load (mostly water) but this pack always rides and ventilates well.

Seirus Innovation Quick Clava – Used it above 13k when the winds picked up and the temps dropped. Does the job and really comfortable. Highly recommended.

Buff – Used when the temps were warm – above 30F. I also used it like a balaclava for a bit when the winds picked up without warning. Great product in the heat or cold.

Julbo Dolgan Glacier Glasses – Another indispensable product. These didn’t come off after mid-day and I didn’t suffer any eyestrain or snow blindness.

Rough Timeline
Leave Houston – Tuesday – 04/21/09 – 6:00 PM
Arrive Leadville, Colorado – Wednesday 04/22/09 PM
John, Jermaine, Alan establish camp – Friday 04/24/09 – AM
Jim arrives at camp – Friday 04/24/09 – PM
John, Jermaine, Alan & Jim attempt Belford, then Oxford – Saturday 04/25/09
Robert and Patrick arrive at camp – Saturday 04/25/09 – PM
Jim may have to leave after Belford & Oxford – Saturday 04/25/09 PM
Group attempts Missouri – Sunday 04/26/09 AM
Group hikes out – Monday 04/27/09 AM

Satellite Tracking
SPOT Messenger Updates (?)

Twitter
TeamNSC – We’ll be sending periodic “OK” status updates to this Twitter account from our SPOT satellite messenger in addition to any other updates we can get out.
Johnwlittle (John Little)
Jgonzales (Jermaine Gonzales)
Alanarnette (Alan Arnettte)

We may not be able to respond to messages during the climb but we might be able to read them so feel free to send them on. We’ll reply when we can.

Photos
Photo set from our arrival in Leadville
Some shots taken at sunrise on day 2.

Weather
National Weather Service

Avalanche Watches and Warnings
Colorado Avalanche Information Center

Archive
Pre-Climb Preparation Updates
Climb Announcement

Guadalupe Peak
Texas High Point
Elevation: 8,749 feet (2,667 metres)
Coordinates: 31°53′28″N 104°51′36″W

An Early Start
We’d arrived at Guadalupe Mountains National Park at dawn the following morning, hiked to Devil’s Hall and back (with no sleep whatsoever), and crashed out in our tents by 4 PM after setting alarms for 4 AM the following morning.

John Starting Out on the Guadalupe Peak Trail

The 4 AM wake-up wasn’t too much of a shock thanks to nearly 12 hours of sleep but it was still an ungodly early hour to be up. It was cool, perhaps in the upper 30s (fahrenheit) , with clear skies that revealed millions of stars. Jermaine and I both quickly, and quietly so as not to disturb the campers surrounding us, went to work breaking down tents, stuffing our backpacks, filling hydration packs, and munching on gorp and energy gels to fuel ourselves for the effort ahead. Lifting my pack to throw it into the bed of Jermaine’s truck for the short drive to the trail head was a shock. At 50-55 pounds it seemed heavier than ever but that’s exactly what we wanted for this training climb.

Jermaine Sleeping with his Eyes Open

We drove the short distance to the trailhead, parked, took a couple of photos, and started dialing in our packs. The trail to Guadalupe Peak isn’t really visible from the campsite even though its countless switchbacks crisscross the walls that tower a thousand feet above the lower camps. Maps tend to use straight lines to represent the long series of switchbacks so they don’t always accurately reveal what you are in for when you start this trip. We’d read dozens of trip reports and knew that the trail gained elevation quickly but didn’t really know what to expect otherwise.

Moving on to the trail I muttered something about keeping it “slow and steady” and lead off in the dark with my Black Diamond Spot headlamp lighting the way. I had no idea exactly how slow things would actually be until I ran out of breath about 30 feet later. Jermaine wasn’t fairing much better. We stopped a few seconds and moved on only to stop again a few feet later. We repeated this three or four times before I muttered something about failure not being an option. I think I dropped a few F-bombs as well. Privately, I was wondering how I could go from months of strenuous workouts to nearly being stopped dead in my tracks at the base of Guadalupe Peak but I wasn’t going to stop. I decided that the cold, altitude, pack, and early hour were all a shock to my system and that I’d eventually hit my groove if I could maintain a slow and steady pace. At this point I asked Jermaine to lead so that I could could focus more on getting into the zone.

John Climbing at Dawn

Climbing Higher
Jermaine did a great job of setting short-term goals and moving us slowly from point to point in that early hour. I did manage to find my groove and we found ourselves several hundred feet above our camp by sunrise. We started switching in and out of the lead position with the leader calling out hazards, mostly exposed areas, along the way. We’d stop occasionally to send status updates to Twitter or give our shoulders a rest but mostly we keep a slow steady pace that took us higher and higher up the wall.

Looking Back

Exposed
The Guadalupe Peak trail is fairly rugged. It’s almost entirely rocky and uneven. Some of the rock is quite slippery and it is not unusual for the narrow trail to also slope gently towards exposed drop offs that would easily prove fatal should you be unfortunate enough to slip. I can’t say it really concerned us much in those early hours. I think we were both more excited about gaining altitude than worried about falling but the standard leader’s joke when passing through the more dangerous sections was “Um, don’t fall here.”

Don’t Fall Here

While there was a healthy respect for these areas any fear was offset by the sheer awesomeness of standing two feet from the edge and surveying the landscape spreading out a thousand or more feet below and knowing that you reached that point under your own power. It’s a feeling that can’t be conveyed by photos, videos, or trip reports. You have to do it to fully grasp the impact.

Alpine Forest
We continued to gain elevation and move along the wall towards Pine Springs Canyon. At this point we moved up to a gap on the mountain’s shoulder which is exposed on two sides. From here you move around to the other, windier side, which shortly transitions into switchbacks that climb through an alpine forest. The view from this point was amazing so we paused for a moment. The 30-40 MPH winds were chilly but bearable. However, we were nearly knocked off our feet by a freak gust that must have exceeded 70 MPH. We were both rocked but instinctively leaned forward on our trekking poles at a 90 degree angle to minimize our profiles and managed to ride out the gust. It was an exciting but dangerous reminder of the unpredictability of mountain weather.

Temperatures started to fall as we climbed through the forest. We were no longer directly exposed to sunlight and we were catching strong winds. Heavier gloves came out and we moved on – wondering when the high camp would appear. We were still strong but busting 50+ pound packs uphill on rocky surfaces while getting pushed around by strong cold winds is hard work – very hard work.

Climbing higher we could see the vibrant fall colors of the trees in Pine Springs Canyon over a thousand feet below. The high walls of the canyon, that towered above us on our previous day’s hike to Devil’s Hallway, were now far below.

We busted out the new series of switchbacks for another few hundred feet of elevation gain and moved around to find a small valley bordered by 100-200 foot slopes on either side. We didn’t know it yet but the high camp is situated on the high point to the right at about 7,900 feet. It would take us another half hour to reach that spot and we were cursing the person who decided to place the backcountry camp site on a point above the trail.

High Camp
We were the first group into the site that day and had our pick of the few sites. The most popular site is surrounded on three sides by a small wall made of tree branches and rocks. However, there is another site before it that looks more exposed but sits in a naturally recessed area. The winds were really moving at this point, constantly high and probably gusting to 50 MPH, and it seemed that the recessed camp site was actually fairing better. We dropped our packs, decided to take a short break before setting up our tents, and found places to sit that were sheltered from the wind.

About 30 minutes later we both woke up. We had sprawled out on the cold ground, fallen asleep, and were now shivering like mad. Temperatures were dropping and the wind was picking up. We struggled to our feet and moved quickly, as quickly as we could, to erect our tents. We needed to get out of the wind and warm up.

Setting up tents in howling, and increasingly cold, winds is not a piece of cake. However, we were motivated and worked as a team to setup both quickly. Mine went up first. Jermaine actually had to get inside of it, while I worked outside, to keep it from blowing away at one point. Luckily, we had rope which we used to tie off the tents in every direction. Between rope, our gear, and large rocks placed in each tent, we managed to keep them in place. Still, large gusts of wind (some approaching minimal hurricane force) would come out of nowhere and nearly flatten them.

High Camp

With dove into our tents, cleaned up, and crawled into our sleeping bags. We were in pretty good condition but the nap on the cold ground and winds had sapped body heat and we were looking forward to warming up inside our tents. Our initial plan had been to setup camp, eat and relax, and then sprint for the summit but the increasing winds and diving temperatures forced us to push our summit plans back a few hours. We decided to crash out, get up well before dawn (when winds are typically lightest), and head for the summit without the 50 pound packs.

Freaky, Hellish Wind
We spent the next couple of hours eating and getting our gear sorted out. Occasionally we’d have to push back against the tent walls as huge gusts push them in. I’ve ridden out several hurricanes and tropical storms but this wind was just different. It wasn’t uniform. You could hear several different gusts moving around you. They often moved in slightly different directions and each had a unique sound. Some whistled, some swirled, some sounded like jet engines at full roar and it went on for hour after hour. We each fell asleep long before it died down. The tents would hold but one of my metal tent poles would actually be bent by the wind before things calmed down.

Summit Push
I’d told Jermaine that we’d get up at 4 AM for the summit push but woke up sometime in the night and decided to move the time up an hour and set my cell phone’s alarm for 3 AM. When it went off I hit the headlamp, reached for the phone, and accidentally took this photo.

John – Accidental 3 AM Self-Portrait

A minute or two later I called out to Jermaine to wake him up and we started reviewing our plan for the morning without leaving our respective tents. I had to take a large Canon 40D to the summit so I needed a pack. I didn’t have an extra day pack with me so I stripped my large pack of everything but the hydration bag, stuck the camera in it, and got ready move out. Jermaine also carried a liter of water.

We were off quickly, making our way down the slope back to the main trail, and up towards the final sets of switchbacks that curl around the mountain and up to the summit. It was bitterly cold, we were told later that rangers estimated it at 23 degrees fahrenheit before wind chill, but it didn’t effect us much while we were moving uphill. Moving in the dark, with only headlamps to light the way, was eerie. Sections of the remaining trail are quite exposed and it was not uncommon to turn to look left, right, or down and see nothing but utter darkness. The headlamps beam, with over a hundred foot range, found nothing to land on and just disappeared into nothingness. It was like hiking on a thin white line in space at times. The “don’t fall here” jokes came out again.

We moved across a small wooden bridge suspended over a gap in the cliff’s edge and across into another alpine forest. This one was sparser than the earlier, lower, forest and contained long switchbacks that climbed up to a rockier area. We were climbing above 8,000 feet at this point and would soon turn a corner where we’d see the silhouette of El Capitan in the darkness and what we could only assume to be the summit a few hundred feet above us to the right.

The switchbacks grew shorter and steeper as they curved up the peak. It became difficult to make out the path at some points and making our way over some of the large rocks on the way required careful movement. Frankly, by this point it seemed like the switchbacks were just going to continue forever even though it was apparent that there wasn’t much ground left to climb. We took our last short break at about 8,500 feet, turned off our headlamps, and stared out into the darkness that surrounded us. The sky above was filled with millions of stars and on the desert floor below we could see the occasional truck pass. From our vantage point they looked like tiny, slow moving, points of light. On the horizon, over a hundred miles away, we could see the lights of El Paso. It was a view worth suffering for.

We moved on again, hopeful that we were quite close, and we were. Just a few minutes later I’d turn to my right and catch the summit marker in my headlamp’s beam just 30 feet above. I yelled “We’re there!” and scrambled, as quickly as possible, the remaining distance to the marker. Jermaine joined me a minute later and we shook hands – relieved.

John at the Summit

We immediately started taking a few photos and pushed out a summit announcement via Twitter. We also made quick calls to our families. However, we’d stopped moving and the cold really started to set in. First our hands, then feet, began to suffer. We weren’t in danger but we were incredibly uncomfortable. We’d each take couple of photos and then have to stop, push our gloved hands back into our coats, and warm them up before attempting repeating the painful process again. Luckily, sunrise (and warmth) was only a few minutes away and we elected to stay on the summit to take more photos.

Happy to See the Sun

The rising sun revealed El Capitan and features in the desert that had remained hidden during our climb. The hour we spent on the summit started to pass quickly as the temperatures rose.

El Capitan from Guadalupe Peak at Sunrise

We shot a few more photos and then Jermaine pulled out the summit register contained in the old ammo box wedged under the summit marker. We read through it briefly and found entries ranging from inspirational to the comical.

Jermaine Gonzales Reads the Summit Register

We each signed the register and prepared to make our way down the mountain. Along the way, the temperature would rise quickly. We’d have to remove all the cold weather gear before even making it back to our tents.