THIS GUY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!There's really no acceptable excuse for our lack of posts lately, other than to say we've been a bit busy. Monday was Labor Day, so Lauren took advantage of her day off by scoring a free ticket to the Snowmass Jazz Fest. While I was hard at work, my wife spent the night enjoying a contact high and grooving to the vocal stylings of Matisyahu, who most critics will tell you, is amongst the handful of top
Hasidic Jew rappers America has to offer.
Tuesday brought a short hike after work, Wednesday night I worked late, and Thursday we celebrated the start of the 2006 NFL campaign with home-made buffalo wings.
Friday, as tradition dictates, Lauren met me downtown at the J-Bar for happy hour. More wings were consumed, Fat Tires were imbibed, and my old friend Tequila even made a brief, unexpected appearance. I'd like to think this lethal mix was to blame for my later being dealt an embarrassing shut-out defeat in shuffleboard, at the hands of some less-than-merciful Aspen locals. Now let us never speak of it again.
Finally, we get to Saturday... We woke to rain, marking the first time that's happened since we arrived over a month ago. Luckily, by the time we had finished our 8 AM yoga, the sun had reappeared, and clear skies and brisk, high-60's temps provided all the motivation we needed to head to the mountains for a hike.
Our goal this Saturday was Cathedral Lake, our first "big boy" hike. I say this because while we had done steeper (this would be a 2000 foot climb) and longer (this would be 6 miles round trip) , no hike had taken us higher (topping out at 12,000 ft) or more removed from civilization. These two characteristics combine to make adequate preparation key: at 12,000 feet, you are very exposed, and weather changes can be dramatic and dangerous (of course, you already know this if you've read my Pikes Peak post.)
Our goal was to reach Cathedral Lake, rumored by locals to be unparalleled in its beauty, but confirmed by our map to be a long way from anywhere
Above is the road to the trailhead. As you can see, there's really nowhere to pull over and grab a roast beef sandwich. In fact, the only structures that dotted the roadside were the remains of the old Ashcroft mining town, which has been uninhabited for a good 120 years now.
The start of the hike. If you look closely in the upper-middle-right corner of the photo, you can pick out a lone snow-covered peak amongst the rest of the landscape. That would be Cathedral Peak. It was at its base where we hoped to find the creatively named Cathedral Lake.
An absolutely amazing picture taken by Lauren. As we were nearing the end of our first climb, the pine treats abruptly gave way to endless fields of aspens, resulting in this dramatic shift in the surrounding hue from green to a brilliant gold. (Helpful Hint: click on the pictures and they'll enlarge)
Again, fall colors worthy of a coffee table book. Take note of the relatively cloudless, mostly clear skies. This information will be relevant later.
Midway through our hike, we stumbled upon these two feral dogs fighting over the femur of a recently felled elk. Ignore the fancy collars and the impeccable grooming -- and the fact that the elk femur really, really looks like a stick -- I assure you those dogs were ferocious. It was only with some some quick thinking and my wife's ever-present supply of emergency bacon that we were able to escape with our lives.
After an hour and a half of hiking, the lake was nowhere in sight. The guidebook had said the last climb up to the lake would be "extremely steep and scenic," but we had experienced nothing but rolling flats through endless boulder fields for a good half-mile. Just as morale reached its nadir, we spotted our inspiration off in the distance: people. Little people. No, not the kind of little people that used to join forces and wrestle Andre the Giant, much to the delight of Freddie Fares. I mean little people as in the way people look from a plane little.
There were two of them, nearly three hundred feet above us on an obscenely narrow, ridiculously steep chute of dirt of grass lined on one side by trees, and on the other by a sheer rock wall. If you're looking at the picture above, you can see this last climb to the lake yourself, in the upper-middle portion of photo.
We took the climb very slowly, which, to be honest, is really the only way one CAN take it. After nearly two hours and 2,000 feet of climbing, this last ascent was a killer, burning our quads as it gained nearly 350 feet in a mere seven turns. The footing was a touch on the perilous side, but with a deliberate, determined approach, we made it to the top unscathed.
After the climb, only a quarter of a mile of gentle descending separated us from our goal. At this point, we had settled in a valley framed by 13,000 foot peaks and dramatic rock spires. Again, take notice of the nice weather we were enjoying.
Finally. It was a long time coming, but we made it to the lake. As you can see, it was worth the wait. To be fair, there isn't a lens wide enough to capture everything necessary to adequately represent the breath-taking panorama this spot provided, but we did our best. Our only regret was at a brisk 50 degrees or so of ambient temperature, the bathing suits we had been told to bring along for an impromptu dip in the lake would never emerge from our backpacks. 
Yeah, this will probably be adorning the Nitti family's Christmas Card this winter. It pretty much has it all...a brilliant blue sky, a snow capped peak, a tranquil lake, and to top it all off, me and my girl wrapped in an ebrace, cherishing the effort it took to get there.
About that brilliant blue sky...
As were sitting at the lake's edge, fueling up on PB&Js for the long hike home, I looked out at Cathedral Peak and noticed something ominous: clouds. Dark clouds. Dark, fast moving, low-lying clouds. Just as I said to Lauren and Chelsea, "I don't like the looks of this weather," the skies opened up. Only it wasn't rain. It was snow, and lots of it. Within 3 minutes, our clear skies had turned into a driving blizzard, at one point reducing visibility to maybe 50 yards. Luckily, we had come prepared as far as clothing, but the simple fact was, we were now caught in a storm at 12,000 feet, which is rarely a good place to be.
Eager to get below tree level, where hopefully warmer temps awaited, we hiked with a "controlled fury," meaning a sense of urgency with a committment to safety. The perilous descent down the steep switchbacks was of course my biggest concern. We took it one by one, making sure to avoid planting our feet on rocks that would now be slick with snow. At this point, the snow was coming in sideways, and the temperature had dropped over 20 degrees.
Once down to the flatter boulder fields, we moved as quickly as we could, and just as we resigned ourselves to a long, wet, cold trip back to the car, the sun re-emerged.
We slowly thawed, and within minutes, it was hard to believe we had really experienced what had just transpired. The weather shift was so abrubt, so without warning, it taught us each a lesson about complacency at high altitude. It's one we won't soon forget.
Talk to you soon.
Everyone had that one buddy in junior high who just couldn't bring himself to go along with the status quo. While you and your friends were free-styling the latest Fresh Prince album, he was alone in his room jamming to the Dead Milkmen. While you were watching 90210, he was taping Mystery Science Theater. And while you were working on your jump shot or mastering the finer points of the curve ball, he was eschewing the "traditional" sports in favor of skateboarding and ultimate frisbee.
