I flip through the old CDs that we grabbed from Sam’s parents’ house. We’ve been listening to a Van Morrison album on our way west from Denver along HWY 285 in the middle of the night. Now Sam turns onto HWY 8, which is really just a bumpy dirt road, and I start to catch the first glimpses of the grand landscapes we’ve been driving through in darkness for the past two hours. Crests of rock and snow seem to be enclosing us from all around.
Sam reaches for the Lord of the Rings Soundtrack CD and puts it in the player. The grandeur of the orchestra fits these mountain scenes. This is my first real glimpse of the Colorado Rockies.
The music fuels my excitement. I’ve been looking forward to this trip awhile. It’s been over a year since I last saw my friend Sam Queen, and I’ve never visited him in his home state, Colorado.
When Sam and I lived together with a group of college friends, Sam was always the one who would sleep on the balcony, or go missing for days in a row, or invite groups of couchsurfers to stay in our living room. It was no surprise to any of us when he spent the first couple of years after college abroad in Asia and Australia, living on a shoestring budget. Most recently, he hitchhiked over 5000k from the east coast of Australia all the way to the west coast, capturing his journey as part of a documentary project called Interlands.
FOURTEENERS
I’m also very excited to get more mountain experience under my belt. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been obsessed with mountaineering stories, soaking up the dramatic tales of climbers like Ed Viesturs and Jon Krakauer. I can’t wait to start trudging up rock and snow, battling the effects of high elevation.
Starting up the slope of Mt. Democrat, a 14,155 foot peak, I quickly notice the effects of the altitude (the trailhead sits at 12,000 feet above sea level). As we lug ourselves up the mountainside, a dog trots up from below, passing us effortlessly before turning back to say hello.
Upon reaching the mountain’s main col, we’re blasted by strong wind. The gusts sound like a jet engine. Just when it seems we’re near the top, a figure comes into view on the summit, putting the distance into perspective. There is still a long way to go.
Finally we reach the summit, but the cold cuts our celebration short after just a couple of minutes. I wiggle my fingers and toes to keep them from going numb as we zig zag our way down the blustery ridge.
In a rare instance, the wind stops dead as we reach the col again. Constant noise gives way to complete silence. The powerful air stops trying to push us off the mountain. The calm lasts a quick moment before chaos resumes.
SPRUCE CREEK
After completing our long hike to the summits of two fourteeners, Sam and I drive to the base of the Spruce Creek Trail. After we pitch the tent and fix dinner, the moon appears, illuminating our surroundings.
We leave camp just after sunrise, following Spruce Creek up the path it cuts between two mountains, Crystal Peak and Atlantic Peak. The trail treks steadily uphill through a wonderful assortment of lakes, ponds, and waterfalls.
Gradually, we make our way towards the rim where the ridges of Crystal Peak and Atlantic Peak meet. After climbing past a final set of partially-frozen waterfalls, we arrive at the uppermost lake. The views are spectacular. Everywhere I look, mountains tower amongst the clouds.
GARDEN OF THE GODS
Returning from the mountains, we spend one short night in Denver before leaving early in the morning yet again. This time, Sam drives south to Colorado Springs. Garden of the Gods National Monument awaits us in the the dawn light. Just ten minutes after we arrive, the sun rises, illuminating the enormous, upturned slabs of red rock.
The vibrant orange glow emanating from the massive rocks is breathtaking.
There is an alien quality to the rocks here. Some defy gravity, like the 700-ton Balanced Rock in the southwest corner of the park. Others take on curious shapes, like the aptly-named Siamese Twins rocks.
We leave Garden of the Gods just as the masses of tourists start to arrive, a solid half-day of hiking already under our belts. As Sam drives me back to the airport in Denver, I try to wrap my mind around all the amazing scenery we witnessed in just one long weekend.
I’m not sure when I’ll see Colorado again, but I’m certainly not done exploring its incredible landscapes. Likewise, I have no idea when I’ll see Sam again. In a few months he’ll probably be hitchhiking through Latin America en route to Antarctica.
Maybe I’ll just have to meet up with him for coffee somewhere along the way. I do love Costa Rican coffee…and Honduran coffee…and Panamanian coffee…and Colombian coffee…
In memory of Samuel James Queen, 1990-2023.