Today’s hike featured some of the worst trail conditions I have experienced this season, and I didn’t even leave the city of Boulder. My choice of trail was based solely on the fact that it snowed and I had little to no interest in hiking in inches of the stuff.
The funny thing about making plans to do anything in nature is that you are most definitely not in control. You can check the weather. You can read trail condition reports online. You can plan for what might be coming. But you won’t know what it’s really like until you get out there and experience it for yourself. I had assumed that the trail leading out of Chautauqua and up to Royal Arch would at minimum be wet and at worst be icy. Somehow, despite the fact that it was somewhere between these two conditions, it was worse than I had imagined possible.
Make no mistake, I made it to Royal Arch. It didn’t even occur to me that it would be fine to turn around and go home. In fact, what did occur to me was that it most definitely would not be fine to give up on a hike that I had just started. Despite my feet sinking into inches of mud, I kept hiking. Despite my head being bombarded with heavy, wet snow falling out of the trees, I kept hiking. Despite my whole body being soaked and freezing, I kept hiking.
The real excitement began when I decided it was time to leave the Arch and head back down. If I had put even the smallest effort towards thinking about what the hike would be like on the way back, I might have slowed down to take my time. However, I didn’t think about it and eventually landed on my ass. At some point, I felt my foot slide out from under me. I had slipped on a slushy part of the rocky steps, landed directly in the slush, and scraped up my wrist on the way down. Don’t worry, though. I’m definitely fine. My ego wants to believe I’m a better, smarter, and safer hiker than that, so in addition to the bruises I am sure to have tomorrow, my ego is feeling a little bruised as well.
At the end of the day, what I believe matters most here is that I made it to the top where I was all alone. Solitude on any part of any trail out of Chautauqua, especially this time of year, is rare. It felt special, magical even, to be there alone, enjoying the views of the Flatirons and the snow blanketed over them. These are the days my heart feels fulfilled.
