Longs Peak Travelougue

I signed on with a couple of friends to climb Longs Peak, a 14,250 foot mountain in Colorado. I agreed because I was promised free room, the use of someone else's car to get there, and all the other applicable details worked out. My biggest mistake was to trust McNattin (second from left with demonic ball of light emanating from his left cheek). This is the same guy who, earlier this summer, asked me if I wanted to join him at a Twins game with a couple of friends, and I ended up purchasing a $25 ticket in a sea of empty seats.

The guy on the left is Eric, a co-worker of McNattin. The single most distinct memory I have of Eric is a time he rejected a glass of wine from a local Twin Cities restaurant.

The guy on the right is Scoots , a St. Olaf alum, class of 1998. He is a quiet fellow who has climbed several 14ers. He is also a statistician for 3M who will periodically rant in a guttural Greek, and then not say a word for several hours afterwards.

We left from Shakopee, MN 10:30pm Friday night. The drive through Minnesota, Iowa, and Nebraska was uneventful. We made our only extended stop for a breakfast buffet Saturday morning in North Platte, Wyoming and were regarded with suspicion by those who viewed four smelly, young men, with poor hygiene and tired looks on their faces as drug users and child molesters. I reached for bacon over a five year old girl, and her Mom grabbed her and shoved her into the safety of the eating area, while I scratched my stubble and looked confused.

We arrived in Estes Park, CO around 2:30pm, Saturday afternoon. After pausing briefly to get some information about the park, we continued on to the main entrance, to find the trail head. The park ranger at the entrance informed us that Longs Peak was closed to non-technical climbers until late July. We had to restrain Scoots , who lunged for the ranger's throat, screaming something incoherent. We drove away dejected at the prospect of a 28 hour round trip of driving for naught, but decided to check out the Longs Peak ranger's station, to, as Eric said, "get the straight dope."

Fortunately, an elderly ranger with gold teeth explained to us that while officially the trail was closed to non-technical climbers, it was possible to climb. She gave us the usual warnings about starting the hike around 2am to get off the mountain prior to thunderstorms and wished us luck.

We walked around Estes Park for a little while. It was extremely touristy with junk shops lining main street. We ate dinner at the "Local's Restaurant," which had a limited menu as, according to signs posted outside the eatery, the owners were unable to find experienced cooks. The food was terrible and our Czech waitress could not find one genuine local in the restaurant.

Our motel was overpriced, dirty, and did not have shampoo. It did, however, have a nice tapestry that really tied the room together, and the stringent rules governing the use of the whirlpool insured that nobody would ever use it. While McNattin was quoted a discounted price over the phone, the clerk informed us that "we were lucky to find any rooms on a holiday weekend." After our romp through town we discovered at least a half a dozen motels with vacancies. I attempted to call AAA to complain, however, I was unable to because the motel phone did not work.

We slept from 5:00pm-1:00am, packed our stuff, McNattin made sure his hair was in place, explaining "we are going to be taking a lot of pictures today!" Then, we met up with Eric's Friend who snapped the above photo.