Remember this post, when I said I was going to try to make this summer better than the last two? The last two that included climbing to the roof of Africa and rafting the Grand Canyon? I think, with Joanie as my partner in crime, we’ve succeeded in creating the best summer ever.
We rode our bikes a ton, and during 100 Miles of Nowhere, we rode well over 100 miles and raised more than 700 dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Association. We made 6 trips back to Colorado to spend time with friends and family during weddings, reunions and adventures. Our annual Utah trip to Crumbly Rock was a blast. And then, something special happened at the beginning of August.
Judge for yourself…
Yup, that’s right! I’m making an honest woman out of Joan.
We’re gettin’ hitched!
“When two people meet and fall in love, there is a certain rush of magic.
The bottom line is that people are never perfect, but love can be. Loving makes love.
If love is the outlaw, the most any of us can do is sign on as its accomplice.
Love belongs to those willing to go to extremes for it.
True, most lovers don’t work hard enough at it or with enough imagination or generosity.
Who knows how to make love stay? What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It’s hard work, especially when it seems superfluous or redundant, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay.
Now that I’m in love, I haven’t a clue. Now that I’m in love, I’m completely stupid on the subject.
Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules.”
-Excerpts from Tom Robbins’ Still Life with Woodpecker
A quick note from G Danger:
Here’s your friendly neighborhood blogger reminding you that next week (June 8 to be exact), I’ll be riding 100(ish?) miles to celebrate my 10 year cancer free anniversary! And I want you to join me!
The details can be found in this post: http://wp.me/p2wWFV-dt
With 100 Miles of Nowhere coming up, a few people have been asking if I’m ready for a 100 mile effort. I’ve only ridden +100 in one day on a mountain bike twice before: freshman year spring break on the White Rim and the 2008 Leadville Trail 100. I trained a lot for the latter, and went off the couch for the former. What kind of shape will I be in for next week’s event? Umm…the shape I’m in now, I guess.
I’ve been riding a lot, training hard and am ready to celebrate. Really, I have been training. Some. I mean, more than none. Joan has been too. Some, really. We even have “evidence”!
For example, here you can see my bike, artfully posed to demonstrate thoughtful trail consideration:
And here you can see my sweetie getting her shred on, with a tasteful visual metaphor likening her to a desert flower:
Here’s definitive “yes-I’ve-been-riding” evidence in the form of a “selfie” with my sweetie looking over my shoulder. Of course we’ve been riding!
And finally, a contemplative “pre-action” shot showing the beauty of Moab, which was where we were riding. We were!
Yes, we’ve been training. 100 miles sounds reeeaaallly long right now, but we’ll put in a good effort. My uncle Mark, bummed he couldn’t make it to Phil’s world, has been harassing some of his friends to get a remote 100 Miles of Golden/Tabletop/White Ranch/etc going in his neck of the woods. He said it best in his cajoling email: “Yes, 100 miles on a mtn bike is a bit rough, 10,000+ vertical feet hurts, but so does chemo when you’re 8 years old”
He got that right. On both counts.
RSVP for the event here: http://gg100miles.rsvpify.com/?preview=1
Looking forward to riding with you!
The summer of 2014 has officially begun for me. I just got home from my last class of the spring semester, I’m not taking any summer classes, and we’ve started packing for our first road trippin’ adventure.
This milestone gave me the opportunity to reflect on my last couple of summers. It was a nice trip down memory lane. I’ve had some pretty incredible summers. Monumental. They’ve included travel to exotic locals, outdoor pursuits, laughter, joy, pain, tragedy, love, family, friends and so much more. I’m so excited for this summer, and we’ve got some crazy cool plans for the coming months.
Taking a look back, 2012 gave me the opportunity to climb the highest peak in the continent of Africa, Mt. Kilimanjaro, in an effort to raise money for the Cancer Climber organization (founded by my buddy Sean Swarner.) I met the most amazing people and was humbled by the beauty and challenge of Africa.
At the summit: 19,304′ above sea level.
Approaching high camp, a.k.a. garbage camp.
Truly a life changing experience. That summer was liberating, challenging and mind-blowing. I also went skydiving, gallivanting with old friends and explored several 14ers in my backyard.
The summer of ’13 was similarly impressive. I rafted the Grand Canyon. Yes, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. I spent 16 beautiful days with 16 beautiful people in one of the most amazing places on earth. We hit the tongue and rode it straight (mostly! Oops, Lava!) for over two weeks of laughter. Thanks to LBK (Josh Kruger) for giving me the opportunity to take the trip. It was another one for the books.
Head first into the spray! Face shots for dayz.
Exploring the countless side canyons was a true highlight.
We live here right now?!? COOL!!!
So what does this summer hold for Joan and I? Sooooo many things!! Five trips back to Colorado, including a bachelor party (sorry Joan, I’ll be going solo for that!), the Dolores River Festival and 100 Miles of Nowhere, and a Rockies Reunion. We get to enjoy our family in Colorado a couple of times and play with our nephews, siblings, parents, cuzes, etc. We’re performing several times and teaching a three-week circus camp (Funtown Circus!) and exploring our new home in Flagstaff. We’re leaving for a week long camping trip in the vast deserts of Utah tomorrow. Life is good and summer is just beginning. Here we go!
This June, I’ll be observing my 10 year cancer-free anniversary. That’s a big deal. It’s crazy to think how much I’ve been through in that time, much less to think about what I was going through during and in between treatments. I endured six years of chemotherapy and in June, I’ll be 10 years out of the woods.
The amiable Fat Cyclist has a pretty cool tradition that he started in an effort to raise funds towards cancer research called 100 Miles of Nowhere. Every cycling destination seems to have a gimmick for endurance racing, with centuries, 24 hour, multi-day epics and a hundred variations on those themes. Fatty, in his typically absurd nature, decided he’d do a 100 mile race…
-in his basement.
And thus, 100 Miles of Nowhere was born.
It became a tradition that his faithful followers began doing in their basements, and then around their blocks and in other ridiculous locations for a race. The key was creating a crazy specific race category for your event, one in which ONLY YOU could possibly win (eg; 27-28 Male half way through grad school and 10 years off chemo).
I want to invite you to join me to celebrate, raise some money and ride some great trails. My 100 Miles of Nowhere will take on Sunday, June 8, in (an admittedly, non-ridiculous and actually really, really incredibly fun location) Phil’s World, an ideal location for group multi-lap rides. A few things to point out about the gathering and the riding:
- Don’t be intimidate by “100 miles”! The great thing about a loop system like Phil’s World is that you can make laps as long and as short as you like. Teams are encouraged for 100 Miles of Nowhere, so if you don’t think you have 100 miles in your legs, share the distance with a partner or two. The idea is that every gets to ride as much as they like and have a good time doing it.
- We want a festive atmosphere! Please come with fun things for the “pit zone”, aka the parking lot, the destination that all laps will pass through before heading out for me. This means bbq’ing, tasty treats, beer, music, (we might even bring our aerial dance rig!) etc.
- Phil’s world requests a $3 donation at the trail head for all non-annual members of Kokopeli bike club. Let’s throw them some additional cash for maintaining such awesome trails. You’ll understand why when you ride there…
- Unfortunately, there’s no camping allowed at the Phil’s World trail head. According to the BLM website, there’s camping “just back from the access point for Phil’s World” which is where we’ll probably end up.
- While this blog post, RSVP process and donation system are all very sophisticated, this is going to be a relatively bare bones event. The spirit is to get together, ride and have a good time. We’re not catering this thing. Bring food, gear, costumes, everything you’ll need for 100 miles in a somewhat remote location!
- The Dolores River Festival is happening Saturday, June 7 and if you’re coming for 100MoN, you might as well come early and watch Joan and I perform at DRF!
We haven’t established a fundraising goal and I don’t plan to get an official donation site up and running. I do ask, however, that if you decide to participate (and please do!), please make a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Heck, if you’re reading this and can’t participate, please donate anyway! I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia at ages 8 and 13 and the research successes seen by this organization are partially responsible for me being here today.
More instructions will follow as RSVPs start to come in.
We hope to ride with you in June!
This Friday at midnight, hundreds of brave souls will voluntarily venture into a cold, hostile, barren environment. Many of them have been looking forward to the adventure all year long. Their collective goal? Travel, by ski, 40 circuitous, snowy, back-country miles and climb over 7,800 vertical feet to arrive at the Aspen base area smiling.
The Elk Mountain Grand Traverse (aka EMGT, aka GT, aka “the Traverse”) is an annual ski mountaineering race from Crested Butte to Aspen, CO. In the racing world’s seemingly endless search for “furthest”, “fastest” and “highest” superlatives, the GT is America’s oldest ski mountaineering race. It’s one that I’ve competed in four times and finished only twice.
The race can be brutal. It requires navigation of serious avalanche terrain in the dark. The race rules stipulate mandatory two-person teams rather than individual racers, as the dangerous nature of the event is somewhat decreased by traveling with a partner. Frostbite, gear failures and whiteouts have caused countless evacuations over the years, and occasionally the race changes format to an out-and-back loop due to treacherous, impassible conditions.
I’ve never had a really good race run in the Traverse. Twice my team had to turn around because of gear or body failures. The two times I’ve finished, my partner pulled me across the line (I was dragging ass) and I pulled my partner to Barnard, at which point he had to be evacuated on a snowmobile (he was dragging ass). In sum, none of these conditions were ideal and none left me with a satisfied, accomplished, “I (and my partner) really showed that race who’s boss” feeling.
That’s why, all the way in Flagstaff, Arizona, I’ll be watching at midnight on Friday. Racers are required to carry tracking devices and fans can watch their progress live online. I’ll be watching Smithy and Wick, JB, Billy, Ryter, the Western State Colorado University endurance ski team and all my other friends from back home, as they sprint up warming house hill and venture into the cold, dark night. I’ll feel their elation as they crest Star Pass and steel themselves in preparation for the decent into the basin below. I’ll feel the anxiety as the leaders take their mandatory 10-minute respite at Barnard Hut, nervously watching the trail behind them, strategically gauging their lead. And I’ll celebrate, with my hot coffee and fuzzy slippers, comfortable on the couch, as each of my Gunny/CB friends glides across that finish line in Aspen.
I’m looking forward to the night that I can once again step into my skis and try to raise my finishing average over .500.
What’s your fondest memory of childhood?
I have so many great ones to choose from, it’s hard to pick just one.
There were all the family vacations to Moab, UT to ride the White Rim Trail over several days.
We went to Disneyland/world once each, and did the whole tourist thing.
And then there were lazy Sundays doing nothing much beyond watching the Denver Broncos with dad.
My dad taught me to love football. If you’d like to know about my prowess on the field, you’d have to ask Anthony Poponi or The Dave Noir (we played a few years of flag football together, and we were all pretty rusty. Actually, “rusty” implies that skill has decreased with time. Truth be told, we started rusty.) No, while I enjoyed playing football, I’ve come to realize that I’m much better at watching it.
I’ve always been a hometown fan. No matter the odds, you could find me pulling for the Broncos. And for a lot of my childhood, this taught me disappointment, then acceptance.
Until the season of 1997, when the Broncos won their first Superbowl (XXXII) in franchise history. The John Elway era ended with a repeat Superbowl win (XXXIII) in the season of 1998. And it was good.
What followed Elway’s retirement was a sad, winless post-season drought. On the rare occasion that the Orange Crush would make it to the playoffs, they’d likely be tossed within the first round. Opportunities were missed. My dad and I would watch, despondent from the couch, hopes high but expectations low.
After a series of greasy, could be plumber, cry-baby, (somehow fitting Orton in here), no prayer quarterbacks, my team has landed the prettiest girl at the dance. P.F.M. And he’s taking us to the Superbowl this Sunday. The Broncos are a new team with P.F.M. at the helm. While currently living in Arizona, I don’t have the opportunity to watch many games with my dad. But, without fail, we always talk about the most recent game over the phone.
A package addressed to me arrived on the doorstep yesterday. I eagerly took it inside and cut it open. This is what I saw:
That’s my Broncos hat from childhood. My initials and home phone number (!) have all but faded away, written on the inside with felt tip marker. This thing is from when I was single digits years old! And it came with a Dales Pale Ale stuffed inside it! And a chocolate bar!
I know the title of this post says my dad is cooler than your dad. Sorry if that hurt your feelings (or your dad’s feelings.) Your dad is probably pretty cool as well. But did your dad find your favorite childhood hat in the attic and send it to you since your team is back in the Superbowl? Did he stuff it with your favorite beer?!
My dad is super cool. We aren’t able to watch the game together this Sunday, but we’ll definitely talk about it over the phone.
“What’s it going to take to finish this thing and be happy when we’re done?” Sean asked in one of our many emails in the week before the start of the 16th annual Gore-Tex Grand Traverse. I had attempted the race three times prior and had finished once, so I became our teams de-facto expert on preparation.
I answered, “Maintaining a reasonable pace, remembering WHY we’re doing it, hitting the checkpoints before cutoffs, drinking beer when we’re done.”
Grand Traverse race preparation is a marathon. Honestly, it’s more stressful on the days leading up to the race start than doing the race itself. Gear, gear, gear. Spend all day at racer meetings and gear check. Try to nap. Eat and drink as much as you can, something that helps to prevent proper napping. Panic because you don’t have the right flavor 5-Hour Energy. Realize flavor doesn’t matter at 6am. Check, double-check, triple-check and quadruple-check your skin set up. Pack. Repack. Re-repack. Nap. Ugh.
After a day that passes in segments, it was time to head up to the start line. The start of the race is unlike any other event I’ve been a part of. Mostly because it takes place at the same time as the local radio station’s huge fundraiser, Soul Train. Imagine, hundreds of ski randonee racers lining up at the Crested Butte base area, preparing to ski 40 miles into the night, whilst hundreds of local crazies are halfway through their night of reliving the 70’s disco era. Afro wigs and headlights, bell-bottoms and speed suits, platform shoes and ski boots intermingled while Kool and the Gang echoed against the mountains. Quite the sight.
Sean and I made our way to the back of the pack aiming for a casual start. Our goal was to ski within ourselves and not get sucked into the racer mentality, risking too strong of a start and blowing ourselves out before the real challenge began. This strategy proved costly an hour into the race, where we had to battle recurring bottle necks through breakable crust over steep gullys and open meadows. Patients was key, as getting frustrated during this section of the race would only cause tension among teammates. We went with the flow and finally arrived on Brush Creek Road where the snow had been solidified and made travel much easier.
When we arrived on East Brush Creek, we decided it was a great opportunity to make up some time. I hadn’t expected the previous section to take so long, so we settled into a brisk pace and moved swiftly up to Friends Hut. Aside from a minor slip into an open creek (brrr!) the climb went well and we found ourselves at Friends an hour before the cut off time. We took the opportunity to replenish our water, to eat some food and to bundle up in defense against the wind that could be heard howling a thousand feet above. The climb up Star Pass promised to be steep and cold.
This is when I learned how hot Sean’s engine runs. From the start, he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He threw on a hoodie/windbreaker for a little while but complained of sweating and being too hot. Remember, we started at midnight. At over 9,000 feet and rising. At temperatures below freezing. He claims to have the metabolism of a 14 year old and this is good evidence. He used wind-pants and a windbreaker to head up Star Pass and later said he could have done without them. Wow.
We got to the top of Star and prepared to descend. I talked to a course marshal who told me we looked good for finishing. It was 7:20 am and we were about a third of the way into the race.
The drop down from Star Pass was a blast. The snow was choppy powder rather than the breakable crust we encountered earlier in the race. It skied really well, much better than the section did last year. We got down to the transition zone and joined about 10 other teams who had descended before us. There was a feeling of jubilation among the racers, because there were only two timed check points left, and those were well in the distance. With them so far away, it felt like we’d all surely make it to Aspen.
At this point, however, Sean began to cough. He had been suffering from a chest cold since earlier in the week. Keep in mind, this guy has one functioning lung. I knew his cold was going to be an issue, but it hadn’t seemed to bother him earlier on in the race. Maybe it was the cold air on the descent, but Sean was hacking severely from this point on. He had difficulty drawing a full breath and was constantly on the verge of vomiting I tried my best to maintain a pace that would bring us to the next check point in time without putting too much exertion on his suffering lung. We ended up pacing a couple of teams that were moving at a similar rate, which helped. I know how difficult it was for Sean to keep moving with his condition and he did a great job fighting through it.
The route took us through Taylor Flats and up Taylor Pass where the wind was fierce. We chose to keep our skins on for the brief descent which allowed us to climb up the subsequent Gold Hill without transitioning. Taylor and Gold are pretty short, but the steepness makes them true stingers. We put them behind us as quickly as possible.
At the top of Gold Hill, we ripped our skins for the third time and made the descent to the Barnard Hut. It was about 12:30 and at that pace, we were sure to make it to Aspen before the 4pm cut off at the Sundeck.
As we entered the checkpoint, a volunteer casually asked us how we were doing. “Fine except I can’t breathe,” replied Sean. The volunteer turned out to be a doctor and asked Sean if we could examine him a bit further. The doc was pretty blown away by our team, both of us being two-time cancer survivors, and offered Sean a treatment for asthma. I sat drinking soup and eating while the doc checked Sean out, wondering if we’d be allowed to continue.
Twenty minutes passed. I prepared our gear, refilled water and ate. I went to the medical tent to find Sean seated and inhaling from a tube that was releasing some sort of white vapor. It was making him feel better momentarily, but wasn’t curing the congestion and constriction in his chest. The realization started to sink in: the chest cold was winning and it didn’t look like our team was going to continue.
The doctor said, “Sean, I think we’re going to have to take you out on a snowmobile.” To this, Sean replied, “That doesn’t mean HE has to go out on a sled, does it?” Generally, teams aren’t allowed to continue without both members. The nature of back country travel is too dangerous for individuals to head out alone and the race organizers have stated that only teams of two are allowed to continue. Luckily, Sean’s very charismatic. He explained our mission, to compete to raise funds for Cancer Climber. He added that this was my fourth GT and that I was very knowledgeable about the course. The section remaining was very benign as far as back country travel goes, as it follows a jeep road all the way to the sundeck.
The decision was made to let me continue on. Not giving the officials a chance to rethink their decision (not that they would have, the route had no major challenges or potential avalanche danger remaining), I thanked Sean for his super-human effort, stepped into my bindings and began the final leg of the journey.
I felt GREAT. The pace we had been setting through the night was a finishers pace, certainly not a high-placer’s pace. We were strolling, largely because of ‘ole one-lung’s handicapping cold. When I got the go-ahead from race officials, I took off like it was a 100 meter dash. And continued at that pace. Up and over each minor climb on Richmond Ridge, plowing over the whooped out snowmobile troughs that have been known to make grown men cry and carrying past the heartbreaking flats between. I got in the zone and got to the sundeck in amazing time.
At the sundeck I ran into three other teams, in various stages of celebration and exhaustion. We knew we had made it, and everyone shared that stupid, aww-shucks grin of a school boy that got away with a solid prank, or maybe just stole a kiss from that girl he likes. Joy abounded. Jokes were made during the slow, much less urgent transition from up to down, and I eventually stepped down into my bindings and pulled on my goggles for the final decent. The decent into Aspen. A place where the beer flows like wine (unless they run out! Yeah, I arrived so late that the kegs had been kicked. WHAT?!? Luckily Joan was on hand to grab a PBR for me before I turned around and stormed back to Crested Butte), where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. ASSSSSSPEN!
The descent was glorious. I reveled in the corn. I hooted and hollered as a overtook fellow racers, offering what encouragement I could in an effort to make their burning legs hurt a little bit less. I was there. I was going to make it! For me. For Sean. For Cancer Climber. For all the patients, young and old, going through treatment. Cancer Climber for the win!
My face was still plastered with that silly grin as I crossed the finish line. The journey was complete. Sean was there, arriving earlier via snowmobile, already in his signature flip-flops, to give me a big congratulatory hug. “Next time I won’t be sick,” he said. “Doesn’t matter,” I said, “We gave that thing hell for as long as you could. I’m amazed you made it as far as you did in your condition. Great effort, dude.”
Cancer Climber will be back to the Grand Traverse. We’re used to adversity, we can handle challenges. We met our goals we set from the start: Maintain a reasonable pace: check. Even if it was slower than we could have gone because of illness, we made progress and would have finished in time. Remember WHY we’re doing it: check. Especially through the dark, beautiful night, I took the time to think about loved ones who have battled cancer. Some have won, some have lost. Remembering those battles fueled my strides and with each step along the way, cancer patients were with me. Hit checkpoints before cutoffs: check. Maybe we didn’t proceed as a team past Barnard, but technically, we reached every checkpoint before the cutoff time. I guess the sundeck has a cutoff too, but come on. We did damn good. Drink beer when we’re done: check. PBR never tasted soooo good. Next year we’ll be more prepared and healthier. Look out, GT’14.
Fall is one of my favorite times of the year. As coy as I try to play sometimes, I’m not much for subtlety and fall offers a very stark and obvious change in the seasons, one that an observer can measure in the golds, reds and oranges sweeping across the hill side. The dipping mercury is a dead give-away, as is the inevitable frost that reappears each crisp autumn morning, growing more and more obvious as the weeks progress.
It’s a great time to ride a mountain bike.
Go for a hike.
Or enjoy some time with friends.
(Picture missing. Oh no, where are my friends?! I swear, they’re still on my camera, I just don’t have it with me…)
The cold winter months are fast approaching. They have no regard for how much you or I accomplished this summer, nor what we have planned. Ominous? Yes. Soon our valley will be awash in white, the days will be short and the temperature low. Not much hay left to be made, so get out there and appreciate the waning days of fall.
What have I been up to? Being busy…
…gave the 24 Hours of the Sage a run for its money in the Cruiser Category…
…jumped out of a perfectly functional airplane…
…and then off of a perfectly good bridge.
I’ve been camping a bit…
…hanging out with old friends…
…and watching a big ‘ole bike race come through our humble mountain hamlet.
(I might have even enrolled in a ballroom dance class. No photographs, please.)
Sometimes the least expected is the most excellent.
This post is going to be a bit different, because I let my dog Friday write it. Well, not actually write it (her paws aren’t dexterous enough to type) but dictate and proof-read it for me. She’s approved the format and content, I was only the typing dummy. I, er, we, hope you enjoy it.
Written by Friday
HI I AM FRIDAY I AM A DOG AND I LOVE HIKING!!!!!!!!!
WE DID HIKING ON THE WEEKEND. IT WAS FUN!!!!!! WE DID HIKING ON MISSOURI MOUNTAIN AND MT. BELFORD AND IT WAS SO PRETTY!!!!!!!
THEN WE WERE ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN. WE WERE ON TOP OF MISSOURI MOUNTAIN. I ATE BEEF JERKY AND I LOVE BEEF JERKY!!!!!!
WE WENT DOWN AND THEN WE WENT UP AGAIN. GARRISON LOVES TO GO DOWNHILL FAST. I LOVE TO GO DOWNHILL FAST TOO!!!!!!!!
TO GET TO MT. BELFORD WE WENT UP ELKHEAD PASS BUT THERE WERE NO ELK. I LOVE ELK I LOVE TO CHASE ELK!!!!!!! THEN IT HAILED AND WE ALMOST WENT BACK BUT THEN WE KEPT GOING.
THEN WE WERE ON THE TOP OF MT. BELFORD. IT WAS SO PRETTY!!!!
MAYBE WE WERE GOING TO DO MT. OXFORD TOO BUT THEN THERE WERE CLOUDS THAT MAKE THE LOUD SCARY NOISE AND WE WENT DOWN INSTEAD.
I LOVE WHEN WE GET TO THE TREES BECAUSE I CAN RUN THROUGH THE TREES AND I LOVE TO RUN THROUGH THE TREES!!!!! I AM VERY FAST!!!!
WE GOT TO THE BOTTOM AND GARRISON WANTED TO SIT BY THE RIVER. I WAS READY TO GO!!!!!
GARRISON HAD A SNACK AND I WAITED TO LEAVE. I LOVE HIKING!!!! I LOVE DAYS LIKE THAT DAY!!!!!!!
(Note from Garrison: I tried to explain to Friday that on the internet, caps lock indicates yelling, but she wanted it written that way. Even though she grossly overused exclamation marks, I think she has pretty good grammar for a dog and I like her simple phrasing. I’ll have to let her make posts more often. Good job, Friz. Regarding the mountains we climbed, Missouri Mountain and Mt. Belford are both 14ers and sit in the Belford Group of the Sawatch Range. They measure 14,067′ and 14,197′ respectively and are accessed easily off of US 24 outside of Buena Vista. Mt. Oxford, 14,153′, is often combined with these peaks and sits only 1.2 miles east of Belford. As mentioned, nasty thunderheads prevented us from the triple-header even though Friday had more than enough energy to get it done. We’ll save that summit for another day. -G)
(Note from Friday: I LOVE WRITING!!! WRITING IS FUN!!!! I LOVE HIKING MORE!!!!! THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!)