The La Sals without a plan

A solo overnight trip to the La Sals without any plan. I spend the night before this trip reading scientific articles about butterfly phylogenetics and alpine plants instead of looking at maps. At the trailhead, I still don’t know where to go.

Chasing the crescents for a while.

Then I just start climbing.

At the pass, the hikers coming down tell me its really cold and windy up there. “It might be too late to summit.”

Hold onto your hat!

As I climb it gets colder and the gusts more fierce. Maybe it is too late. But my legs and lungs are finally feeling strong. So I put on my jacket and gloves and keep climbing.

View from Manns Peak (12,273 feet)

On top of Manns Peak, the wind is doing its knock-you-over gale strength gusts. I start my way down the talus traverse over towards Pilot Mountain, but then get scared and turn around.  Too late for me for this exposed traverse. Maybe instead of being late, I'm just early. Maybe I will come back tomorrow, or later on.

It looks like a simple enough traverse from this perspective. At home with no wind.

I want to climb all these peaks. But frankly, up here, I often find myself turning around instead of going forward. I try not to let it make me feel like I'm not brave enough. I try to pretend turning around means that I am pushing myself past my comfort zone. If I was able to do everything easily, wouldn't that mean I wasn't challenging myself?

Or maybe it doesn't mean anything. Maybe this just is what it is.

This is a Graylocks four-nerve daisy (Tetraneuris grandiflora).  I have the perfect timing to see them.

I text Jan from the summit and tell her my new plan. She is off-trail healing from a fractured wrist. LTHAD (Live to hike another day)! she says encouragingly. Jan is the best.

I head over to a favorite spot to watch sunset. The clouds are a bit thick so the colors are more muted. But it works.

I can even see the Colorado River on the other side of Castle Valley where I rafted with my new coworkers and old friends last weekend.

Hammock tucked out of the wind.

 The next morning there is time for a side trip. Though I suppose all of this is a side trip, really.

The elk are so hard to see up here. I walk quietly in the early hours. And get just a glimpse.

Up in the talus, I sit and watch clouds and listen to the elk making quiet calls. Maybe its still too early to hear them bugling.

Not too late to visit a little patch of these arnica.

I end up heading back a little earlier than I'd like. But I have a feeling I'll be back soon.

I like this rock.