An Unexpected Journey--A Non-Hobbit's Tale

As most of you know, it seems that I cannot really do anything in a normal way. This is through no fault of my own. I really do set out to do things normally. I do. I try. But the Universe usually has other ideas for me.

I am in Colorado for a month doing work for Space Command. When we lived here, we never hiked the Manitou Incline, a notorious trail with an average grade of 45% and as steep as 68% in places. The Incline gains over 2,000 feet of elevation in less than one mile. Not sure why, we just never got around to it. So when I found out about my extended visit to the Colorado, I made the Incline a scheduled event. When I arrived, though, I found out the Incline was going to close for several months, which required me to attempt the hike a week earlier than I wanted to (I wanted to adjust to the altitude). But that’s fine, I can handle a little less oxygen in my brain. No worries!

So at the end of the work day last Friday, I was chomping at the bit to get out of the office and get hiking. I did not want to try and fight a weekend crowd and I wanted to get up-and down-before dark. Despite some issues finding a roadside parking spot for the gigantic truck, I made it to the base of the Incline around 6pm. As I stood there, taking stock of myself (camelback-check, good shoes-check, water-check, flashlight-check, jacket-check), the Emergency Alert system rang on my phone (and the phone of several others in the area) to issue a flash flood warning. Well, I wasn’t near a river and there were no clouds, so I ignored the warning and started up the Incline (I know, “Lonnie” already gave me the lecture, so you can all save it).

The first part was the hardest on my lungs, but I kept going. About halfway up, it started drizzling and I just mentally prepared myself that I was going to get wet on this ride. What’s a difficult, straight-up-in-the-air-hike without rain? A few minutes later, the lightning and thunder started, and the Heavens opened up! Yup, I got wet. Seriously Universe?! I can't have just ONE normal experience?! Knowing that many people die of lightning strikes every year in Colorado, I was counting the flashes for distance to determine whether a continued ascent was wise. I stopped in a little cut out for a few minutes, taking stock, and trying to keep my phone dry. A girl and her mom were also waiting and said they checked the weather and expected the storm to blow over.

I weighed my options:
1. Keep going, risk getting struck by lightning and earning a Darwin Award
2. Keep going, hope the storm subsides, succeed in mission, have awesome story
3. Turn tail and go back to car, hate self for failing, especially if rain stops
4. Panic and try to fly

I went for option 2. I continued going and the lightning moved away. People on the descent would say it was bad at the top and one guy actually stopped me and said, “Are you going to the top?” (No moron, I’m going to stay here), and I reply, “Yes”. He said, “What’s your name?”, “Kelly”, he says, “OK, Kelly, I’m Jason, I will remember you.” And he leaves. I stand there a minute thinking it’s good someone knows my name and at the same time I was like—does he expect to see my dead body on the news in the morning, WTF?! So I keep going. The storm intensifies again and I get off the Incline and stoop under a boulder for a while as the lightning passes close by. Again, I take stock of my sanity—yup, it’s gone. The lightning has moved away, might as well push on.

I am wet, I am muddy, but I’m warm and feeling good as I continue to hike/Spiderman climb up the stairs. As I get to the last bug-out trail before the top (about ¾ up), I see a shirtless man and a young kid approach the stairs. They ask if I have seen a man and girl and give me a description. I reply that I haven’t, but that I’m headed to the top and will deliver a message if I see them. The message, “your son Nick is lost and looking for you.” Well, I continue up, and the kid (Nick) starts to follow me. Shirtless guy (Andrew) yells up to the kid “Hey, what are you doing, you’re gonna wear yourself out”. The kid ignores him and catches up with me. Andrew shrugs his hands and follows us. I start talking with the kid and find out he got separated from his family (we still don’t know how), who are here on vacation from Minnesota. I also learn he has hiked the Incline before, is 13 years old, and loves to write graphic novels. Andrew (shirtless guy) found Nick on the trail and was trying to help him. We are now the Fellowship of the Kid.

We get to the top, and I war-whoop my success. Mordor has nothing on the Incline!! The rain has stopped, but the top is covered in a surreal layer of cloud and mist. I take a deep breath and revel in the moment and the calm. Andrew starts doing jumping jacks to keep warm. You cannot see the Incline going down. It is 7pm. My revelry is jarred abruptly to a halt by Nick, the kid, who is sitting down on a rock. His family is not at the top. Nick looks at us (shirtless Andrew and me with no backpack) and says, “I’m really cold. Do one of you have an extra jacket? Can they send a helicopter to come get us, I don’t think I can make it down.” It is getting chilly and we are all wet, Nick has on shorts and thin button-down shirt that is see-through and soaked.

At this point, Andrew and I look at each other and know trouble might come. Andrew says, “I’ll go down whichever path you don’t and see if I see the family. Which way were you going to go?” I had been considering going right back down the Incline because it was getting dark and it was the quickest way. But I knew the kid was not going to make it down that way and he seemed on the edge of going into shock, both from cold and panic. I gave him my dry bandanna for his head and gave him some water. I told Andrew, “I’m a nurse, so I’ll take Nick down the trail, you take the Incline and hopefully see his family.” OK, we have a plan. Break. Did I mention the trail down was 4 miles of switchbacks?

 Nick and I start down the trail and meet up with another hiker, Hatheed. I was determined to stay with him just in case Nick decided to lose it on the trail. Which he did about 3 times! The first was a freak out because he was tired (and wet, and cold), the second time he stopped dead in his tracks, had a million-mile stare and said “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” My ass you’re not going to make it!!! I gave him water and did a quick assessment-not dizzy, not blue or green, no bleeding. All major systems check, so he’s just panicking. I encourage him on and slow down a bit. Hatheed stays with us and we all chat and try to keep the kid’s spirits up.

About ¾ of the way down the trail, we break through the cloud barrier and can see the lights of Manitou Springs. This helps Nick, and he starts keeping a quicker pace, because darkness is going to fall before we get to the bottom. The last freak out from Nick came close to the bottom, when he yelled out, “I can’t feel my fingers!” Thankfully, Hatheed offered calmly, “I can’t either, we are all cold, just keep moving them” and I said, “It’s not cold enough to get frostbit, so we’re OK, just wave your arms like a bird.” Nick flaps away. What I did not tell him was that he was most likely hypothermic, and getting him off the mountain was urgent. What I was also thinking was that we were NOT going to spend the night on that mountain either, because I did not want to have to choose which warm body to spoon with (teenager or strange man, hard choice!)

Darkness falls, and Hatheed shines his light for Nick to see. I am leading and can see fine, and give out obstacle warnings as we descend. We finally get to the parking lot, and Hatheed offers to drive us to the restaurant near the Cog Railroad, where other parking is. I gratefully accept for both of us, and we get in the car to warm up. As we get ready to leave, a jeep pulls up with Andrew inside who says, “I found his family!” Hooray!!! We drive down to the restaurant, and I support Nick, who is pretty shaky at this point, into the lobby. His sister and father are there. She grabs him in her arms and Nick just bursts into tears. Then she hugs me and thanks me, the father shakes my hand and thanks me. We get Nick in front of a heater that the restaurant staff already had out for the sister. Apparently she and the dad had a rough time as well getting off the mountain. We get Nick out of his wet shirt, and wrap him up. Dad goes to get hot chocolate. Andrew comes in, shirt on now, and another round of handshakes and “thank you” happens. I tell Nick good-bye and that I hope to see our adventure in one of his graphic novels someday. He smiles, a kid reunited and with a good story to share at school.

Andrew and I decide we need to “unpack” this event, and share our separate stories over dinner and Irish coffee. Driving with my freezing fingers was an adventure in and of itself. I found out that Andrew, newly arrived in Colorado and stationed at Schriever AFB, had finished the Incline and was taking the trail down, when he heard a scream. He didn’t know what/who screamed, but said, “All I thought was that whatever was wrong, it was going to get ‘Real’, real quick.” He found the kid, just out on the trail looking terrified. He said that he suggested they hike toward the Incline to see if his family was there, and that was when they saw me coming up. Andrew said, “I was actually shocked to see you, because I didn’t think anyone would be left on the mountain!” Well, that’s me…Miss Unexpected. He also said that after we separated and started down, he passed people still coming up the Incline. We both paused and thought about those people, now in the dark, maybe still out there. I relayed our experience on the trail down and how I’m just really glad that we all were able to get back safely. After dinner, I drove my exhausted body back to the hotel and got in the burning hot shower with all my clothes and shoes on. The Fellowship of the Kid disbanded, all safely back to The Shire. To sleep, perchance to dream.