Conquering Mountains

By Greyson Gilbert

            It wasn't until the third mile of bushwhacking when we realized that this day was not going to end soon. That was long after we had summited Pikes Peak, sent it down Rumdoodle Ridge, dropped into a neighboring valley, and made our way around the hogback to reach our destination - the Bottomless Pit. It was day 3 of one of the most transforming adventures that I have ever been a part of…but first, let me give you a short history of how I arrived there.

Knights of Heroes is a one-week adventure camp in the mountains of Colorado for sons and daughters of fallen soldiers. My brother and I were 9 and 6 years old when our dad was killed in Iraq. As we sat through the memorial service in Phoenix, Arizona, all we could do was stare blankly at the casket that sat across from us. Before I could begin to process how this would alter the course of my life forever, there was a man who was already formulating a plan...his name was Steve Harrold. A pilot who flew with my dad at Luke Air Force Base, and one of my dad’s closest friends, he had two sons who were my brother and I's ages. Steve has a love for the wilderness like no one who I have ever met. He understands better than anyone the transforming power of the outdoors. 

During the summer of 2007, nearly a year after our dad was killed, Knights of Heroes had its inaugural year of camp in Peaceful Valley, Colorado. It was filled with hiking, biking, rock climbing, and just about everything you can fit into a week in the mountains with twelve boys under the age of ten. Our common bond - all of us had lost our father to the war. We each had our own mentor, who was a veteran or active duty member. Their goal was to help us mature and grow into men over the years at camp, through different forms of outdoor adventure. 

Multiple forms of charity towards Gold Star kids and families seek to give, give, give. Something I have learned, though firsthand experience, is how dangerous this concept can be. Many Gold Star kids develop a sense of entitlement...that the world owes them everything. I was the same way when I arrived at camp. I was scared, and didn't want to be pushed out of my comfort zone. I didn't want to challenge myself. Through the years of Knights of Heroes, something began shifting in my mindset - through accomplishing the hard tasks that were handed to us in the mountains of Colorado, I began to realize everything that I could accomplish. The five pillars of the Knights of Heroes program teach us to be proactive, bold, responsible, be a leader, and (our namesake) be Boundless. The camp serves to strip away any sense of entitlement, through the completion of difficult tasks in the wilderness. It's about conquering the mountains in our lives, not just the mountains in Colorado.

On the last night of camp week, a very unique ceremony takes place where first year campers get "knighted," other campers move up the ranks, and senior campers graduate the program to become future mentors.

 Since then, Knights of Heroes has added a program in which the oldest campers take to the trail for a week, and live off of what we can carry on our backs. It serves as a final test for us who have grown up at camp, as we go out and conquer mountains before graduating the program on the last night of the week. Ten years after that first year in Peaceful valley, this is where myself, six other campers, and two mentors found ourselves lugging fifty pound packs around Pikes Peak for one week. It was the final year of camp for us, and, fittingly, it was a final test of our fortitude.

The nine of us woke up the first day at base camp to our final hot breakfast of the week, a gear check, and a van ride to the trailhead at Manitou Springs. Upon arriving that afternoon, we put in five miles of uphill trekking to reach our campsite for the first night. Watching a spectacular sunset behind the peak, spirits were high as the week began. In the morning, we woke up early to the crisp mountain air, packed up our camp gear, and headed toward the peak. After a couple miles, we took a detour to practice repelling down a small cliff face. We continued on for another six miles that afternoon, and stopped to camp at A-frame - a site about ten miles into the hike, and three miles from the summit.

Our view from A-Frame.

At 11,500 feet, we sat on the edge of timberline and were offered an incredible view of the Colorado Springs skyline below. The plan was to get up early and start the final ascent, with the sunrise at our back. A 4:30 AM wake-up call came fast, and I enjoyed a cup of coffee at dawn with the distant city lights of the Springs twinkling, like the starry sky we had slept under.

At around 6:00 AM, we began climbing on, with just about three miles and 3,000 feet of elevation separating us from the mountaintop. I found something that I had written in a journal about the hike that morning:

“We just got above the timberline and the views are breathtaking. This stretch of hiking, above the trees is awesome.”

As we marched, we ran into a group of mule deer, nanny mountain goats, and barking marmots. We summited at around 10:00 AM, and what we ran into at the peak caught me off guard. Hundreds of people swarmed the top, and rows of parked cars littered the summit parking lot. I had almost forgotten that people could just drive up to the peak. 

Many, ironically, were surprised to hear that we had actually hiked to reach the top. They gave us funny looks as we collapsed on the ground, dumping our 50 pound packs and giving around high fives, knowing the work we had invested to reach the peak.

On the summit with part of the team - about to descend.

No doubt, it was a good feeling, but we knew that our day was far from over. After hanging out at the summit, our descent down Rumdoodle Ridge called and we had to answer.

 

Heading toward Rumdoodle Ridge.

We were just about to drop onto the ridge. Rumdoodle traverses the north face of Pikes Peak, and, scattered with huge boulders, the steep and narrow ridge is not the easiest route to descend, much less with a fifty pound pack. We began at noon, and the mile of intense scrambling took us until about 3:30 that afternoon. Another something I wrote in my journal:

“From the peak, we came down a treacherous ridge-line….the ridge we had to practically crawl down was pretty wild. There were times that we had to toss our packs down a rock face and then down climb to the bottom of it. Although dangerous, it was a refreshing change from the constant uphill we had all morning.”

There was no time for conversation, as all of our focus had to be on not slipping and falling off of the 1,500 foot cliff to our right.

After successfully making it off of the summit, we dropped into the valley adjacent the one we planned on camping in, dubbed “The Bottomless Pit.” From there, the day seemed to drag on forever. Because dropping directly into the valley holding the Bottomless Pit was too dangerous, we had to hike down the other side and navigate around the hogback we were currently on, charting a new course through the forest. We determined the path we had to take and began the bushwhacking that afternoon. We didn’t end up reaching our campsite until around 9 that night. We thought we might never reach it, but after nearly 14 hours of hiking, we stumbled into the Bottomless Pit. After setting up camp, we ate a quick dinner and got to bed, exhausted, but proud of the type of ground that we had covered.

The fourth day was ours. No hiking was planned. We were to stay another night in the pit, and spend the day exploring the area that surrounded our camp. The north face of Pikes Peak and Rumdoodle ridge towered above us, with the peak beyond. To think that we were up there yesterday was mind-blowing. At one point a few of the guys and I climbed on top of a boulder and just laid there, staring at the awe-inspiring mountain. It was massive, and powerful.

The Bottomless Pit.

We did some climbing and repelling on the surrounding boulders and rock faces, and explored a waterfall up valley. It was our final night on the mountain together, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than around a campfire eating mountain home meals, reminiscing about our favorite moments from the week, and sharing insights that we had learned. The seven of us young men, connected by the shared trial of losing our dads, had grown tighter than ever this week. We were brothers, and had a bond that could not be broken by the hundreds of miles separating us back home.

Dinner on the final night.

 In the morning, we discovered clouds had moved in and covered the mountain below the valley that we were in. It looked like a vast white ocean below us. We ate what remained of our oatmeal and hoofed it down the mountain, back to Manitou springs and civilization, bringing an end to our time on Pikes Peak. The lessons I learned in that week are invaluable to me: be a leader, encourage the team, and never quit. What was even more valuable was the bond that our team had forged while on that mountain. This trip was one that I will never forget.

“You don't climb mountains without a team, you don't climb mountains without being fit, you don't climb mountains without being prepared, and you don't climb mountains without balancing the risks and rewards. And you never climb a mountain on accident - it has to be intentional.” 

–Mark Udall