(That, a quote from Zootie, asking about the weekend. I heartily concur…)
I languished most of the day yesterday, but I got to the bottom of North Table Mountain at about ten after five, with a 5:58 sunset coming. I looked up the western fire access road at the 300 feet of elevation to the top of the mesa.
“No problem” I tell myself, and set to stomping up the mountain. About 50 feet up, the road went from bone dry to about two inches deep in slushy snow. As the sun was rapidly falling, this was quickly changing over from just slush to slush with a thin crust. It took me way too long to get to the top, and when I got there, the air was so clear as to be completely drama free.
And after the sun went down, I mostly was concerned about getting off the damn mountain in one piece, as all of the slush I tromped through on the way up would now be well to frozen. So I didn’t get too much more coming down the fire road.
After I got to the bottom, I drove northward towards Bloomfield, to hang with Zoot. I was fried, and I fear not very good company.
Today, I struggled to get up (because of Daylight Savings Time and I’m not sleeping well these days), but did eventually make it to breakfast. Afterwards, Zoot and I jumped in the CRV to head south to Pikes Peak.
It took about 90 minutes for us to arrive at the edge of the park, but that was also 20 miles out from the summit. We made it to mile 13 before we encountered road closure because of ice, about 3000 feet shy of the summit.
I guess I got a few decent shots, but I really wish we’d made it to the top. Definitely something we’ll have to return to attempt.
Zoot, standing in the lee of a plowed road.