No Cherished Outcomes

And Other Lessons Learned from Climbing Mount Belford and La Plata Peak

My girlfriend Candice and I celebrated the winter solstice by climbing Mount Elbert. If you didn’t get a chance to read our adventure up Colorado’s highest peak on the first day of winter, check it out here:

Winter Solstice on Mount Elbert

Despite being in the Christmas spirit, or others telling me I needed to be in the Christmas spirit, I felt off. Sure, my idea of the holiday and its importance has changed as I’ve grown and stopped believing in the chubby reindeer-powered sleigh-driver who shimmies down chimneys, leaves gifts, and eats cookies. I want my outlook to be merry and bright, but sometimes it’s just not. Maybe I need to watch Elf again, I don’t know.

I felt a dopamine dip after Elbert, similar to the post-race blues I experience after an Ironman. I’ve come to expect such sadness after a race I’ve trained and sacrificed for, and I now have systems in place to keep those feelings at bay; however, I wasn’t prepared to be emotionally empty after my first winter 14er, especially a mountain I’d climbed before. All I wanted to do was get back in the mountains.

Mount Belford - 12/25/24

After Elbert, we wanted more. The forecast wasn’t as good for Christmas Day as it was the previous week; however, we adjusted our expectations and decided to go for it, for something. Of the nearby peaks with the least-shitty weather and lowest avalanche risk, Mount Belford near Buena Vista was our best bet. We planned to hit Mount Oxford if time and energy allowed, as the peaks are typically linked, at least in the summer.

The day was not off to a hot start. Even the drive to the trailhead in a 4x4 was sketchy. The ascent was hilariously steep, especially above tree line. The clouds crept in and snow started, but the sun poked through and gave us confidence we’d be able to summit safely. When we reached the top, the visibility was so poor it was hard to see other mountains across the valley—far from the bluebird day we shared on Elbert. We took photos and split a half-pound, half-frozen Reese’s Cup before beginning our sugar-fueled descent around 2:30pm, acknowledging Oxford was out of the question due to the time of day and sky above us. Frayed, we arrived at Casa Sanchez, an unfussy Mexican spot and the only restaurant in Leadville open on Christmas to escape our caloric deficits with tacos and fajitas. Finally, we returned to Candice’s place, played John Denver’s Rocky Mountain Christmas, exchanged presents, and nestled all snug in our bed while visions of snow-capped peaks danced in our heads.

Postholing “fun”

Navigating snow fields at 14,000 ft

Summit of Mt Belford at 14,197 ft

Enjoying a half-pound Reese’s cup on the summit

Colorado sunsets, man

Christmas dinner at Casa Sanchez

La Plata Peak - 12/29/24

After Belford, we didn’t stop; we were eager for the next challenge. We were the third car at the trailhead when we pulled in around 8:30am, surprised other people were out on a lousy weather day. It had snowed a few inches overnight, so we wore snowshoes from the start. I hadn’t used snowshoes in at least a decade, or maybe ever, but thankfully Candice had an extra pair. Since we weren’t the first on trail, we didn’t have to do a lot of route-finding. We did, however, bushwhack until 11,800’, where we reached the tree line and notorious headwall—a near-vertical, rocky face on the northwest ridge used in winter to avoid portions of the standard route prone to avalanche activity. The tracks we were following suddenly disappeared thanks to wind that filled in the footprints. It felt like we were venturing into the unknown. Even with microspikes and poles, the class 2 headwall climb was gnarly, like something out of a Jimmy Chin documentary, but I felt in control and was exhilarated by the experience. Candice, slowly but surely, made her way up the wall, ice axe in hand, and was relieved to be done with the section. I saw a side of her I didn’t know existed—one that feels fear. Seeing her scared, and overcoming it, made me love her more. It humanized a woman who, to many, is invincible and immortal. As they say, “Life begins at the edge of your comfort zone.”

On the ridge, we postholed around overhanging cornices, battled 50 mph gusts and -11°F temperatures until we reached 12,750 ft, where Candice had the conviction and wisdom to turn around. We were still 1.3 mi and 1,600 ft from the summit and would’ve been descending in darkness, something neither of us were interested in, but something I was too stubborn to admit. On our way back, we ran into the father and son, who were also turning around, that we had passed earlier on our ascent. The man who broke trail, a lone wolf, made the peak; however, we later found out he started over two hours before us.

A respite from bushwhacking

The notorious headwall near 11,800 ft

Candice attacking the headwall

Riding the ridge near 12,000 ft

Our turnaround point near 12,750 ft, 1.3 mi and 1,600 ft from the summit

Relieved to be done with the headwall and entering the trees

Capturing a cotton candy sunset and important info for future use

No Cherished Outcomes

When Candice said she wanted to turn around, I was relieved. She gave me permission to also turn in the towel. We got as far as we could given the time and conditions and still climbed 3,000 ft. The mountains are no place to be greedy. They demand our respect. They humble and teach us in ways only nature can.

Before Belford, we acknowledged the summit may not happen. Luckily it did, but it didn’t on La Plata. Candice, also a driven, type II fun-seeker who believes a lifelong struggle against gravity is meaningful, was visibly disappointed for not making the peak. She felt bad because, although she was too cold to continue, she knew I was willing to keep going. In that moment, I said, “I came to hike with you, not summit”, a variation of something my brother Eric once said to me. Sure, summiting is cool and what every mountaineer hopes for, but it’s never guaranteed. As the great Miley Cyrus, my childhood crush, once said, “It’s the climb.” And we’re in this together.

I recently listened to Liz Gilbert’s latest appearance on the Tim Ferriss Show, where she spoke about the idea of having “no cherished outcomes.” Do your best without being attached to results. That’s grace. That also makes my type A, anxious, and goal-oriented self squirm. Yet maybe it’s the only way not to be disappointed in yourself or others. Journey over destination. Something to strive for, eh?

“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose. From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow.” - Robert Pirsig

A day in the mountains, even a hard-fought one spent postholing and battling intense winds and frostbite-producing temps, is a day in the mountains nonetheless. Snow much fun. Days like these are why we spend time training. Endurance affords us the ability to be adventure ready.

When you taste how rich and thrilling life can be, making a commute to a job you hate, sitting at your desk catching up on email, or running errands can feel bland and boring. How can we have peak experiences and go back to the status quo? It’s not realistic for everyone to quit their jobs and climb mountains, I get that, but it is realistic for everyone to incorporate adventure into their daily lives, even in small ways. How can you honor the primal part of yourself that yearns for more adventure? When’s the last time you were afraid or physically in danger? Remember, the mind creates problems in the absence of problems.

I moved to Colorado in August 2022 and since then, have only tackled a few 14ers. Of the 15 I’ve summited, most were when I briefly worked remotely in Denver during the pandemic. Some were even on long-weekend trips from Pennsylvania, trying to squeeze out as much as I possibly could during my limited time here. However, the mountains are why I moved to this beautiful state. In this post-Ironman state of wander and unstructured training (aka exercising), I’m enjoying rambling in the high alpine more than anything. This is my reminder to be in them, lean into fun, and follow my curiosity.

The weather for this coming Friday, January 3, looks promising so we’ll go back to La Plata for redemption then. Okay, gotta go, need to research insulated, waterproof boots.

“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.” - Jack Kerouac