Mt. Bierstadt Trip Report 10/21/2014

Peak(s):	Mt. Bierstadt - 14,066 feet
Date Posted:	10/21/2014
Date Climbed:	10/18/2014
Author:	Samridesabicycle

Bierstadt, because I love bier
I was sequestered to my hometown of Pueblo, CO for a few weekends and itching to get back out there. I set my alarm for 3am and tossed restlessly until it finally sounded. I rousted my fine young 17 year old son and we were off. As we proceeded out of the Barrios I thought to myself, Gee, I could've eased up on those beers a little earlier last night. But nonetheless, in a world where the cause is often the cure we headed from the beer to the Bier. We arrived to a nearly empty lot at about 730 am. The air was calm, still, and as cold as a whore's heart with the temps dangling around the 28 degree mark. The trail head was obvious, and the pit toilet smelled like ass so there was no sense in delay and we began to walk. The first few miles are flat and pass over boardwalks and dirt dykes as they lead you to the base of the mountain over a marshland. There was a small stream with a log over it, and on this morning a thin sheet of ice covered the log and had me slipping and dunking both feet right at the start. My son learned from my idiocy and used the rocks to cross. From there the trail turned up. A layer of snow and ice made finding the trail on the shadowed mountainside hard for a while, then we (and a few others) lost it altogether and just dead reckoned toward the top of the ridge. Upon reaching the ridge I could hear The Beatles singing "Here comes the sun" in my head, as the heat warmed my cold torso and hands. We followed the ridge onward and up until at last we were at the final, very steep, summit pitch. We scrambled over rocks ranging in size from boulders to backpacks for the final � mile. The crusty snow between aforementioned rocks was either passable or provided a post hole surprise if you dared to step on it. Just when the lungs were a fire, and the vision was narrowing in my panting breath we reached the summit. We weren't alone as many other, mostly young healthy types, were there taking in the spectacular views . We sat and ate sandwiches and I counted a young blonde coed as she said "like" 36 times until finally, and thankfully, she walked out of earshot. The trip down was much less dramatic in the sun drenched afternoon, but the melting snow did make for a rather muddy walk in spots . Back in the car, I couldn't help but think an important deed was left undone up there. Then I saw the "Hooters" sign in Colorado Springs and my mental auto pilot led me straight to a tightly clothed waitress holding a beer. After all, one good Bier deserves another . Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Bierstadt, because I love bier

I was sequestered to my hometown of Pueblo, CO for a few weekends and itching to get back out there. I set my alarm for 3am and tossed restlessly until it finally sounded. I rousted my fine young 17 year old son and we were off. As we proceeded out of the Barrios I thought to myself, Gee, I could've eased up on those beers a little earlier last night. But nonetheless, in a world where the cause is often the cure we headed from the beer to the Bier. We arrived to a nearly empty lot at about 730 am. The air was calm, still, and as cold as a whore's heart with the temps dangling around the 28 degree mark. The trail head was obvious, and the pit toilet smelled like ass so there was no sense in delay and we began to walk.

The first few miles are flat and pass over boardwalks and dirt dykes as they lead you to the base of the mountain over a marshland. There was a small stream with a log over it, and on this morning a thin sheet of ice covered the log and had me slipping and dunking both feet right at the start.

My son learned from my idiocy and used the rocks to cross.

From there the trail turned up. A layer of snow and ice made finding the trail on the shadowed mountainside hard for a while, then we (and a few others)

lost it altogether and just dead reckoned toward the top of the ridge. Upon reaching the ridge I could hear The Beatles singing "Here comes the sun" in my head, as the heat warmed my cold torso and hands.

We followed the ridge onward and up until at last we were at the final, very steep, summit pitch.

We scrambled over rocks ranging in size from boulders to backpacks for the final � mile. The crusty snow between aforementioned rocks was either passable or provided a post hole surprise if you dared to step on it. Just when the lungs were a fire, and the vision was narrowing in my panting breath we reached the summit. We weren't alone as many other, mostly young healthy types, were there taking in the spectacular views

. We sat and ate sandwiches and I counted a young blonde coed as she said "like" 36 times until finally, and thankfully, she walked out of earshot.

The trip down was much less dramatic in the sun drenched afternoon,

but the melting snow did make for a rather muddy walk in spots

. Back in the car, I couldn't help but think an important deed was left undone up there. Then I saw the "Hooters" sign in Colorado Springs and my mental auto pilot led me straight to a tightly clothed waitress holding a beer. After all, one good Bier deserves another

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

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