Episode Details

Lessons from Climbing Mt. Massive

On June 26, 2025, my son Jack and I summited Mt Massive, at 14,429 feet, the 2nd tallest peak in Colorado. That one sentence sums up an impossibly difficult-to-describe one-day adventure that he and I have dreamed about for a long time.

The day began at 4:30 AM, when we made coffee, ate a quick breakfast, and drove to the base of the mountain, parking in a gravel lot near what I believe was the Arkansas River.

From there, we put on our backpacks, adjusted our hiking poles, and set off up the trail. It was 5:30 AM by this time. We traversed through pine forests, many of the trees damaged or killed by pine beetles years before. The trail moved gradually up, and for the next four miles, we kept going, crossing two creeks — one using a fallen tree, and the other stepping across on rocks like steps over the rushing water.

As we moved higher and away from the damaged forest area, we began to encounter more ground cover, wildflowers, and healthy pines. As we came out of the forest cover, we could see Mt. Massive looming ahead. To reach it, however, would require three more miles of switchback trails through areas of small brush, grass, and more flowers. 

To say it was a breathtaking view is an understatement. As we paused on the trail, we could look behind us at the pine forests below, and surrounding us were miles of mountain ridges, gray from the distance but covered in rivulets of snow marking the beginning of Spring in the mountains.

From a distance, I’ve wondered what those green spaces were like between the forest and barren mountain tops. As we walked along this in-between space, I was overwhelmed by the immensity of the space, the variety of shrubs and grasses, the rocky soil, and the occasional marmot with a wagging tail, running between shrubs and rocks. 

Jack, always full of knowledge, explained to me that the lichen on the rocks in this area, which is a combination of fungus and algae, decomposes over time, creating soil, from which the grasses and flowers grow. It takes hundreds of years for this process to happen, which is why it is important for hikers to stay on the trail and not damage these delicate ecosystems.

Here we encountered our first snow. Across the grassy and shrub-filled areas, small snowpacks were visible. Jack pointed out that the pink tinges in the snow are created by bacteria, so hikers should avoid eating snow.

Eventually, we followed the trail higher until we were surrounded mostly by rock, and with the increasing altitude, we were both struggling to breathe. Our steps slowed, and we had to pace ourselves by looking ahead to a clump of rocks as our destination for stopping.

At this point in the hike, we had only seen two other hikers on the ridges ahead. As we headed into this rocky place on the trail, we heard a voice behind us. A young man, dark-headed and walking without a hat or hiking poles, said hello. He was a college student, named Ming, from Colorado Springs, he explained, extending a handshake. He grew up in Boulder and loves climbing.

 When we told him this was our first 14-er, he said we had chosen a challenging one, but encouraged us that the summit would be worth it. And with that, he was off up the trail, bounding like a mountain goat. Jack and I looked at each other and laughed. Then we continued our plodding steps, one at a time, wondering if we really could reach the top. Each time I spotted Ming ahead of us, I was encouraged that it was possible. 

As we neared the base of the summit’s first peak, I was really struggling with the thought of traversing the ridges it would take to reach the very top. But as we stepped up the trail, suddenly we were at the ridge of the base. In front of us opened an expanse of mountain ranges — endless miles of snow-capped ridges. The sight was so stunning, I actually felt like electricity