We were cold and sleepy and I was missing my cozy sleeping bag. I had rolled out of my hammock at 2AM to help prepare our campers for an early morning assault on Mt Sherman. Three counselors would be guiding twelve young men up 2100 feet, across snow fields, maintaining hydration and spirits while staying the course. Mt Sherman is not a technical climb; it isn’t considered a difficult 14er by most standards. But all 14ers by definition include a hike to elevations above 14,000 feet and that alone makes them a challenge. Guiding a group of pre-teens to the summit would be fun and challenging.
What made this day particularly memorable was what happened to a camper we left behind; a camper we walked away from in the pre-dawn darkness at 3:45AM on a cold mountain trail!
Our trip was designed to be one of the easier “long trips” toward the end of a month-long session at a Colorado summer camp. We wouldn’t backpack, ford any rivers, or even hang a bear bag. We drove to our camp in a Eurovan, cooked on the bed of a pickup truck and had two small wilderness bathrooms at our disposal. We were car camping in a mountain valley with a group of young summer campers. The toughest part of our camp life would be figuring out how to get everyone fed and in their tents at a reasonable hour. Life at the Mt Sherman basecamp is relatively easy duty with the exception that many of our campers struggled to keep track of their gear, set up their tents and avoid disagreements.
There were several fires this summer in central Colorado and we enjoyed the eerie red glow of a July sunset over the Mosquito Range. We prepared and ate a big meal and encouraged our guys to relax and get to bed early. It didn’t take long for our young mountaineers to fall asleep.
The summer camp I worked for tries its best to get as many kids to the top of a mountain (or two or three) during their stay with us. The young men on our trip were no exception; all of them were anxious to get started on this early morning. We ate instant oatmeal, filled our water bottles and stuffed our pockets with trail food. We also had a loaf of banana bread to help fuel the kids’ climb.
When guiding young boys, it is super important to stay connected, communicate and encourage. Some kids are quiet and some are non-stop talkers. Some are super confident and others are more cautious. It’s our job as counselors to help them succeed by modeling empathy toward each other, encouraging those who need a little more confidence, and challenging them to become better leaders. Our campers had worked all session toward a self-selected personal characteristic or guiding principle. These goals are symbolized by a bead they wear on their wrist and all of the character traits can be honed on a mountain trail.
We arrived at the trailhead around 3:00AM and double checked that everyone had water and snacks, a coat and sunglasses and we set off up the mountain. Mt Sherman has a well worn path that is basically a 4-wheel drive road for the first half of the journey. There isn’t a lot of map reading. We were taking it easy, setting a steady pace and organizing our team.
Immediately there were some kids beating a path to the summit and a few who were at the back struggling with altitude and some anxiety. A strong young guide was up front with the hard-chargers and I was bringing up the rear, encouraging and making small talk with the slower boys. We were regularly yelling “Yellow Light” to keep the headlamps ahead of us from separating too much.
As you can imagine, the ambitious kids at the front were frustrated with those of us keeping them from making a sunrise summit (the holy grail of summer camp achievements). It was my job to maintain a positive outlook even as the campers in front of us were grumbling at our slow pace. I was spending much of my time with Cooper and he was already into some negative talk about not being capable of our climb. We were only 500 meters up the trail!
Young Cooper had attempted Mt Sherman the previous two years but failed to get very far before abandoning the climb. Anxiety and an inability to maintain the pace of some faster kids had allowed him to be convinced he couldn’t do it and he had turned back on both occasions.
14ers can be scary to most people. It is often a six to fourteen hour round trip and if you hear enough warnings about weather and illness at altitude you can develop a very real fear and healthy appreciation for the dangers involved. Beginning a day-long trip in the pitch black with only the idea of a mountain peak in front of you can be intimidating. Cooper was thinking too much.
I was encouraging him but he was growing more anxious with every step and now he was becoming very upset with himself for once again failing. In fact, he was succeeding but couldn’t see it for the fear. He was talking himself out of the one goal he had for camp and there was little we could do. He was afraid of continuing and afraid of what giving up would mean for him. It was an emotional not a physical problem and he was in a very tough spot.
Our campers rallied around him and encouraged him and I was happy to see the empathy and brotherhood exhibited by our group of boys. But Cooper was emotional and insistent that he could go no further. We had a decision to make.
Our road was a series of switchbacks that crept up the mountain to an old mining operation and beyond that to a thin trail across a rocky cirque and up the summit ridge of the mountain. There was a long hike ahead of our group and we agreed to leave Cooper with one of our counselors. We told him to sit for a while, gather himself, drink some water and if he felt better, to walk to the next switchback. We hoped that if he could do that he might walk to the next and the next and…who knows where he might find himself.
The rest of us made good time for the next mile. Several of the boys became tired and suffered from minor anxiety and tiredness but all wanted to keep going. A few more hours and many switchbacks later, just after sunrise, we arrived at the summit. Everyone celebrated with as much energy as they could muster after the previous nights abbreviated sleep and difficult march. I was both happy for our group and a bit melancholy for Cooper and quietly spoke with my co-counselor about what might have happened with him. We could see much of the road and some of the trail below us but we were just too high on the mountain to make out any one group, let alone our co-counselor and young climber.
We took pictures, ate some celebratory candy bars and rested. Some kids played in the snow and some just slept on the rocks. The weather was clear and the forecast called for more of the same all day, so we hung out at the summit for 30 or 45 minutes. Each time I saw a new group approach I hoped Cooper would make an appearance. He did not.
As we gathered the boys and our gear to head back down we had to accept the fact that Cooper had not been able to summit yet again. I was concerned what he might be thinking and feeling.
But just as we pulled away from the summit approach and began to down-climb the stair-stepped western ridge, we saw Cooper taking the final few labored steps toward us! He had been able to make the tough climb and was joining us at the very last moment. I was so happy for him but to see and hear Cooper was something altogether different. He was elated and overcome with pride.
Cooper stood in awe at the summit and kept repeating that no one in his family or school had ever done anything like this before. He was raising his hands into the air with contagious excitement. He had been holding onto this goal for several years and had finally accomplished it.
There were multiple high-fives, I took several pictures of the celebration and encouraged his positive feelings and asked him about what it meant for him. He wasn’t sure. He was a happy boy and couldn’t stop smiling.
We decided to head down the trail and back to our camp with Cooper and the other boys confident and happy that our day was a success. It had been a great day and one that meant more for me because of what I witnessed from Cooper. I wanted to take advantage of his achievement and make sure Cooper and his friends took home an important lesson but for now we had a lot of walking ahead of us.
We enjoyed the remaining two days in camp, with our second group summiting the following day, and headed back to the main camp with stories to tell.
The final step for any important trip or experience is an exercise in reflection that solidifies what we did together and individually. We needed to make sure Cooper’s climb was burned into the kids’ brains and they would take away something meaningful.
Back at camp we sat in a circle to reflect on the trip. As Cooper shared his experience I asked him how he felt after we left him on the trail and how he was able to continue. He shared his disappointment and how he was able to settle himself and continue into the unknown, each step a new achievement. Cooper talked about how he began to gain confidence as he made each switchback and that once the sun’s light was shining on the trail below him he could see that he was “doing it”.
I asked everyone if they had ever felt this way about something - had they been fearful or doubted their ability. We talked about taking an algebra test or giving a book report to a class. I asked Cooper what he had learned about this experience that he might use when he was back home.
He thought for a few seconds and then said that if he ever feels like he might not be able to do something he was going to remember his trip up Mt Sherman.
Perfect!
I hope from now on Cooper will BELIEVE he can accept new challenges even when he THINKS he can’t.
Cooper and the other boys left camp this summer having learned the lesson that embracing risk can be a positive force in reshaping their lives and can lead to very real growth. They will return next summer ready for more challenges and experiences…and new growth.