2020, the year where nearly all traveling came to a standstill. In March, I started planning to visit Colombia for the following September, telling myself, in my naive state, that the pandemic would be over by then. As my vacation drew nearer, and the likelihood of my travels abroad became less probable, I began exploring where else I could visit to do some hiking. And nothing else seemed to make more sense than Colorado. I was not disappointed. Not only was this the furthest west I’ve been, but it was also my first time seeing snow-capped peaks. Pictures do not do them justice. As per usual, I had my hikes planned out, but on more than one occasion, I was asked which ‘14er’ I planned on climbing. A ‘14er’ being a mountain that is more than 14,000 feet. I had absolutely no desire to attempt such a feat. Not because of the technical difficulty, but because my lungs were barely acclimated to climb a flight of stairs in the city of Breckenridge, let alone a mountain peak. But after days of being encouraged to, and meeting a good hiking buddy, I packed up my pack and took off up my first ever 14,000 foot mountain peak. I don’t like doing a hike unless it is a challenge. And this one did not disappoint. While not a technical difficulty, the lower oxygen density made every step a labor. But no hike is ever a race. I took my time, and like every other venture, I eventually reached my goal, which was the highest peak I’d ever been to.
