We make it to the top, but not without hard work. Trail Rider Pass lies on the shoulder of a mountain made of white igneous rock called Snowmass Peak. Although the pass is above 12,000 feet, the summit of the mountain is a couple thousand feet higher at over 14,000 feet. The walls of white that rise from the pass are so reflective of the sun that they are almost blinding.
Below Trail Rider Pass and Snowmass Peak lies a giant lake, suitably named Snowmass Lake. It’s turquoise and glittery. Sunlight flashes off thousands of ripples as if a massive tropical fish were laid out on its side.
Somewhere below the pass, we stop for a snack. Before this morning, Kristin and I hadn’t seen each other for more than six months. But our conversation and friendship easily picked up where we last left it. All day we’ve chatted away, catching each other up on the comings and goings of life and then lapsing into the kind of comfortable silence that only two people who get along well can share. The ease of being with Kristin is a highlight of the day. As we stand there, under the hulking peak and above the sparkling lake, laughing and crunching on energy bars, I feel levity—about life and our friendship and this wild place. It’s a runner’s high.
Ahead of us looms one more pass, Buckskin Pass, but the trail makes us dip lower still before we climb again. We cross Snowmass Creek and start the 1,500-foot ascent. There’s no way to describe this point in our journey other than grinding. Kristin and I have been moving conservatively all day, so although it hurts a little, we are able to powerhike and jog hard. When we get to the top, we hug and high-five. We’re four for four, and the hardest work of the day is done!
Down Minnehaha Gulch we go, some 3,000 feet back toward Crater Lake, where things began this morning. There’s no way around it; the final downhill of many long trail runs is a challenge. The eccentric muscular contractions that come with simultaneously bending our legs and supporting our body weight makes our already tired quadriceps burn. Our brains are tired, so although the trail is buffed out enough in some places that we can cruise, in others we have to concentrate hard so that we don’t trip over exposed rocks and roots.
After what seems like a long time, we finish off the descent, rolling through the trail junction near Crater Lake, taking one last left back toward the trailhead. We’re back in the rock garden, our final segment of the day, and we play. We dance. We leap from rock to rock. We are completely joyful. We move efficiently, lightly, even picking up speed in this human version of smelling the barn.
At the trailhead, we peel ourselves out of our dirty, damp socks and shoes, grab our recovery drinks, and make our way to a cold creek to soak our tired legs.
“Now that was a ladies’ day out!” we hoot about our frolicking, rollicking day.
–Excerpted from Where the Road Ends: A Guide to Trail Running by Meghan M. Hicks and Bryon Powell. ©2016. Reprinted with permission from Human Kinetics. All rights reserved. No reproduction, transmission, or display is permitted without the written permission of Human Kinetics, Inc.
