Les Misérables

High above the stage on the front row of a balcony seat, inside a plush Broadway theater in New York City, a young boy of seventeen sat mesmerized at what he saw. He could not understand many of the lyrics, nor did he catch much of the storyline. But he knew without a doubt that the voices he had heard that night were the best he had heard in his entire life. He even noted the orchestra sitting down below the stage, and of particular humor, he took note of the musician whose job it was to strum his stringed instrument—one strum—then wait, wait, wait, wait—then strum again. 

The young boy turned into a young man and flew across the ocean to serve his church and to serve his God. During his free time he would listen to soft and conducive music such as Tchaikovsky, Mozart, as well as many of the hymns from his church. But he noticed that some of his companions would listen to this same musical that he had once witnessed in New York City. He enjoyed this. He would listen also and now would sit down and be attentive to the lyrics and read from the songbook that came with the album. He learned the characters: Jean Valjean, Javert, Fantine, Cosette, Gavroche . . . he remembered that last one especially. On Broadway, Gavroche had the body of a ten-year-old, yet the voice of Pavarotti. The young man was determined that when he returned home, he would buy the music for himself. 

And that's just what happened. He obtained the music on two C.D.'s and listened to them on his own, and then once he got married, he listened to them with his wife, and then when kids were in the picture, he would listen to it when they were around. 

Not only did he enjoy the music, but the story also. The tale is of the plight of a man who was condemned to prison for nineteen years, who was released from captivity with bitterness in his heart, but who eventually eviscerated the rancor when a benevolent bishop performed a selfless act of charity. That man, Jean Valjean, lived the rest of his life in the service of others, even until his death many years later. 

The young man, now growing older and not so young anymore, thought it not enough to only listen to the music. He bought the novel and read it—all 1,463 pages of it! Within those leaves he learned in much greater depth the greatness of this Jean Valjean. He also learned of other charitable people whom he had never met. One such person was Sister Simplace, a nun, who helped protect Jean Valjean when authorities were unjustly pursuing him. He was also inspired by the Christ-like actions of this man who promised a dying woman that he would care for her child. Jean Valjean does this faithfully until the child, Cosette, marries and is able to move forward on her own. 

The growing man that we have been discussing was anxious to show the musical to his wife. The production was coming to a nearby town and to be performed in an outdoor theater among red rocks and amid the cool night air. They not only saw it once, but twice, and each time were mesmerized by the beautiful voices and inspiring storyline. 

Years passed and the kids grew, and one of them, a girl named Brittany, became highly interested in plays, musicals, acting and anything of that sort. Her dad let her listen to his C.D. of Les Misérables and described to her the plot and the kindness of many people in the story. He did this with anticipation because he knew that for the first time ever, the production was coming to their home town. So yes, he bought two tickets: one for him and the other for his thirteen-year-old daughter. 

The evening came, and wouldn't you know it, they sat on the front row of the balcony. When the lights dimmed the daughter exclaimed, “Dad, there's an orchestra down there!” Then the curtains were drawn and for the rest of the night a father and his daughter were taken back to a time in France when there were good people and bad people, and those who struggled, and those who fell in love. They wept together when Fantine died with Jean Valjean at her bedside. They later cried again, this time for joy, when Jean Valjean died and Fantine was there on the other side of the veil, waiting to take his hand. The father hugged his daughter and was happy that he was able to share this pleasure with one of his own. 

“How did you like it?” the father asked his daughter after the musical was over. 

“It was even better than I thought it would be,” the daughter replied. 

And on this note, the two of them walked side by side on the sidewalk, the father wrapping Brittany up with his right arm, and pulling her tight against his side. 

Less than two months later, shortly after her fourteenth birthday, Brittany started to get sick. She had so little energy that she could barely get out of bed. When she went to the doctor, she was so weak that her mother had to carry her in her arms. This was a terrifying time. The mother and father watched helplessly as their daughter lay unconscious in a hospital bed. 

On that cold December night Brittany and her mother were flown in an airplane to a larger city with a better hospital. Her father drove up with all of Brittany's siblings—one brother and three sisters. They were young and found it difficult to comprehend what was happening. 

At the hospital the doctors and nurses did all they could to keep Brittany alive, but in the end, there was nothing more they could do. The following morning, the mother, father, brother and sisters knelt at Brittany's bedside and touched her one last time. They sobbed and cried and couldn't believe this was happening. The father remembers putting his ear on Brittany's chest and feeling her heart pump one last time. And then it was gone. 

With weighted sorrow, Brittany's family planned a burial the following week. The hearse drove from the church to the cemetery where her casket was carried to the plot where her body would be interred. They sang a hymn and her father said a prayer over the grave. When it was over, everyone left and they were expected to live their lives as normal. 

Just two weeks after putting her body in the ground, a new movie came to their town that told the story that we have been following. For months the mother and father had waited for this movie, but now they were saddened because they had planned to watch it with their daughter. 

When the big night came they sat side by side in a cold theater and watched the characters come alive on the big screen. By now, the father knew the story by heart. Jean Valjean and Javert and all the rest bellowed in theatrical song, their voices reminding him much of voices he heard when he was a boy and watched it on Broadway in New York City. 

The middle-aged couple watched painfully as Fantine lay in her bed about to die. Their weeping turned to sobbing. The imagery was too raw. Every emotion felt as if Brittany was dying again.  It felt like a knife to the chest, slowly twisting inside the wound.

They continued to watch the story unfold, as Cosette grew into a beautiful young woman and fell in love with Marius. They felt sad when they watched this because they knew all too well that Brittany would never get married.

And then came the final scene of the movie where Jean Valjean sat dying, and Cosette and Marius found him and said their last goodbyes. And then, as he gave up the ghost, Fantine took his hand from the other side of the veil and led him to a brighter world where there was music and celebration and everyone was very much alive.

And as the father watched this final scene, a thought entered his mind.

He envisioned Brittany dying on her bed, but then he also envisioned family and friends on the other side of the veil being summoned to take her hand. He envisioned Grandma Lacy, Grandma and Grandpa Shumway, and Oma and Grandpa Francom. In his mind's eye he could also see Papa and Uncle Jim.

And then the father envisioned one last scene.

It was a day in the future, a day when he would turn old and die like Jean Valjean. Brittany would be there to take his hand! And when her mother should pass to the other side, Brittany would be there also. The two would embrace and stay in each others arms, mother and daughter, a long-awaited reunion. They would all be together again! ♥ 

 

Drawing by Jenelle Lacy.

 

Brutal, but Beautiful: Climbing Mount Sneffels (Peak #8)

Lower Blue Lake is one of the most picturesque places I have ever been. Sitting at 11,000 feet, it is surrounded by stunning snow-capped mountains, colorful alpine plants, and even a tall cascade that tumbles from the upper shelf of the mountain into the far side of the lake. The lake mesmerizes the eye with its turquoise water. We couldn't help but to look at the lake in disbelief, as if it didn't really exist. Undoubtedly, it was a surreal world we had just entered. 

Lower Blue Lake.

Another angle of Lower Blue Lake.

Waterfall cascading toward the lake.

Tomorrow we would attempt to summit Mount Sneffels, a Colorado fourteener that has eluded us in the past. Two years ago we had this trip all planned out, then, within a week of our departure, Dave unexpectedly got called to a high ecclesiastical position that compelled him to stay home. Suddenly, all our plans were squashed. 

Now we were at it again, this time with two of Dave's sons and wife, Laurie. We set up camp on the northwest shore, with a beautiful view of Lower Blue Lake. That night the wind roared voraciously. One of our tents had the pegs yanked from the ground. None of us slept well. 

Lower Blue Lake is one of the most beautiful lakes I've ever seen.

At 11,000 feet, the lake is not only beautiful, but also cold.

One of many waterfalls along the trail.

After a restless night, the first streak of dawn peered over the eastern ridge. The wind hadn't relented as we each ate a bite for breakfast. It was cold enough that I wore my coat and gloves, with a beanie over my ears. Laurie stayed behind while the four men began their ascent along the trail. 

Our plan was to ascend the Southwest Ridge, a more technical route that included some class-3 climbing and a section near the top with significant exposure. I will admit that with the strong wind, I was now becoming hesitant to hike the ridge. I've been on mountain summits in the past that have had gusts strong enough to blow a grown man over the edge. 

Majestic view of Upper Blue Lake and Middle Blue Lake.

The uphill pitch was relentless and soon we were well above Lower Blue Lake. The next mile of trail continued to climb and took us past Middle Blue Lake and Upper Blue Lake. By now we were above the treeline, which created a beautiful setting, but also allowed the wind to speed through unobstructed. 

Beyond Upper Blue Lake the trail follows a series of sixteen switchbacks, gaining 1,200 feet to Blue Lake Pass. This section is long and tedious, involving sections with very loose small rock. Here I was worried about losing my footing, as it would have been an ugly downward slide. 

Hiking along the switchbacks.

We made it to Blue Lake Pass, a major crossroads on our hike this day. It is here where the hiker catches his first glimpse of Yankee Boy Basin, which is where the majority of the hikers who ascend Mount Sneffels begin their journey. With a good four-wheel drive you can access a road that will bring you within a couple miles of the peak. 

But it was also here where I knew we would have to make a decision: Do we hike up the Southwest Ridge to the summit, or do we take the standard route, which involves dropping a few hundred feet before climbing a very difficult talus-filled slope? The wind was the major factor as I turned the situation over in my mind. I didn't want to climb all the way up, within 200 feet of the summit, and find that the wind was blowing at hurricane force on the steep exposed section. Maybe I'm just a chicken, but I made the executive decision to take the standard route. 

At Blue Lakes Pass, looking at the Southwest Ridge.

Long view of the Southwest Ridge.

After our decent on the east side of Blue Lake Pass, we came to a wooden sign that pointed north. We had only .8 miles to Mount Sneffels. Making it difficult, however, was the fact that we would be climbing 1,500 feet with little or no trail, over slopes of talus and scree. Anxious to reach our destination, we let the journey begin. 

It didn't take long before the steep ascent began to wear on our endurance. Every stride was a conscious effort to step on a stable rock. That didn't always happen. Often the scree would wobble or come sliding down, adding to the difficulty. Even with stable footing, our stamina was tested. I felt I had an advantage since I had already climbed several peaks over the course of the summer. 

As usual, I would set my eye on a rock ahead, then attempt to keep moving until I reached that goal. Then I would take a short breather. This tactic usually worked. I noticed as I advanced higher up the slope that Dave was struggling and lagged further behind. For someone his age he is far more active than most, but age takes its toll. 

Our hike took us up this steep slope to the gap between the two craggy peaks.

Looking down from the steep climb up.

At 13,560 feet is Lavender Col, which is a saddle between Mount Sneffels to the north and other unnamed craggy peaks to the south. Here we waited for Dave. Devin had arrived just before me and Derek was down closer to Dave. The two of us removed our packs and rested against the rocks. 

From this point forward we were to head up a chute or gully, which would be even steeper than what we had already climbed. From where we rested, the rocks appeared much bigger, but stable. I worried about Dave being able to tackle this steeper section. 

At Lavender Col, looking up at the gully.

Finally Dave and Derek arrived. Immediately Dave took off his pack, laid flat on his back and closed his eyes. He didn't look good. “I don't think I can make it,” he said. “I am really light-headed.” We gave him words of encouragement, but knew that for now it was best to let him rest. At least the skies were blue and there was no threat of storms anywhere. 

Although this was the “standard route,” it was by no means a walk in the park. Even as we rested, we encountered some, who upon seeing the next phase in this already arduous hike, decided to turn around. All of us were exhausted. It was hard to tell if Dave's issues resulted from exhaustion, dehydration or altitude sickness. 

“You go on without me,” Dave said. “I'll wait for you down here.” We knew that in his right mind he didn't want that. We traveled over seven hours solely to hike this peak! This would be his very first fourteener and we didn't want to leave him behind. 

“You rest as long as you need to,” I said. “We're not going without you.” So we waited. 

This gave me time to scan to landscape. It was rugged as hell. Craggy pinnacles arose from the far side of the col and the slope to the other side was so precipitous that I didn't care to look down. As far as the eye could see were more mountains, all appearing just as jagged as the one upon which we now sat. 

At last Dave showed a little encouragement. I gave him a couple ibuprofen for his throbbing headache. After a little more rest he stated, “I think I can do it if I take it slowly. But let me rest a little longer. You guys can get going.” 

With that, Devin and I started moving again. If I remember correctly, Derek stayed down with his dad.

Although this next phase through the gully was a bit steeper, I enjoyed it much more. The boulders were big and everything was solid. Nothing shifted under our feet. I stayed close to the right-side wall and slowly made my way up. 

Looking down the gully.

I glanced down toward the bottom and saw that Dave was on his feet and trekking upward. This made me happy. I wasn't exactly sure what to do in this situation, whether to wait or go on. I continued to the very top of the gulley and there Devin and I waited while we assessed our next move. 

At this point was the infamous “V-notch” in the rock. It was necessary to climb up through this notch (a class-3 move) to gain the summit. I had studied this move on YouTube and felt confident I could do it. But what I didn't realize was that there was a significant drop-off on the left side. If for some reason your hands slipped from the rock, you'd have a pretty nasty fall that probably wouldn't kill you, but would certainly break bones. 

This "V" notch near the hiker's head is a little more difficult than it appears.

Dave was making progress slowly, but surely. I worried that he would be so tired that it would be difficult to climb through the notch. 

When Derek made it to the top, Devin and I decided it would be best to climb through the notch so we could help the others up. The climb wasn't too bad. All the grips were secure and as long as you knew where to put your hands and feet, and didn't look down, you were fine. 

I will admit that after I climbed through the notch and learned that we still had another steep climb to go, I was a little discouraged. There was another lady that climbed through the notch just before us and when she saw the final climb, she opted to turn around. I didn't understand why she would get so close to the top just to turn around. 

Finally Dave made it. He had no problem climbing through the notch. I knew he could do it. He is an animal and in his prime was a far better athlete than I ever was. 

Now the four of us were together again. From this point it required a little route-finding and climbing up rocks. My goal was to stay away from the ledge as the exposure was significant. 

At last we made it to the top of Mount Sneffels, elevation 14,158 feet! 

The view from the top was magnificent! We could see all the Blue Lakes, as well as a lake in Yankee Boy Basin. Further down the basin we could see the buildings of Camp Bird Mine. On the other side of the ridge we could see the upper slopes of ski runs in Telluride. 

Beautiful view from the summit, looking toward the Blue Lakes.

Yankee Boy Basin.

I am always amazed at how many mountains you can see in Colorado. Standing atop Sneffels the land was covered with mountains as far as the eye could see in almost every direction. Up close we could see the thirteeners of Dallas and Gilpin Peaks. Further out I spotted the Wilson group, which includes the fourteeners of Wilson Peak, Mount Wilson and El Diente. To the west of them is the cluster of Dolores Peak, Dunn Peak and Middle Peak. Even further west, and with some isolation, rose the Lone Cone, the first peak I ever climbed in Colorado. To the east was Uncompahgre Peak, the only other peak in the area to rise higher than Sneffels. And if you looked close enough, the spectacular Wetterhorn Peak stood directly in front, the two nearly blending together. 

We spent a mere ten minutes on the summit. We had it all to ourselves with the exception of a lone hiker who climbed the Southwest Ridge. He agreed to take our picture. I was happy that it included the four of us. 

We had reached our goal, but the day was far from over. We still had a long journey back to the truck. Of this I will only give brief details. 

Peaks seen from the summit of Mount Sneffels.

Uncompahgre is the highest peak in the San Juan's.

Mount Sneffels, elevation 14,158 feet.

We left the peak at 2:04. As is usually the case, the walk down a steep mountain hill is nearly as painful. Derek struggled the most on this section because of the lack of traction on his tennis shoes. Once we made it to the pass we sent Devin ahead so he could arrive at camp and inform Laurie not to worry about us (we were much later than our anticipated time). 

The Blue Lakes were just as beautiful on the way down. Now the sun had traveled to the west side, creating new lighting and casting long shadows. The wind still picked up from time to time. 

Upper Blue Lake on the way down.

Looking back at Upper Blue Lake.

It was 5:35 when we arrived at camp. We had an hour and a half to pick up camp before the sun set. By 7 pm we were once again on the trail, now with heavy packs on our shoulders. The mileage to the truck was 3.3 miles, all downhill. Our plan was to hustle. 

Back at camp.

The sun was now making its way to the other side of the world. The alpenglow radiated on the mountainside. A long waterfall tumbled down the canyon. And as if we hadn't seen enough beauty already, a half-moon slowly rose above the snow-dusted peaks. This was truly paradise! 

It was dark by the time we made it to the truck. Our flashlights came in very handy. Devin and I made it first and waited for half an hour. Dallas Creek rushed in the distance. The silhouette of pine trees against a backdrop of stars made for a perfect night. The brisk air had a feel of fall to it. We sat and waited, and for a while, the basin belonged to us. ♠

Half moon rising over the mountain.

Mount Sneffels
 

Miles from truck (one way): 6.9 miles
 

Elevation gain: 4,808 feet
 

Final elevation: 14,158 feet

 

View of Mount Sneffels on the drive in.

Five happy souls, ready to tackle the mountain. (Picture taken before the hike.)