Climbing a 14er

by Gary White

It was the year between my Masters Degree and beginning work for my PhD at Michigan State University. I had taken a year off to teach in the public schools in Dolores, Colorado, a tiny mountain town tucked deep inside the Dolores River canyon in the southwestern corner of the state. It was during this year that I met David Engle, the pastor of the local Methodist Church. David had been a student of Paul Tillich, the great Christian existential philosopher at Harvard. What he was doing in this small mountain town was a mystery. Perhaps the Methodist Church needed a place to hide someone of his radical persuasion, or perhaps David simply needed to be in the Rocky Mountains. In any event, David was intellectually so far above the members of that small congregation that they never once noticed that his prayers didn’t end with “in Jesus’ name” and phrases such as “Lord and Savior” never passed his lips. He was a Methodist pastor that an agnostic like me could get close to and I agreed to sing in his church choir (having turned down the opportunity to lead it).

I could sit through all of David’s sermons, which were beautiful essays on ethics and humanism. Even my Grandfather Call would have been happy with his preaching. I remember that Grandfather had once told the local minister that he would only come to church the Sunday that he preached of “man’s duty to man” instead of “man’s duty to God.” He proudly said that he had never had to make good on that promise. David became my best friend and confidant during my one year in Dolores.

Along with being an intellectual of major accomplishment, David was an avid mountain climber, having been an instructor in technical climbing in a mountaineering school earlier in his life. Early in the fall, David hatched a plan that we would climb one or two of the fourteen thousand foot peaks in the Dolores range, just north and east of town. That was a huge challenge for both of us since I had never been at all athletic and was not particularly confident of my abilities as a mountain climber.

David was the most patient teacher I have ever met. He began by taking me out on short hikes, increasing the distance and challenge by easy degrees. He was always instructing me about climbing safety, showing me how to tell if an avalanche or rock fall was imminent and how to traverse loose rock fields safely. He taught me the basics of rappelling over cliffs on a rope, and how to belay a partner in dangerous situations. He told me about the dangers of euphoria due to oxygen starvation at high altitudes and how to know when and where to take cover in case of sudden thunder storms. The result was that I actually felt ready to attempt a 14er by the spring, and when it was safe to do so, we made our plans to climb Mt. Wilson in the Dolores Peaks.

We picked a beautiful, sunny Saturday in the late spring and made our ascent. The plan was to drive high enough so that we could make the entire climb in one day and David could be back in time for his sermon on Sunday. If you haven’t actually climbed a 14er there is no way that words can convey the experience. If you have climbed, you will know what I’m going to try to describe without reading further.

In the first place, the climb is very strenuous and you have to pace yourself very carefully. The rest breaks and taking in food and water are carefully planned so that you can be at the summit before the afternoon thunder storms move in. Being on top of one of the highest mountain peaks in the Rocky Mountains in a thunder storm is deadly and many climbers have been struck by lightning. David was impeccable in pacing us and circumventing dangers from falling rocks and sliding snow and, in due course, we made the summit.

There is no way to describe the euphoria of standing on the summit of a fourteen thousand foot peak. All during the ascent you are looking at the face of the mountain, walking over huge fields of loose rock with the sound of mountain streams underfoot. When the summit is achieved, the whole 360-degree panorama suddenly opens up and you can see forever in all directions. You know you must be short of oxygen because there is an overwhelming desire to just stay there forever. My judgment was so impaired that David had to be quite stern with me when it was time to start down.

The trip down the mountain was just as strenuous as the ascent. We took the easy way of sliding down snow fields whenever possible, but even so, my knees took a beating. By the time we were back at the pickup I was almost unconscious from shear fatigue and I hardly remember most of the trip home. However, in the days and years following I have savored every moment of that beautiful day and I remember my friend and teacher David Engle with great love and affection. We made other climbs together and they were beautiful experiences, but that first day of standing on the top of the world will always be the day I remember.