MY BEGINNING OF THE FINAL THREE

Here is my introduction to Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado’s Crown Jewel.  Spending time in Rocky has brought to me not only the world of climbing but the world of wildflowers.  I have immensely enjoyed learning and expanding my knowledge of Rocky Mountain Wildflowers and had the honor of the Colorado Mountain Club to publish three pack guides I authored. The Alpine Flowers pack guide will be available in March, 2019.  You never know how spending time in Rocky Mountain National Park will change your life forever!  

MY BEGINNING OF THE FINAL THREE  
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It began innocently enough in 1974.  That is when I came to Colorado for a summer job at the YMCA of The Rockies in Estes Park.   I arrived from New Orleans, yes below sea level, in mid-May that year.   Being a proper southern young lady I wanted to make a good impression on my new employer.  I had worn a sleeveless silk dress, rather short as I recall, stockings and the cutest little heeled sandals you ever laid eyes on.  It was approximately 30 degrees and spitting snow. I must tell you, my arrival ended up to be one of the scariest days of my young life.  I recall saying to myself, “I have made a terrible mistake!” ​

Once over the cultural shock, I settled into the rhythm of working and learning about this phenomenon called “hiking”. I was fortunate to meet Dick Chuttke.  He was a retired gentleman, a YMCA member, and a Colorado Mountain Club member who enjoyed hiking with the Y groups.      He became my climbing mentor for the next 20+ years. He taught me how to climb fast and careful at the same time ​and instilled in me the ethics of Leave No Trace before it was a common phrase.

Hayden Spire

From a short silk dress to summits, my progression came fast.  By the end of that summer I had climbed most of the major peaks in Rocky Mountain National Park.  Having graduated from college, I decided to stay in Colorado.  You might say the rest is history, but it was not that simple. 
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I lived in Estes Park for twelve years and climbed in Rocky year-round. I found myself focused on the major peaks, different routes with a few new peaks thrown in once in awhile.  Then came a career move away from Colorado and my beloved mountains. To say I began grieving would be an understatement.   I made the effort to spend a lot of my summers back in Rocky with “my” familiar peaks.  In 2001, I returned to live full time again in Estes Park.  Dorothy may have been on to something, “There is no place like home.”

After completing the 54 Fouteeners in 2005, I was hit with a pain of guilt.  I imagine you all know what it’s like to ignore a friendship.  This was worse; it was like neglecting your own husband.   After all, Rocky Mountain National Park was now my backyard!  I began to rekindle my relationship with Rocky, started studying the map with new interest and curiosity. ​

Pilot Mountain

When you get down to it, though 35 years had passed, Dick’s  spirit motivated me to complete the 126 named summits in Colorado’s crown jewel.   This was the mission I needed to turn neglect into passion.
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First, I carefully laid out the list.  There were 35 peaks I hadn’t yet  climbed. By the summer of 2009, I had only three to go.

Then, reality struck me hard.  THE FINAL THREE were The Sharkstooth, Hayden Spire  (both Class 5 technical climbs) and Pilot Mountain a difficult Class 4 climb.   Had I set myself up for this?  Shouldn’t the last peak be easy,  like Estes Cone or Twin Sisters?   I hadn’t climbed anything beyond Class 4 in years.

​I came to the realization that THE FINAL THREE were meant to be my grand finale. I needed a challenge; I wanted a challenge! I needed to gain my confidence back on the rope; I needed a plan. It sounds like I needed a lot!
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The Sharkstooth was the first of my FINAL THREE.   My climbing partner and I left the parking lot at 3:45a.m.   I once read that eighty percent of success is just showing up, I liked my chances.

In past years I had gazed upon The Sharkstooth countless times, from various points, and not once contemplated climbing it.  Most anyone that sees this spire knows it is an intimidating presence.  Now, here I was actually moving toward it with the intent to clImb this fang of a rock.  I kept walking.  Things were going smooth until the crux:  a wall of 60 feet, extremely exposed.  I found myself looking at this wall, caught up in my own world, for an endless amount of time.  Finally, I took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  I knew I needed to move quickly; no hesitation, just go.  I stepped out onto the wall and got my fingers into the crack - trusting my climbing shoes to hold on what seemed to be nothing - and scampered up.  By the time we summited I was sweating like a pig.  Good thing I had given up that silk dress!   ​

The Sharkstooth

As I climbed toward the summit tears were in my eyes.  This was what it was about:  I hadn’t gotten here because of a list, but because I had taken on the challenge of exploring the new.   For me this comes with great joy, satisfaction and fulfillment.  

Next was Pilot Mountain, which thinking back, I over rated the difficulty.  It was a fun Class 4 climb in Wild Basin. The ridge out to the summit is awesome and the view of Falcon Lake from the summit breath-taking!

The last of the FINAL THREE was Hayden Spire.  I had admired this peak from afar for decades, now I was coming close to standing on the summit.

Marlene climbing on Hayden Spire

As it turned out, this was my most challenging climb in Rocky. Hayden Spire is one of the most remote and aesthetic peaks in Rocky.  For the first time I laid eyes on Lonesome Lake and Hayden Lake, had a close up view of  the layers of Hayden Spire  which can only be seen from the face, and got a real sense of place.  The “cave” was most memorable.    I reached the summit with a smile (ear to ear) on my face. ​

Reflecting on THE FINAL THREE, I will forever remember the air beneath my feet, the sudden flight and song of finches above my head, the sense of inner relaxation and burst of excitement at the same moment and the incredible sound of the silence around me.   

THE FINAL THREE was my way of remembering Dick’s 20+ year companionship on these peaks.  In the mountaineering world this is a speck.  But it is my speck in my world and I am grateful for the opportunity to hold it in my heart.

You may ask, is there anything left of that southern girl from 1974? I like to think so. My father was a riverboat captain; he lived with patience, endurance and perseverance. I like to think I gained these traits from him.
 
And, oh yes, I still love wearing silk dresses (a little longer now) and cute heeled sandals. ​

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