After we moved from Chicago to Colorado a friend invited my wife and me to accompany him on a hike up a 14,000-foot (4,300-meter) mountain, one of 54 such “14ers” in Colorado.
Without thinking, we agreed. Sunshine Mountain barely makes the list, slouching in at a measly 14,001 feet. We hiked up, huffing and puffing all the way, then stood for a moment on the summit to catch our breath, awestruck by the glorious panorama of the Rockies that you only see from atop one. Invigorated, we hiked over to a neighboring peak, Red Cloud, took a “shortcut” down and learned a lesson about improvised shortcuts by finding ourselves stranded on cliff bands.
Since that day in 1993, we’ve climbed a few 14ers every summer. On the easier climbs the trail begins at 9,000-10,000 feet and it takes five or six hours to ascend the peak and three or four more to descend. The more remote mountains require a long hike to the trailhead and an overnight camp. Around a third of Colorado’s 14ers demand no real climbing moves, just a vigorous hike in reduced oxygen. Another third call on all four limbs to scramble up boulder fields and rock formations; the remaining third have scary exposure and can be downright dangerous.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, in 2007 I had an auto accident and for seven hours I lay strapped to a backboard while doctors tried to determine whether my neck fracture had nicked a major artery—if so, they said, I would die before they could get me to surgery. I make my living as a Christian writer, I thought. I should come up with some final reflections in case they are my last. I’m embarrassed to say that one thought overwhelmed all others: I can’t die yet—I’ve climbed 51 of the 14ers. I’ve got three more to go!
As should be obvious if you’re reading this, I didn’t die that day. Enter a new friend, Eric Alexander, who had trained and helped guide the first blind person to summit Mt. Everest. (You can read about Eric’s exploits on his website, www.highersummits.com.) Eric sent this message through a mutual friend: “If Philip needs any help climbing the last three 14ers, I’ll be glad to lead him.” I jumped at the chance, figuring that if he could get a blind guy up Mt. Everest he could get me up anything in Colorado. Later that summer, a few months after having my neck brace removed, I climbed my 54th and last 14er.
Or so I thought. You see, I had climbed ten of them without my wife, who suddenly got the bug. She had always claimed, “Philip climbs with the singular goal of reaching the top. I climb with the goal of identifying 25 species of wild flowers on the way up, and if I reach the summit, all the better.” When Janet learned how few women had completed all 54 peaks, however, she became more focused and together we attempted those last ten (some of them with the help of patient Eric). On September 16 this summer, at 9:26 am, we reached the top of Ellingwood Point, Janet’s last unclimbed Colorado 14er!
We have had some wonderful experiences along the way. We’ve seen bighorn sheep stand on their hind legs and head-butt each other with a sound that echoed like thunder. We’ve watched baby mountain goats scramble up in 20 seconds the same rock-strewn gully that took us 45 minutes to maneuver. We’ve lain on sleeping bags and tracked satellites across a Milky Way galaxy that sparkled like diamond dust. On the summit of one mountain we stood in complete quiet and heard the plaintive bugling of a bull elk hidden in the trees some 4,000 feet below. We’ve nearly stepped on a nesting ptarmigan, a bird perfectly camouflaged to look like a rock in the summer, only to lose its feathers and grow pure white ones for the winter snow. Early one morning we startled a flock of mountain bluebirds who flew up and suddenly caught the sunlight with an explosion of color like silent fireworks. You only get these sights by hiking into the wilderness, and then you realize you’re the only persons on earth graced by such a thrilling encounter with God’s creation.
The mountains have given me two indelible images of grace. Sometimes I’ve taken ill-advised detours and sometimes I’ve simply gotten lost. Wandering around in search of the trail, I’ll turn a corner and see a lush carpet of wild flowers: columbine, Indian paintbrush, elephant’s head, bishop’s cap. God has lavished this planet with beauty that shines forth whether anyone notices it or not. God is both a giver and an artist, and what God creates shouts back wordless praise, as the Psalms remind us.
The second image comes from the water that begins in melting snowfields near the top, trickles down to form runnels, then lovely Alpine lakes, then streams, and finally roaring rivers at the bottom. Grace, like water, always flows down. You cannot read the Bible without hearing the loud message: God cares for the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, the humble, the needy—and so should we.
Of course, the mountains themselves are the main players in this drama. You keep looking up at the summit, gauging how much distance remains, checking clouds for the potential of deadly thunderstorms. Some mountains bear plaques memorializing a young climber killed by lightning. I have never been so miserable as the time I hunkered down under a rock overhang for almost an hour with an icy waterfall pouring down my back; my legs were cramping but I dared not venture out into the meadow, where lightning bolts were crashing like percussion bombs. And I have never been so terrified as inching along a tiny 
ledge trying not to look down at the thousands of feet of empty space below. Anne LaMott says her two favorite prayers are “Thanks! Thanks! Thanks!” and “Help! Help! Help!”; climbing offers splendid opportunities for both.
It’s hard not to think of the mountains as sometimes angry or sinister—a “pathetic fallacy” as the literature professors would say. (Indeed, the Psalms do not hesitate to use such pathetic fallacies: “Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy.”) Yet in truth, as the great climber Reinhold Messner reminds us, “Mountains are not fair or unfair, they are just dangerous.” Another renowned climber, Ed Viesturs, puts it this way: “Mountains don’t kill people, they just sit there.”
My wife likes to repeat yet another comment by Viesturs: “Getting to the summit is optional, getting down is mandatory.” Sometimes we’ve had to turn back a mere few hundred yards from the summit due to thunderstorms or wind, a wrenching decision when you know you’ll have to repeat the arduous climb at a later date. There’s a strong chance, however, that I survived to write these words because on occasion I did turn back, albeit reluctantly.
I have no desire to tackle other mountains, like Rainier, Denali, or (horrors!) Everest. Janet and I had no idea when we first ventured up Sunshine Mountain what would lie ahead. We’ve experienced the magnificent state of Colorado from its 54 highest peaks, and that is more than enough. Our boots have lost their tread, our hiking poles are bent, our legs bear the scars of unstable rocks. Our bodies—and yes, our marriage—have passed a difficult challenge. Writing from the comfort of my basement office, I feel like we’ve reached the summit. Somewhere I read this observation from a fellow adventurer: “Climbing a 14er is like love—anticipated with pleasure, experienced with discomfort, and remembered with nostalgia.” Indeed.
Awesome!! This blog and photos just did me in. I have friends who don’t believe in God as creator. I will never get that. How can they miss it?
You have become my FAVORITE author! I just finished reading Soul Survivor for the second time – highlighting all the way. I then give them to my daughter and/or her friends. I just feel that book speaks volumes in SO many ways. My goal is to read all your books. I’m probably more than half way through. You just speak my language (I was raised in a Plymouth Brethren setting). What’s So Amazing About Grace knocked me out! All the way through, I’m thinking ‘Really? Is this really true? Can I really believe this?’ YES! I really do believe it! Just know that you have so helped me to get over some major misconceptions caused by legalistic influence/upbringing. Thank you for sharing your experiences, Philip Yancey!
I’ve been meaning to write to you for a long time. I held back thinking you must get hundreds/thousands of letters. So now I did it anyway – kind of….
Are you employed? Maybe I should hire you as my p.r. person. Thanks for the encouragement.
Philip
Oh this post was fabulous…I am a longtime reader of your books (I think I have read everyone at least once, some more than) This was a breaktaking post of our God’s glorious creation. Every summer and fall as a kid and later as an adult we went camping in Yosemite National Park…I was blessed to have parents who had a deep appreciation of nature and the God who created it all. Someday I would love to visit Colorado…..Thank you, I felt as if I went on a mini vacation sitting at my desk here! Lori
Once again you have captured in rich detail the human experience in relationship to a loving and creative God. The picture you present here explains exactly why I am drawn to the mountains. Sadly I have only two 14ers under my belt. More to come!
“God has lavished this planet with beauty that shines forth whether anyone notices it or not”–what a wonderful way to “notice” it, climbing five and a half dozen high peaks. Thanks for the beautiful reports from the top!
Hei Philip!
I also want to express my greatfulness of your books. Those wirittings of yours have shown so much light on my way. As you often write that your goal is to wipe the dust off on christianity, and how I see it, that is exactly what you have done! You have also wrote how lonely it is to be a writer. I want you to know that there are many who have experienced your writtings greater than a fresh air in a stinking closet:D What I also think is marvelous, that your books are number one nutrition for a christian, but they are also books that one can easily give to someone who is not that sure about christianity, what a great mixture really! Your books give an impression that christianity is actually life and life is actually christianity, and we are all humanbeings wether we were christians or not. Keep on doing what you have been up to! Keep on being even sharper, and ask even harder question. Thank God for giving as such a writer as you are.