This past September my family took a trip to Colorado Springs to visit my best friend from high school and her husband. After we spent a few days exploring all the great natural wonders there; the Garden of the Gods, Cave of the Winds, Cliff Dwellings, all the beautiful scenery, we decided to head to Denver and spent the day at the Denver Zoo. We had a great time reminiscing and getting reacquainted with each other. I wouldn't consider myself an extremely active person, I usually walk 3 to 5 miles per day or more. On the way back from Denver I decide I was climbing Pike's Peak the next day. I thought, after all. How hard can a 12 mile hike be. HA! I think everyone thought I was crazy, but they knew I meant it. The next morning my friend and I got up way before dawn. It was pretty chilly. We had prepared CamelBaks and high carb snacks. We had sweatshirts and gloves and everything we needed. My friend had trained for an Accent on Pike's Peak, so she knew everything we needed. It was right before dawn when we started up the mountain. It was so beautiful to look back and watch the sun rise over Manitou Springs/ Colorado Springs. Being a flat lander from Iowa, I quickly realized I hadn't really adjusted to 7000+ ft. (I reside at about 800 ft.) I had to make frequent stops to catch my breath. The time it took me to get to Barr Camp, basically the half way point, many locals could have been to the top. I probably would have been smart and turned around at that point, but I am way too stubborn for that, so upward we climbed. It seemed like days had passed by the time we made it to tree line, approximately 3/4th up the mountain. Just past tree line is when my friend realized I have a fear of heights. Up to that point I felt some what secure, in all the trees. When it was just rocks and thin air my fears rose significantly. My friend was wondering how she was ever going to get me off that mountain. At 11,000+ ft. breathing became difficult, compounded by self inflicted fears, the last 3 miles were excruciatingly slow and difficult. The last mile of Pike's Peak is pretty trying for many locals there, the last part just before the summit is nicknamed the "16 Golden Stairs". Don't let them fool you! It is not 16 steps and you are at the summit. It is a grueling series of steep switchbacks that seemed to make the previous climb seem trivial, and it is really damn cold up there. At times on that climb I thought I wouldn't survive and it probably took me double the time it would take people more accustomed to the altitude and extreme physical exertion, but I made it! I CRAWLED onto the 14,110 ft summit, eventually, I crawled to the truck and into the back seat, and buried my head in a pillow until we were back down the mountain. I started feeling better then, and proud, and all that other giddy stuff. I am no mountain climber, for sure. But I would do it again. It was beautiful! An experience I will never forget. We went to the Pike's Peak Harley Davidson shop. I bought a hooded sweatshirt. So now I can say, "been there, done that, got the swe...". Aww nevermind *grin* Thank you Ellen for helping me have such a beautiful experience.
=) I think people in the animal field are magnets for wayward animals. My mom called me about a month ago, the first thing she said when I answered the phone was; "I think we have an emergency!" There was a little kitten laying on it's side, under a bush, in a pile of cold wet leaves. No mommy cat in sight. She waited a while to see if the mom cat came back for the kitten, but she did not. It was really cold out, around 40F degrees. I told my mom the kitten would not make it on it's own. So my mom went out with a towel, got the kitten, and not sure what else to do, brought it to me. The kitten was in big trouble. He was ice cold to the touch, mewing loudly but could not lift his head. He was covered in fleas and had a gash on his face and back of his head, there was saliva all over his body, another animal must have been using him as a toy, or worse. I filled my trusty warm water bottles, and warmed some kitten formula. I made it clear to my mom that I did not have high hopes the poor thing could live. His body temperature came up and he got hungry. I fed him formula several times that night, all he could stand. The next day I took him to the Vet. He tested Negative for Feline Lukemia! I got some eye ointment for his mattered eyes, and medicines for his wounds. The Vet guessed his age at 4 weeks. That night he started eating canned food mixed with formula. From that point on, he has been unstoppable. He is a little terror! He will open his mouth wide and run at your hand to "get" you. His kitten "motor" is so loud, and he is so angelic when he is sleeping on your chest, or where ever he falls down at any given time. He is simply beautiful. My mom took him home with her about a week ago. He is so happy and so lucky she found him. Such a fantastic little guy!