As my summer comes to my end, I find myself frantically trying to figure out how to hold on to every moment I spend at RMBL before it’s snatched away. Over the last few days, people have been filtering out of Gothic. The parking lots are half empty, the dining hall gets a little quieter every day, and there’s warm water in the shower house again. The end of a great summer is always bittersweet. I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished and happy with the friends I’ve made – and yet I feel like I never quite had enough time to “do it all.” When am I going to hike Bellview? Peak my first 14er? See a bear? A beaver? Or do that sunrise hike we planned on the very first weekend? At the same time, as I look back, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of memories I’m able to sift through… every once in a while I’ll choose one from the pile and hold it in my mind’s eye, savoring the rush when I jumped off that waterfall, relishing the euphoria when I took that final step to the summit of Gothic mountain, the untainted, unfiltered joy that ran through my veins as we reenacted the classic prom experience – costumed, giddy, and to be perfectly honest, more than a little drunk. No, I don’t regret not hiking Bellview. I don’t really care that I never saw a bear. The time I didn’t spend peaking that 14er was not wasted. It was spent getting to know some of the strangest, most intelligent, curious, and downright amazing people I’ve ever met.
If I sound nostalgic, it’s because two of my closest friends left over the course of 24 hours. Anyone hanging out around me was treated to more than one crying bout and countless attempts to deny that this was actually happening. Nevertheless, our last week as a whole RMBL family was definitely not wasted.
Exhibit A – Cabin Crawl: a RMBL tradition in which we parody normal people’s ability to participate in pub crawls. A dozen or so cabins sign up to host part of cabin crawl, offering a hilarious theme and a clever drink to match the theme. Everyone tends to travel as a pack, hitting each cabin for 10-15 minutes and then continuing on to the next, with only the moon and iPhones to guide the way to the next alcoholic beverage. Highlights include:
- Redneck Red Rock: we sang the national anthem, praised Donald Trump, shotgunned beers, and danced along to a fiddle
- Frat initiation at Enders: I thought I was a freshman back in the basement of Phi Psi. Bro tanks all around. And a lot of yelling at freshmen (aka all of us). They really did recreate a frat in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It was a little disconcerting.
- Narnia in Richards: we were guided through a handmade wardrobe filled with coats by a horned Mr. Tumnus and emerged into Narnia. It was literally Narnia. White tarps and “snow” littered the ground, while spruce branches covered every other surface. Aslan the lion (aka my mentor Rachel) sat on a perch, clawing and growling at anyone who approached. And there was hot cocoa with whiskey. So there’s that.
- Oh P J at OBJ: there were so many snacks. Nuff said.
The next morning (surprisingly) saw us peaking the 12,600 ft. peak of Gothic Mountain, the behemoth that eclipses the townsite and greets me with its impressive pinnacles every morning when I step out of my cabin. After scarfing down a quick breakfast, 8 of us strode out bravely onto Gothic road and toward the trailhead two miles away. Barely 50 yards into our trip, we found ourselves stuffed into Barb (Rachel’s car). And by stuffed I mean barely breathing – 11 people full of hiking gear does not make for the most comfortable ride in a medium-sized SUV. Nevertheless, the ride was much appreciated – there were thunderstorms predicted to hit in the early afternoon and if we wanted to summit Gothic safely, we needed to cut out as much time as we possibly could. A few minutes later, we were deposited at the foot of the 403 trailhead and Barb sped away toward Treasure Mountain, taking with her one of our original 8. *and then there were 7*
Hiking with ecologists is a whole other ball game than hiking with “normal” people. We must have lost sight of Kat at least a dozen times as she sped ahead or stayed behind to check out a particularly impressive wildflower. Despite a few unscheduled breaks to appreciate some aspect of natural history, we were soon above tree line. Unfortunately, one of our remaining 7 got hit with symptoms of altitude sickness (dizziness, nausea) and decided to stay behind and wait for us below tree line while we scrambled up the ridge, toward the summit, and back. *and then there were 6* Several pika, a couple of elk, and even very far away mountain goats littered the landscape during our final ascent. Very suddenly (as is the norm in Colorado), storm clouds appeared on the horizon. Since day 1 at RMBL, it has been drilled into our skulls that getting hit by lighting on an exposed ridge is not very far out of the realm of possibilities, so we were understandably nervous. However, the group consensus was that we would probably beat the storm and so we pushed on. We knew there were false summits on Gothic, so we weren’t too crestfallen when we got to the “peak” and saw a considerably taller climb laid out in front of us. That had to be the top. It was so tall! When we finally made it to the top, chests heaving and drenched in sweat, our hearts fell. Stretching out before us was a long ridge barely wider than my shoe leading up to what we hoped was the actual summit. Undeterred (sort of), we pressed on. Euphoria pulsed through me as I finally set foot on the summit. From where I stood, I could see the entirety of the East River Valley and part of our Gothic townsite. It was hard to believe we lived in what was only a tiny blip in the grand scheme of the entire valley. It was extraordinarily humbling.
We spent no more than five minutes at the summit before glancing at the clouds and deciding that we should probably sprint back down to treeline, ASAP. Laurel and I, probably the most paranoid of the group, sped ahead and practically tumbled down the ridge in our haste to make it to treeline. I was even chastised harshly when I stopped to look at a butterfly. Apparently, looking at a cool butterfly was not reason enough to get struck by lightning. We all have our priorities I suppose 🙂 After what seemed like an eternity, and after practically destroying both my knees from the constant impact, we made it to treeline and found Maria waiting for us by the trailside. When the entire group reconvened, we continued down the mountain a bit more calmly. As we were nearing the final descent, the skies finally cracked open and we were all suddenly running for cover under a spruce as we scrambled to find our rain gear. Twenty minutes later we found ourselves finally back on Gothic road – tired, wet, but victorious. After about a dozen failed attempts to hitchhike, one kind soul finally stopped and let us hop into the back of his pickup truck, driving with reckless abandon over potholes and puddles. Still, it was much appreciated. We arrived at Gothic, stuffed our faces like barbarians, and passed out.
I woke up later that evening in time to pick Evan up from the Crested Butte bus stop with Laurel and Jaz. Despite being gone about a month and a fresh haircut, Even was practically unchanged. Everything except for the energy that had replaced the sinus infection-induced lethargy that had plagued him during his first stint at Gothic earlier this summer. Lucky for him, he showed up right as our hell-week was getting into full swing and so I was in total stress mode. I was set to present the results of my summer’s research that coming Thursday and I was freaking out. To begin – public speaking often reduces me to a stuttering puddle of sweat (pretty picture huh?). In addition, I was facing the analysis of thousands of lines of data – daunting to say the least. Especially when I began using R (a statistical analysis software) for the first time in half a year and remembered absolutely nothing from my brief stint with the software during my study abroad experience in South Africa. Lucky for me, I have Rachel! Grad student, mentor, and stats wizard extraordinaire, she stayed in the lab till midnight several nights in a row to help me run stats I had never even understood in the literature. Somehow, the week dragged on and I found myself confidently presenting my findings to a room of peers and fellow scientists – not one stutter to speak of. Hoorah!!
That night we celebrated by watching a two-hour comedy special. Otherwise known as the first GOP debate. It was often hard to hear the candidates over the overwhelming laughter/outrage in the room. If you missed it (and are too lazy to watch it…. but really, watch it. It’s hilarious), here are some of the highlights:
“If you find mush, you push” – Scott Walker
“The thing that is probably most important is having a brain” – Ben Carson
“We need to build a wall… I don’t mind having a big beautiful door in that wall” – Donald Trump
“The purpose of the military is to kill people and break things” – Mike Huckabee
It was hard to beat the mirth from Thursday night’s debate, but we certainly tried Friday night. Prom night. The instructions on the whiteboard read “Dress up (open to interpretation).” I fully intended to fly solo, but then I arrived at Marcellina and realized Sam was probably twice my height (see photo) and that it would be hilarious if I wore his shirt as a dress. And I did. I think I even would’ve passed a middle school dress code length test. We took it a step further and decided to go full-on Risky Business. Other fantastic costumes included a group of mimes, trash bags (always classy never trashy), and Karl in a dress. Karl in a dress is always funny. I don’t know if it’s sad or a testament to how ridiculous RMBLers are, but RMBL prom 2015 absolutely kicked my high school prom’s ass.
Saturday was one of the best and worst days I’ve had in Colorado I think. Kat left RMBL soon after breakfast and I had to say goodbye to Laurel that night as she was leaving in the shuttle early next morning (or so we thought. She misscheduled it and we drove her to Gunnison at 5:30am. Don’t worry we still love you!) Yep, I cried both times. But we also managed to pull off one of my favorite adventure days of the summer. Lake, Sam, Laurel and I drove up Gothic road, past Schofield pass, and parked Lake’s jeep in front of a sign that practically said “if you don’t like driving over boulders and next to cliffs, don’t take your car in here.” About a quarter mile down the scary road, we walked a bit into the forest and stopped cold. A waterfall surrounded by boulders was spewing water over a 30-foot ledge and into a small turquoise pool. I thought I must have walked into a postcard. We hardly had time to take in the scene before Lake informed us we were all jumping off the waterfall. Ha. After watching both Lake and Sam jump (and in Lake’s case – scream like a crazy person), Laurel and I very hesitantly walked around to the top of the waterfall and stood at the jumping off point, frozen to the spot. I wasn’t sure what I was more afraid of: the height, or the fact that I was about to jump into a pool of nothing but snowmelt. But somehow I was able to stop thinking for a split second and propel myself from the edge. And into the ice-cold depths of the pool. I came out screaming like a madwoman. After some coaxing, Laurel followed suit, including the crazy person screaming.
After this minor detour, we continued on down the road, and down the road, and further down the road. We ended up walking down a breathtaking gully, tripping over rocks every so often as we took in the sights around us. One river crossing resulted in some painful bushwhacking through a seriously dense stand of willows, followed by a fall into almost nothingness after I mistook some willow branches for solid ground. A definite highlight of the trip (I’m sorry Laurel, but it’s too funny not to share): In the middle of the trail, with a cliff on one side and a steep incline on the other, Laurel decided that she really, really had to pee. After an unsuccessful foray up the incline to find a suitable spot, followed by a very bloody hand, we decided the best option was for her to walk back a few yards and just go for it on the road. After all, we hadn’t seen a hiker or four-wheeler in quite some time, so she was probably safe. Approximately ten seconds into the execution of this plan, the sound of a motor suddenly materialized, and I turned around in time to see two four-wheelers coming around the bend, in total view of Laurel’s poorly chosen pee spot. I think more than one of us may have peed our own pants as we tried to regain our composure. We waved politely to the drivers as they passed us and then laugh-cried for a few more minutes.
About a mile further down the road, we arrived at the Devil’s punchbowl: a waterfall pouring into a huge basin of water (accurately named the punchbowl) located over the side of a cliff. We witnessed two different people take the 40 or 50 foot leap into the water and immediately felt like total wimps for taking 20 minutes to build up the courage to jump off our baby waterfall.
Anyway – we continued on and eventually made it to Crystal. If I thought RMBL was in the middle of nowhere, I had obviously never seen a town like this. Crystal is a town in the middle of the mountains made up of maybe 15 houses and a random bookstore. They also had an outhouse, which was an unexpected luxury. The town is proud to boast a rickety old mill from who-knows-when standing watch over the river that meanders behind the town. We took the necessary family photo and hiked the 2 or 3 hours back to Lake’s car. No major pee incidents this time.
I’m now in the final countdown: 4 days until I pack my bags and head back to civilization. I really don’t think I’m quite ready to go back to flush toilets.
Bonus wildlife photos:
Rocky RaMBLings 
Esa foto de la mariposa pa concurso!! O National Geographic, me encanta como escribes!!
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