Every summer, for the past seven years or so, my family takes a trip to Colorado.  Usually, our road trip consists of many stops at rest areas for picnic style lunches and dinners, card games played using our bags and a frisbee as a table, and hours on end of seeing the beautiful plains of South Dakota and Nebraska.  The fun hardly starts as we are driving.  Our final destination is Rainbow Trail Lutheran Bible Camp, located in the Sangre de Cristo mountain range in South-Central Colorado.  This camp has played a vital role in raising me. 

Summer of 2017, two days before we left, I asked my parents if my best friend Anna could come to Rainbow Trail with us.  Miraculously, my parents were all for it.  My mom, dad, brother, sister, myself and Anna all packed into our minivan along with all of our baggage, as well as paint and lumber (because my dad would be painting throughout the week), and we began our journey.  Anna loved her time spent at Rainbow Trail, so we invited her back the following summer. 

 Summer of 2018, just a few short months ago, brought many adventures for my family, and our usual trip out to Rainbow Trail was one of them.  Anna and I were feeling rather ambitious, and had decided before we left, that we were going to hike to Eagle Peak, one of the longest hikes that is offered during our week.  The only hike I had ever done before at Rainbow Trail was one mile long.  This hike was 16 miles long.  I figured it wouldn’t be too bad, and if my brother (who had been working at Rainbow Trail all summer) could do it, then I could too.  Let me remind you, my brother was acclimated to the elevation and I most definitely was not.  We left early Wednesday morning, and both Anna and I really didn’t know what we were in for. 

At five in the morning, our alarms went off.  We rose before the sun, quickly and quietly got dressed, and walked from our cabin to the dining hall to eat breakfast and pack food for the rest of our day.  There were food items spread out on a table for us to choose from: bread and various kinds of lunch meat, apples, cereal, and homemade protein bars.  Some people ate breakfast, some trimmed their toenails so that after the hike, they wouldn’t turn black and blue and fall off.  We grabbed what we thought would be necessary, packed it into out backpacks, and our group of around 15 people headed off on our hike.  The sun was still not up, but once we made it to a clearing, we were able to watch the sunrise.  We hiked for about four miles along a rocky road that led us to Ballman Reservoir.  When I say the road was rocky, I don’t mean gravel or small rocks.  The rocks ranged from the size of a softball to the size of a soccer ball, and they were not easy on our feet at all.  One of our group members was feeling a lot of pain in her feet and legs, so she stayed back by herself at the Reservoir, and the rest of us continued on. 

We traveled down the rocky road for a couple more miles, taking breaks occasionally so that people could use the bathroom or eat something. It was about ten in the morning, and we all needed to refuel our bodies. The road led us to Rainbow Lake.  Rainbow Lake was nestled into a little valley at the base of the mountains’ peak.  It was hidden behind aspen and pine trees, and it was found on a separate path, not too far from the road we had been on.  The lake was surrounded by walls of mountains.  These “walls” looked as if they were at a perfect 90-degree angle, straight up.  The hike had already been challenging, due to the thin air and the conditions of the road we were traveling on.  I had no idea that shortly after our break, we would be climbing up those walls.   The lake was not what you may have pictured; the water was not crystal clear or a bright and beautiful blue, it was muddy and green, far from clean.  Fortunately, there was a mountain stream right down the path, that was running with clean water.  The August heat was really getting to us.  We had all drank at least two or three 32-ounce water bottles, and our day wasn’t even halfway over.  We refilled our water bottles and dropped iodine tablets into them.  Another one of our group members was feeling sick and somewhat light headed, so he turned around and didn’t continue with our group.  The rest of the gang took a much-needed rest for ten or fifteen minutes, and then headed down a path towards the wall. 

The hike became more and more challenging as we went up.  My calves ached, and my lungs didn’t seem to know if they could take the thin air for much longer.  We had to stop nearly ever 20 steps, so that everyone could catch their breaths.  Our guides, accidentally of course, led us along the wrong path; a path that actually wasn’t a path at all.  We were trekking up a mountain that was built of rock and tree roots, and we weren’t even on a path.  Eventually, we found the trail and continued forth.  There were many times along our hike where I told myself that I didn’t think I’d be able to make to make it up this steep wall, but I, as well as everyone else in the group, continued on.  After what seemed like miles and miles of hiking at such a steep angle, we reached the tree line, and could see down to Rainbow Lake where we had been just a few hours ago.  It was around noon at this point, and that meant all of us were ready for lunch.  We kept going, until we reached “lunch spot”.  Lunch spot is the place where people who hike Eagle typically eat lunch, as you could probably have figured out.  We rested our bodies and admired the incredible view that was in front of us.  We could see for hundreds of miles; it was truly incredible, and we hadn’t even peaked yet.

The next part of our hike had been talked about by our guides along the way.  They would tell us that once we reached The Meadow, we were only about two miles from the peak, and I thought that didn’t seem too bad.  If we had all made it this far, The Meadow should be a breeze, and the name they gave it (The Meadow) seemed rather tame. Once again, I was very wrong.  The air, getting thinner with every step, made it impossible to breathe.  I would count 20 steps in my head, then pause so I could catch my breath.  This grassy area seemed never-ending. The group was spread out, everyone moving at their own pace.  I felt as if I was making no progress.  I could see the peak of the mountain, or at least what I thought was the peak.   Along the way up, I was told by someone that what I was looking at was a “false peak,” meaning the real peak was still further ahead.  My stomach began to churn, and I was sure I was going to throw up.  The elevation was a real kick in the gut.  However, I knew that the next part of the hike wasn’t going to be any easier.  I kept pushing forward. 

The Meadow was far from a meadow, so I didn’t know what to expect when I heard that “Boulder Field” was next.  This time, the name was a perfect fit, expect the “field” was at a pretty steep angle.  My brain seemed to be getting foggy; it was hard to focus on what I was doing, and it became hard to think straight.  My brain, however, wasn’t the only thing that was becoming foggy.  Clouds were moving in on us at an intimidating speed.  We kept climbing, but we were all very aware of the storm that was quickly approaching.  The directors at camp radioed up to the counsellors who were leading us and told us that we should turn around.  My friend Anna and I got a quick picture together before we turned around and began our hike back down the mountain with the rest of the crew.  We could see lightning in the distance, and being that we were above the tree line, us hikers would be the highest point of contact for the lighting.  Lightning in the mountains, especially above tree line, is very dangerous.  The clouds moved in quickly and were very thick.  We were back in The Meadow, just going down instead of up this time, and we did our best to stay within each other’s sight. Anna and I ended up grabbing each other’s hands at one point just to make sure we wouldn’t lose each other in the thick fog.  It began to rain, but thankfully it wasn’t coming down too hard.  As we moved further down the meadow, I thought I saw something moving in the distance.  I was sure it was a person, but it wasn’t someone that was a part of our group.  I figured I was just seeing things; my head was still a little foggy.  When I saw movement for a second time, I realized that what I saw wasn’t a person at all, it was a mountain lion.  Someone else in our group saw it too, but the fog was so thick that we didn’t know exactly which direction it headed in.  Mountain lions are by no means tame, and when they feel threatened, they will attack.  We were intruding on his territory, and that would have been reason for him to be upset.  Our group all gathered together near lunch spot and decided on what plan of action we should take.  We all had whistles, in case we were to get lost, but they came in handy for an alternate reason on this particular hike.  We all blew our whistles in hopes of scaring the mountain lion off.  Thankfully, that seemed to work.  We never saw the mountain lion again. 

We reached lunch spot again, and it began to hail.  The hail wasn’t big, it was probably only the size of popcorn kernels, but it hurts to get pelted by ice of any size when you’re only wearing shorts.  The hail stopped just before we reached the tree line again.  We were able to see God in action as he brought us through the storm safely, and we were able to admire his incredible creation once again before heading back into the trees.  I knew what was ahead, and I figured going down the steep wall would be much easier than going up it.   However, what I didn’t take into consideration was the fact that the ground and all of the trees I had used to help me stay balanced were wet and slippery from the rain. 

Walking down at such a steep angle will really damage your feet, and it was at that moment when I realized why people had trimmed their toenails before we left.  My toes slammed into the front of my hiking boots with every step.  (I still have a blood blister under my big toenail today, three months later.)  After slipping and falling only a couple of times, we made it back down to Rainbow Lake.  The sun was shining and there were no clouds in sight.  We were all tired, so we took another 15-minute break; it was much needed and well deserved.  All we had left was another couple of miles along Ballman Road.

The hike down the road seemed to feel like the longest part of the whole day.  Everyone was eager to get back to camp after an eventful hike.  My toes hurt, and my legs were starting to feel like spaghetti.  However, we were able to take in more incredible sights, now that the clouds had cleared.   

The road seemed never ending, but we did, of course, make it back to camp at the end of the day, just before dinner.  We prayed as a group when we got back to camp, thanking God for a safe yet exciting day, and thanking him for blessing us with such an incredible world and such marvelous sights to see. 

Hiking to Eagle Peak taught me so much.  I learned more about perseverance through this experience than I ever had before.  I doubted myself along the way but kept pushing forward.  I learned that spending nearly 14 hours with the same small group of people will bring many inside jokes and strong bonds that cannot be broken.  The encouragement between us was something that I had never experienced with another group of people before.  Although we technically didn’t make it all the way to the top of the mountain, I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world, and although my body was tired and sore at the end of the day, the journey was worth it.