A minister at Saint Peter’s Church in Basalt, Father Will Fisher is a fixture of our local running community. A championship rower at Brown University, Will has since shifted his focus to other endurance sports and has completed several Ironmans, a few 100 milers , and numerous other endurance feats. This summer Will decided to run/climb one of the more daunting summits in the Elks, Capitol Peak, before he headed into work for the day. It’s adventures like these that make us proud to have Will as a member of our Salomon Independence Run and Hike Race team this year. Read on to hear about Will’s awesome day.
A couple months ago, I did something that I had wanted to do since moving to Basalt three years ago: I safely climbed Capitol Peak. Visible from the Whole Foods parking lot, you might know Capitol as the peak that resembles a primitive hatchet blade, poking up behind the hills. Apparently, silver miners in the 1870’s thought the mountain resembled the Capitol building in Washington, DC. Personally, I don’t see much of a resemblance, but who am I judge. In any case, the peak sits on public land in the Maroon-Snowmass Wilderness of the White River National Forest, here in Colorado.
So, loaded up with 70 oz of water, some snacks, and my ultralight Salomon Fast Wing jacket in my pack and Salomon S-Lab Wings on my feet, I began my run. More accurately, I ran and hiked the long, uphill approach. Then I climbed up and down the technical parts near the summit, ultimately running the whole way back down to my car at the trailhead.
The approach takes one through six miles of forest and meadow. The abundance of purple, gold, and magenta wildflowers provided a real treat for the eyes in the higher meadows, just below Capitol’s North Face. The placid waters of Capitol Lake reflect the peaks craggy majesty. Two hours elapsed before I gained the saddle between Capitol’s sub-peak, K2 and Mount Daley. From that saddle, One has to descend slightly and then begin a long, ascending traverse across a boulder field up to K2.
The climbing becomes “spicy” at K2. Reputedly the hardest of Colorado’s 14ers, Capitol boasts an extended difficult section with technical climbing, exposure, and loose rock. Fortunately, those dangers don’t overlap. For many, the biggest difficulty comes when the climber has to cross a formation known as the Knife’s Edge. Here, the challenge is psychological more than anything. The Knife’s Edge looks like it sounds: a sharp ridge where both sides drop steeply down two thousand feet. This climb is not from the acrophobes, but my Salomon Wings gave me the traction I needed. Once across the Knife’s Edge, its another scramble up to the summit. It took me just over four hours to reach my sought-after pinnacle. I had the summit and the rest of the mountain to myself.
I celebrated only a little bit as my work wasn’t over yet. Of course, mountaineers don’t make the summit to be their goal; rather their goals is always to return to safety. The descent, particularly the return across the Knife’s Edge requires all of a climber’s mental concentration. Fortunately, the rock on the Knife’s Edge is solid; just don’t look down. Once past K2, the descent down the boulder field was a breeze. My Salomon Trail Gaiters kept rocks out of my shoes for the entire descent as my Wings really did feel like they were making me fly.
The run back down from the saddle, through the wildflower and past the crystal lake, stirred me in a way I didn’t expect. A couple times, I just had to stop and look around. I think I just yelled at the top of my lungs several times; no intelligible words, just shouts of unrestrained joy. Paradoxically, I felt incredibly humbled by just how big and wonderful everything seemed. Add to that mixture of emotions how alive and exhilarated one feels after taking well managed risks. For lack of a better description, I felt really, really alive. This experience reminded me why so many people experienced some kind of transcendent presence on mountain tops. My trek up Capitol wasn’t just a run; this was a spiritual exercise, a touching of the divine. Mountain top experiences, whether literal or metaphorical, speak to us in beauty, wonder, awe, and sometimes even fear. They call us to serve and share that awe and beauty, even taking risks, if necessary; they call us to be really, really alive. They leave us forever changed.