Thus far on my trip, I had covered quite a bit of land (and highpoints) in New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and southeastern Colorado, but I had been no higher than 8,700 feet on any of my hikes. Now I was getting ready to tackle some real peaks, the first being West Spanish Peak. After completing a threesome of Plains counties in southeast Colorado yesterday, I arrived into Trinidad in far-south Colorado around noon, then drove up to Walsenburg to resupply, refresh and spend a little money.

On my drive in from the Plains, from about 60-70 miles away, I could see the two-humped silhouette of the Wahatoya Range, the small isolated range holding the two so-called Spanish Peaks. West Peak is 13,626 feet high, while East Peak comes in at 12,683 feet. From Walsenburg I took US-160 and CO-12 through La Veta for 40 miles to Cucharas Pass. The drive is very pretty and features some odd rock formations: volcanic dikes that radate out from the Wahatoyas in all directions. These are literally massive free-standing walls of rock, as high as 300-400 feet, maybe only 20-40 feet thick, and some over a couple of miles in length. Many have natural arches and holes in them. Fascinating.

From Cucharas Pass I took a very good dirt road another seven miles to Cordova Pass at 11,240 feet elevation, directly below and in full view of West Spanish Peak. It was only about 3 p.m. when I arrived, but this was by design: I wanted to spend the rest of the day there to acclimate to the altitude. At the pass is a nice picnic and camping area. Only one other vehicle was there, however, and its owners came back from their hike about 4 p.m., and left, leaving the whole area to me. I came prepared: lots of food, drinks and reading material. I also made a short hike out to Levy Lookout, a small treeless knob about three-quarters of a mile in which allows for excellent views of all surrounding peaks. This is some real mountain territory: Culebra Peak at 14,069 feet was to my west, while massive Blanca Peak at 14,345 was to my northwest. The Greenhorn Range was to my north, and an interesting peak at "only" 11,569 feet caled Maestes Peak stood immediately north. It looked steep and was surrounded by cliffs.

However, I was transfixed by my objective, West Spanish Peak. From Levy Lookout could see my route: a hike through the forest, then a daunting, intimidatingly steep rock-hop to the summit (see photo). Frankly it looked impossible, at least to me. In time, the sky grew dark and I slept in the back of my truck. During the night I had some breathing issues: the altitude was getting to me obviously. I didn't sleep very soundly.

The next morning, I awoke at sun-up, dressed, ate and started in at 5:30 a.m. The first two miles stays mostly level through the forest, then the route starts a steady gain up switchbacks as the forest thins out. I spooked a herd of deer. Finally, I came to the end of the maintained trail at a large cairn, at the base of the final climb up the rocky ridge.

According to the map I had about 1,600 vertical feet to gain in about a mile, a consistent 25-30% grade over big boulders, small boulders, pebbles and scree. However, past hikers have tromped paths into the softer bits, while cairns help amid the rockier parts. I just put my head down and started hoofing it. At first, it wasn't too bad. Then, below a small cliff, I had loose scree and small talus that made for slow going. I often lost the trail, then re-found it, usually hiking by common sense. Often, I'd identify an odd rock formation and just concentrate on hiking to that, then repeat.

I put my mind in Zen mode and hiked with a clear mind, eventually reaching the upper reaches of the peak, where the trail levelled nicely. The summit was in view, still 300 feet up and another quarter-mile away, but the trail was good and I made good time, reaching the summit at 8:10 a.m. At 13,626 feet, this was the highest I'd been since my hike up Mount Rainier in 1997. But I felt good, last night's breathing episodes long gone. There are three summits, the farthest being highest. I signed the register, snapped some shots, then waited as another guy was slowly coming up. When he arrived, we chatted and he snapped a photo of me. He then sat and waited for his buddy while I started down.

Going down wasn't too bad. Actually, I could see the faint trails better, but the loose rock at those lower cliffs made for slow going. My trekking poles were vital, but once or twice I used five points of contact to get down tricky sections. Finally, I arrived back to the trail and walked out, arriving back to my truck at about 10:30 a.m. I didn't see anyone else the whole way down.

This was a brilliant, invigorating climb that challenged me. The views from the summit were magnificent and I was blessed with great weather. It was actually much easier than it first appeared.

From here I drove to Greenhorn Mountain in Pueblo County