Member-only story
Pikes Peak or Bust
Discovering the essence of aging well and all that is good and hopeful about our golden years
“You did what? You climbed Pikes Peak?”
“Yes.”
“You climbed a mountain 14,107 feet high, on foot?”
“Yes.”
My mother is 95 years old, going on 100.
Though her physical capabilities have diminished, she remains sharp and witty of mind, and I must be ever on my toes when I visit her.
I sit at her knee, just as I have done for 70 years. I am still just one of her children.
I know my place.
Our conversations are a rambling of sorts and, once started, she carries on contentedly, with little prompting from me. The memories of her youth are still strong, rock solid.
During a recent visit, our rambling conversation took an odd turn and arrived abruptly at the foot of Pikes Peak in Colorado.
I was incredulous. My mother was eager to tell the story.
Soon after their marriage, my father and mother, along with her younger sister, decided to climb “America’s Mountain” on foot.
When I asked why they chose to climb this particular mountain, and why they wanted to hike it…
