Hiking Colorado’s Missouri Mountain

Missouri Mountain, as seen from Missouri Gulch.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only!

Colorado’s Collegiate Peaks Wilderness contains some of the state’s prime alpine scenery while at the same time delivering accessible adventure to anyone with a good set of lungs, a strong set of legs and a stout heart. The mountains here are not known for their technical challenges, but they do have a reputation for having lengthy routes and beefy elevation profiles. The mountains of the Sawatch Range, of which the Collegiates are a part, aren’t walk in the park.

One of my favorite areas of the Collegiates is Missouri Gulch. Three 14ers and more than a few 13ers are accessible from the gulch. Of the ones I’ve done, Missouri Mountain (14,067 feet) is a favorite.

The gulch leads to a large U-shaped basin. On its western flank is a ridge with three unnamed 13,000-foot points. To the east is Mount Belford (14,197 feet) and Peck’s Peak (13,270 feet). The closed end of the amphitheater is a tapered ridge whose high point is the summit of Missouri Mountain.

Missouri Mountain is a hike, with one brief scrambling section near the summit. The route starts steep, mellows for awhile in the basin, then steepens again as you gain the peak’s northwest ridge. Once that ridge is tackled, the summit ridge is a pleasant hike to the top, with that one crux area to negotiate. From the top, you get an excellent view of the entire basin as well as a panorama of the rest of the Collegiates. It’s pretty mind-blowing. Anyway, let’s get to the route description.

The switchbacks going up Missouri Gulch.

From the trailhead, hike across a bridge and about a quarter-mile, where you will reach a series of steep switchbacks. The incline relents slightly as you continue hiking through the woods. Near 10,800 feet you will reach two creek crossings. Near 11,000 feet you will reach a more level area where the remains of an old trapper’s cabin sit. This is a good spot to take a breather or, if you’re backpacking, to set up camp. The creek that runs through the area is a good place to filter water if needed.

In Missouri Gulch Basin, just above treeline, looking back.

Leaving the trees at 11,300 feet, the trail continues uphill through a large patch of willows. Here you will reach a split in the trail; going left will take you up to Mount Belford, while heading right keeps you on track to Missouri Mountain.

Your first trail junction. Left to Mount Belford, right to Missouri Mountain. Go right.

Continue up a hill just below 13,000 feet where you’ll reach another fork in the trail. Left takes you to Elkhead Pass (this can also take you to Belford’s summit), right takes you to Missouri Mountain’s northwest slopes.

Easier hiking in the basin.

Your second trail junction. Left takes you to Elkhead Pass, right goes to Missouri’s northwest ridge. Go right.

The trail will lead you to a series of steep and at times rocky switchbacks. A few sections of this part of the route have moderate exposure.

Starting up the ridge. The hiking gets steeper here.

More from lower on the ridge.

Higher on the ridge, looking toward Mount Belford.

Around 13,700 feet you will gain Missouri’s ridge, and the hiking will ease. Continue following the trail east toward the summit. There will be moderate exposure to your left.

On the summit ridge. The hiking eases here, but another obstacle remains.

More from along the summit ridge. Near here is a notch that will require some brief scrambling.

Just shy of 14,000 feet you’ll reach a notch that drops about 30 feet. This requires a more careful descent on rocky and sandy ground, but is not quite Class 3.

Close to the summit now.

Once down the notch, continue up the trail for a last bit of steeper hiking to Missouri’s summit.

Summit view of Missouri Gulch Basin.

Mount Harvard is visible to the left.

View of Mount Belford from Missouri’s summit.

The route is Class 2, with the notch Class 2+, and third-class (moderate) exposure. Route length is 10.5 miles round-trip with 4,500 feet of elevation gain.

Interested in reading the original trip report? You can see it here.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s ‘Decalibron’ loop: Mount Democrat, Mount Cameron, Mount Lincoln and Mount Bross

Nephew Jordan on Mount Democrat.

NOTE: Going through old trip reports, I’ve found a lot of them are long on storytelling and short on beta. So on occasion, I’m going to revisit a few peaks to give a more straightforward look at what it’s like to hike or climb these mountains.

There are few opportunities where you can combine four 14,000-foot summits within a relatively modest 7-plus miles, but that is what you get with the Lincoln Group – more commonly known as the Decalibron – in the heart of the Mosquito Range.

The Debalibron consists of four 14ers – Mount Democrat, Mount Cameron, Mount Lincoln and Mount Bross. Cameron, though above 14,000 feet, is an “unofficial” 14er due to the fact that it has less than 300 feet of prominence from nearby Mount Lincoln.

This is a fun day of straightforward hiking – a strong pair of legs and lungs are all that are needed, in addition to a sharp eye on the skies and the Ten Essentials most hikers carry in their day packs. If you catch it at the right time of year, the Decalibron can offer a wildflower bonanza. Either way, there are old mines to see, plus great views of nearby ranges. Much of the hike is above 13,000 feet.

Low on the trail above Kite Lake.

A little higher, above the ruins of an old mine.

From Kite Lake, follow the trail as it goes up the slopes toward a saddle between Mount Democrat (14,148 feet) and Mount Cameron (14,238 feet). You’ll pass some Kite Lake campsites, then follow the trail to the ruins of the Kentucky Belle Mine. From here, the trail ascends a rocky slope where you’ll gain much of the elevation in this hike. It will follow three switchbacks before hitting the saddle between Mount Democrat and Mount Cameron.

Going up the slopes of Mount Democrat.

Once at the saddle, go left and follow steeper switchbacks up to a broad, flatter area just below the summit. From here, hike to remaining couple of hundred yards to the top. The hike up Mount Democrat gains about 2,000 feet and is the hardest part of the route. Democrat is also a good point to stop, look at the weather and decide if you will move on to Mount Cameron.

On the summit of Mount Democrat.

From here, descend the mountain back to the saddle and follow the trail up the ridge on Cameron. The terrain steepens for a few hundred yards, then eases as the summit nears. Cameron’s summit is broad, and you get a good look toward Mount Lincoln and the remaining route toward Mount Bross. This is another good place to do a weather check and see if you will have time for what comes next.

Low on Cameron’s ridge, looking back at the saddle and Mount Democrat. This is a good view of the route of Mount Democrat.

Higher on Cameron’s ridge, with a nice view of Quandary Peak.

From the summit of Mount Cameron, looking at Mount Bross.

The moonscape summit of Mount Cameron, with a view of Mount Democrat.

The easiest part of the route is following the trail off Cameron’s moonscape-like summit toward the saddle between it and Mount Lincoln (14,286 feet). It’s a short descent, then a quick rise over a knob, then on to Lincoln’s true summit.

A short, easy walk to Mount Lincoln’s summit from Cameron.

From here, go back to the Cameron/Lincoln saddle and follow the trail that goes around Cameron’s south side. It continues between a long, broad connecting ridge to Mount Bross (14,172 feet). This is the longest section of the upper route, and is a mild grade in its entirety. The 1.5 mile hike to Bross ends either just short of the summit or, if you wish, follow one of the unmaintained trails (there are a few) to the top.

Looking back on Mount Lincoln while on the way to Mount Bross.

Something to keep in mind: The summit of Mount Bross is private property, so technically speaking, hitting its summit is an intrusion. But most people hike to its summit anyway.

On Mount Bross, heading down. Mount Democrat is to the left, Mount Cameron to the right.

Leaving Bross, head west down the ridge that slopes down toward Kite Lake. The hiking is easy at first, but degrades as you get lower and the route steepens. Loose footing is present until the route goes left of the ridge and follows a more solid, gentler decline that leads to the willows and the easy hiking back to the lake.

Going down Mount Bross. Lots of loose talus.

Lower on Mount Bross, heading back toward the trailhead.

The route is 7.25 miles from the lake. Going up Mount Democrat is Class 2; the rest of the hiking, with the exception of the descent off Bross, is Class 1. Danger from falls (exposure) is minimal, with the exception of a few points on the summit of Mount Lincoln, and even there it’s manageable. The route is straightforward and easy to follow on well-defined trails, though its can get somewhat murky coming off the loose talus on the lower part of Mount Bross.

Waterfall sighting close to the trailhead.

If you want to park by the Kite Lake trailhead, you’ll need to pay a $3 fee. Camping is available near the trailhead. The road to the trailhead can be somewhat rough, but most cars and trucks with some clearance can manage it. You can avoid the fee by parking below the parking area along the road, though that will add some length to your hike.

Want to read the original trip report? You can see it here.

Bob Doucette

Climbing Colorado’s North Eolus

A cropped look at North Eolus, from the summit of Mount Eolus.

NOTE: This is the next in a series of revisiting some peaks from past trip reports, with an emphasis more on the route. Special thanks to Mike Zdero and Matt Carver for helping me out with some photos for this one; for some reason, I didn’t feel like taking many pics going up this mountain.

Of the four 14ers of Chicago Basin, North Eolus (14,039 feet) is probably something of an afterthought. It’s not an “officially ranked” 14er because it’s summit does not rise 300 feet or more from the saddle connecting it to its parent peak, Mount Eolus.

That said if you set out to climb it, there will be no doubt left in your mind that it’s a real mountain, complete with a few challenges and incredible summit views. North Eolus is usually done in tandem with Mount Eolus, and among the Chicago Basin 14ers, some might argue that it’s the easiest of the four to get. I can’t make the judgment – all I can say is I thoroughly enjoyed its comfortable, scenic summit perch. By itself, with Mount Eolus, or with the rest of the Chicago Basin 14ers, this is an unforgettable alpine wilderness experience.

Some of the information to follow is identical to that of Mount Eolus, so if you read my post on that one, you can skip ahead a bit. But if not, read on.

Getting to Chicago Basin is a bit of an obstacle. It’s remote, and there’s no quick way to get to its trailhead on foot. You basically have two choices: Hike in from Durango (that might take at least a couple of days) or get an open-air ticket on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Train, a tourist service that takes vacationers on a ride between the two towns and through the mountain scenery along the Animas River. Most people do the latter, a service provided by the train operator to backpackers. The train stops at a place called Needleton (there’s no town there, just a spot for the train to stop and let people off), and on the banks of the Animas River there is a pedestrian bridge that leads you to a trail. Your ticket price will include pickup and a return trip to Durango once your trip is over; be sure to book in advance.

The bridge leading across the Animas River from Needleton.

From the bridge crossing, a good trail goes all the way to the Basin. It starts out flat, but soon you start gaining elevation quickly. About 5.5 miles in, you will see places where you can camp. Campsites are available up to 7 miles or so from the bridge crossing, right at the southern foot of Mount Eolus. Most people choose to camp after the hike in so they can get an early start – a wise thing in the summer, as afternoon storms are common here.

Easy hiking on the low part of the trail to Chicago Basin.

Impressive view of the Chicago Basin peaks from higher on the trail.

A great water source high on the trail to Chicago Basin. Several campsites are close by. This is about seven miles from the trailhead.

From there, follow a good trail along the river, then a series of switchbacks up the headwall – steep Class 1 and 2 hiking. It’s a real leg- and lung-buster, but nothing more. Higher up the headwall, you will cross rock slabs that are slippery when wet. This will lead you to a saddle between Mount Eolus (to your left) and North Eolus.

A view looking back at the route low on the headwall.

High on the headwall, looking up toward the saddle between Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

It’s about here when you’ll want to take a look at the skies and determine how the weather is going to hold out. Even though the climbing on North Eolus is straightforward, none of these peaks offer a fast retreat to treeline.

If it all looks good, you can proceed up North Eolus’ south ridge to the summit. At the saddle, turn right to gain North Eolus’ summit ridge. Even though North Eolus shares the same ridgeline as its taller neighbor, the rock couldn’t feel more different. Rather than a series of blocky ledges like you see on Mount Eolus, North Eolus is more a more slabby experience and not as steep. A Class 3 scramble on grippy, solid rock awaits, giving you quick access to the summit. There are no route-finding issues here, and much of the pitch is walkable. The two most difficult spots on the route are at the very beginning – an awkward scramble move to gain the ridge, and just short of the summit where the route steepens a tad. While there is a good amount of exposure to your left, it’s avoidable – certainly nothing like the airy ridge-direct route on Eolus.

Looking up at the route on North Eolus, with a mountain goat looking down. The route scrambes over this craggy spot, then follows the ridgeline up.

From above, looking down on hikers beginning to ascend North Eolus’ south ridge.

A climber nearing the summit of North Eolus.

Looking up at North Eolus’ summit.

The reward is the magnificent view of Mount Eolus, in addition to Sunlight Peak and Windom Peak on the other side of the Basin. Equally impressive are the Weminuche 13ers, including Pigeon Peak, Turret Peak, and further in the distance, Vestal Peak and Arrow Peak. The panorama of the Weminuche’s alpine wilderness from the North Eolus summit is not to be missed.

A magnificent view of the Weminuche Wilderness peaks.

From the campsite closest to the headwall, your elevation gain is about 3,000 feet. Route length is about 6 miles.

A couple things to note: Bring bug spray (the flies are relentless in the summer), and know that there is a sizable population of mountain goats that are accustomed to people and often hang out a camp and might follow you around.

Interested in reading the original Chicago Basin trip report? See it here.

Bob Doucette

Climbing Colorado’s Mount Eolus

Mount Eolus, as seen from neighboring North Eolus.

NOTE: Going through old trip reports, I’ve found a lot of them are long on storytelling and short on beta. So on occasion, I’m going to revisit a few peaks to give a more straightforward look at what it’s like to hike or climb these mountains.

The San Juan Mountains make up my favorite mountain range to date, mostly because of the variety of peaks you can find there, in addition to the sheer quantity. Inside the range is anything from simple, short walk-ups to highly technical – and spicy – climbs. Whatever mountain you choose is going to have a sense of wildness, as these mountains almost entirely exist within established wilderness areas.

One of these areas is the Weminuche Wilderness, some of the wildest and most remote country in the state of Colorado. Among the prime destinations in this wilderness are Chicago Basin and its numerous 13,000- and 14,000-foot peaks.

Four 14ers serve as the pinnacles of a crown of peaks surrounding the basin. On the east end are Sunlight Peak and Windom Peak. On the west, Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

Mount Eolus (14,083 feet) is the second-highest of the four and seen by most as the second-hardest. It’s definitely a worthy target, and is often climbed in tandem with North Eolus.

Getting to Chicago Basin is a bit of an obstacle itself. Like I said, it’s remote. It’s not like driving to a trailhead in the Front Range or the Sawatch. You basically have two choices: Hike in from Durango (that might take at least a couple of days) or get an open-air ticket on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Train, a tourist service that takes vacationers on a ride between the two towns and through the mountain scenery along the Animas River. Most people do the latter, a service provided by the train operator to backpackers. The train stops at a place called Needleton (there’s no town there, just a spot for the train to stop and let people off), and on the banks of the Animas River there is a pedestrian bridge that leads you to a trail. Your ticket price will include pickup and a return trip to Durango once your trip is over; be sure to book in advance.

The bridge at the Needleton stop, crossing the Animas River.

Easy hiking to start the trip to Chicago Basin. But it gets steeper and more difficult until you get the basin itself.

The hiking mellows as you get closer to the basin. Dispersed campsites appear up the trail from here.

Looking up at the flanks of Mount Eolus from camp.

From the bridge crossing, a good trail goes all the way to the Basin. It starts out flat, but soon you start gaining elevation quickly. About 5.5 miles in, you will see places where you can camp. Campsites are available up to 7 miles or so from the bridge crossing, right at the southern foot of Mount Eolus. Most people choose to camp after the hike in so they can get an early start – a wise thing in the summer, as afternoon storms are common here.

Looking back at the base of the headwall leading up to the upper portions of the route. From here, steeper switchbacks await.

From there, follow a good trail along the river, then a series of switchbacks up the headwall – steep Class 1 and 2 hiking. It’s a real leg- and lung-buster, but nothing more. Higher up the headwall, you will cross rock slabs that are slippery when wet. This will lead you to a saddle between Mount Eolus (to your left) and North Eolus.

Nearing the top of the headwall.

Getting closer to the saddle between Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

Almost to the saddle, with Mount Eolus seen in the background left.

Higher on the mountain.

It’s about here when you’ll want to take a good look at the skies and determine how the weather is going to hold out. The route from here will slow you down considerably, and if you’re caught on the connecting ridge or on Eolus’ summit pitch, there is no fast retreat.

The Catwalk. It looks spookier than it is. But there is relatively high exposure on either side of you as you traverse it.

Here you will face the first real obstacle climbing Mount Eolus – the Catwalk. Visually, it’s a slender ridge that is usually about 10-15 feet wide, but as narrow as five feet in some places. There is no alternative route to get to Eolus from the saddle – you either cross the Catwalk or forgo the summit entirely. The rock is solid, but it is exposed on both sides. Mostly, it’s a walk with an occasional scrambling move.

Once off the Catwalk, a couple of options are available. Most people follow a series of cairns up the ledges leading to the summit, just left of the ridgeline proper. There is some exposure, but it’s manageable. The main challenge here is route-finding: negotiating the blocky ledges to find your way to the top. The route is classified as a Class 3 scramble with high exposure.

Nearing the summit, taking the ridge direct. Most people ascend to the left of the ridge proper as seen here. That way is less exposed. If you take the ridge direct, be prepared for more committing moves and much higher exposure.

For a more direct climb, go up the northeast ridge proper. This is a more demanding way to finish the climb in terms of route-finding, climbing difficulty and managing exposure.  The ridge direct is Class 3-4 climbing, with spots of airy, no-fall zone exposure (large drop-offs to your right would likely end in death if you fell). You will be able to climb over or around several stone blocks; some require traverses that are pretty committing.

The final push to the top involves easier scrambling and a rest stop on the mountain’s small summit perch. From here, you’ll have sweeping views of North Eolus to the north, along with 13ers Pigeon and Turret peaks to the northwest. To the east, Sunlight Peak, Windom Peak and Sunlight Spire (among others) can be seen.

Either route you take, be sure to test handholds and footholds. But I found most of the rock fairly solid.

Summit view, looking at (from left) Sunlight Peak, Sunlight Spire and Windom Peak.

From the campsites closest to the headwall, your elevation gain is about 3,000 feet, with a round-trip route length of about 6 miles.

A couple things to note: Bring bug spray (the flies are relentless in the summer), and know that there is a sizable population of mountain goats that are accustomed to people and often hang out a camp and might follow you around.

Interested in reading the original full Chicago Basin trip report? See it here.

Bob Doucette

A quick photo tour of three great national parks: Black Canyon of the Gunnison, Great Smoky Mountains, and Rocky Mountain National Parks

Last week I took a break from the weekly “here’s how the virus has messed up our lives” beat, going instead with a short photo gallery of some of my favorite images from the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

I like that idea again for this week. This time, I want to go with a few national parks I happen to like a bunch. So here goes…

Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park

I’ve only been here once, but it was memorable. Situated in west-central Colorado, it emcompasses a deep gorge cut by the Gunnison River, one of the deepest canyons in the country.

The Gunnison River, with the steep walls of the Black Canyon rising high above.

Most of the park’s river-level campgrounds and trails are easy enough, but if you’re up for a scramble you can get some amazing vistas. And, if you’re so inclined, some good fishing.

You might catch fish here if you’re not too distracted by the scenery.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park

A couple visits to the Smokies of eastern Tennessee gave me a deep appreciation for the rugged, wooded beauty of this classic American landscape. I love how the elevation changes create such a wide variety of ecosystems. At one moment, you’re in a warm, humid broadleaf forest. Hike up a ways and it’s the sweet smell of pines, which always makes me think of the Rockies. But the Appalachians are not the Rockies — they’re their own thing, and it’s awesome.

A sweeping view of the Smokies.

Most views here are seen from outcrops and not from summits. Take time to stop for a few minutes to soak it in.

Thick woods and great trails on the Alum Cave Bluff Trail.

The trails can wind along for a ways, but each mile is filled with memorable scenes.

Alum Cave Bluff. Whoa.

Some rest stops offer scenes that exemplify the diverse and lush nature of the Appalachians, a mountain range said to be one of the greatest examples of biodiversity in the world.

Low clouds and fog give the appearance of smoke, which is how the Smokies got their name.

Drive through the park and several pullouts will give you incredible vistas.

Atop the observation tower on Clingman’s Dome, the highest peak in Tennessee.

Clingman’s Dome, Tennessee’s highest mountain, has an observation tower which gives you a rare summit view in the Smokies. It’s worth a look.

Rocky Mountain National Park

This is the national park I’ve visited the most, and each time I come away in awe. The Rockies are a grand range, and the park has some of the most amazing alpine scenes that can be found anywhere. From thick evergreen forests to rocky alpine landscapes, any view is a hard-earned treat. It’s worth the effort to hike this park’s trails, however high they take you.

Sunrise on the Longs Peak Trail.

There is nothing quite like watching the sun rise high in the Rockies, especially when you’re treated to a cloud inversion.

Longs Peak shrouded in clouds.

The star of the park is Longs Peak, the highest mountain in the park and one of the most dramatic and rugged pinnacles in the entire state. You can see the mountain from Denver, but it’s a whole different experience to see it up close.

The Keyhole on Longs Peak.

If you’re up for some work, climbing Longs Peak is a great way to see the mountain and challenge yourself in a whole new way.

Longs Peak looming over Chasm Lake.

Even if you don’t want to climb the mountain, the scenery around Longs Peak is worth taking in.

So there you go. I confess, I’m not one of those people who has been to a ton of national parks. But the ones I’ve been to are something to see.

Bob Doucette

A quick photo tour of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

Switching things up a bit. The last few weeks, I’ve been writing about how this coronavirus thing has affected my life and community. But you know, that’s all starting to run together.

On Twitter, I’ve been posting a “daily distraction photo” just to break up everyone’s feeds. The pics are all of amazing natural landscapes. So that’s what this post is going to be, a collection of pics from a great mountain range, the Sangre do Cristo Mountains.

The Sangres run north-to-south in southern Colorado and northern New Mexico. They’re rugged and high, featuring some of the more dramatic skylines in the U.S. and one state high point. So here ya go, some of my favorite pics from the Sangres…

The Crestones, southern Colorado.

Humboldt Peak doesn’t rank as one of the more majestic looking mountains in the Rockies. But bar none, it is the best place to view Crestone Peak and Crestone Needle. For that view alone, the hike to Humboldt’s summit is worth the effort.

Moody day near Crestone Peak.

A few years before that Humboldt hike, me and a buddy took a whack at Crestone Peak. No summit that day, but some gorgeous scenery.

Wildflowers near Cottonwood Lake, west of the Crestones.

Another view near the Crestones. Not seen: the ka-billion mosquitoes that nested here.

Alpenglow on Crestone Needle.

A classic Colorado scene: the first rays of the sun hitting Crestone Needle’s prettiest side.

Blanca Peak in the distance.

This meadow is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. Last summer, on an attempt on Mount Lindsey, I was greeted with this incredible vista, with Blanca Peak — the highest in the range — rising in the distance.

Horseshoe Lake, below the summit ridge of Wheeler Peak, N.M.

My first “big mountain” summit hike was Wheeler Peak in New Mexico, the state’s highest point. Just before you tackle the summit ridge, you get treated to this amazing alpine lake. Unforgettable.

There there you have it, a quick distraction from viral reality in the form of gorgeous mountain scenes. Hope you enjoyed the tour.

Bob Doucette

At the trailhead or on the starting line, the coronavirus may wreck your plans

Climbing Mount Everest has been canceled for the year because of COVID-19 concerns.

The news cycle tends to dominated these days by one thing: the novel coronavirus known as COVID-19.

It’s going to affect pretty much all areas of life for us here in the United States, and from what I can see, things are just starting to ramp up. And “all areas” include those things that we love to do the most: live adventurously.

As an example, China took the extraordinary step to close the north face of Mount Everest for the season. Not long after, Nepal announced plans to close the south side. Himalayan mountaineering there and on the other peaks is pretty much shut down now.

I can imagine that’s going to be a similar story in a lot of places outside the Himalayas. Given the severity of the outbreak in northern Italy, it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine a near-dead climbing season this spring and summer in the Alps. Certainly that will be the case in the Italian Alps, and as the disease progresses in neighboring countries, it may be a quiet year in European mountain towns for some time.

I don’t know what that means for us here in the States. For now, there haven’t been any restrictions on travel inside the country, but should we experience the level of outbreak seen in Italy, it could happen.

Local races can draw hundreds of competitors and thousands of spectators. Will these events still happen this year?

There’s something else, too. The same community that heads to the hills for adventure also tends to find itself on starting lines. From 5Ks to ultramarathons, and any number of cycling races, the spring usually brings on a ton of events that draw outdoor athletes from all over the place.

Close to my neck of the woods, we’ve got a local half marathon and full marathon coming up next month. In late April, the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon – a big event by most standards – is on deck. In my city, Tulsa, we’ve got an IRONMAN triathlon set for late May, and the annual three-day Tulsa Tough cycling race series in early June. All of these events draw anywhere from several hundred to several thousand people, be they competitors or spectators.

Will they still happen? It’s difficult to say, but the NBA just suspended its season indefinitely after two of its players came down with COVID-19. College and pro leagues initially looked at playing games with no fans as a way to salvage television revenues and not endanger the public, then came back and canceled events and postponed seasons. Some of the same conditions that are giving these organizations pause exist in running and cycling events, especially the big ones. Will there be a Boston Marathon this year? A summer Olympics? Should there be?

And what about us? Should we be out doing the adventure thing? Should we be racing? Some of that is personal, for sure. Foremost on our minds ought to be one group of people: those most likely to suffer the worst effects of the disease. You never know who might give it to you. And then, who you might bring it to. At this point, I’m playing it by ear. I want some mountain time, but no summit is worth someone else’s health.

One last thing: Don’t underestimate the financial impact all this mess is going to have on the businesses you know and love. People whose shops depend on adventure tourism and sports are going to be hurting. I’ve got friends who are race directors, and know a bunch of people in different outdoor industry circles. Their experiences are going to be a lot like those who count on fans showing up to regular sporting events. If you think canceling a race is no big deal, think about how many businesses in Austin lost out when South by Southwest got canned. It’s no different for businesses (hotels, restaurants, bars and gear shops, to name a few) that are connected to big city races, as well as all those mountain town enterprises that make or break their year by how well the high summer season goes.

Looking for advice from me? I don’t have much. Take care of the things you can control for you and those around you. And when the time comes, be there to support those who are going to take a hit from this outbreak. Aside from that, buckle up. It could be a bumpy ride.

Bob Doucette