Week 3: Electrical Seduction

As black as the skies appeared, perhaps it wasn’t such a wise move to attempt 14,060-foot Mt. Bierstadt so late in the morning. Afternoon thunderstorms are fairly predictable this time of year in Colorado, but today’s storm was developing significantly ahead of schedule. I reassured myself that it was a straightforward climb and that, being so close to Denver, I would have plenty of company along the way. So with a marmot-chewed hiking pole in the grip of one hand and a stout spruce branch held in the other, I launched myself up the mountain, hoping I could reach the summit before conditions grew too dangerous to continue.

The bulk of the traffic was descending rather than climbing, and it didn’t take long before thunder began contributing a baritone chorus of discouragement. Darkness intensified behind Mt. Bierstdt, and a few prudent souls reversed direction and retreated downhill. I surged ahead as fast as I could until, out-of-breath and physically spent, I won access to the rocky summit, where I could stare into the heart of the storm.

A black cloud mass hung over the neighboring Fourteener, Mt. Evans, and its dark tendrils had nearly enveloped the skies overhead. My intention to traverse the jagged Sawtooth Ridge and reach Mt. Evans was now out of the question. A 53-year old man had died while attempting that crossing just two weeks ago.

Behind me, I overheard, “We need to go, now.” and I noticed that my fellow occupiers of the summit were making haste to leave. The reason: everyone’s hair was standing up like the Bride of Frankenstein. I’d seen this effect before; the static charges along the summit ridge were a likely precursor to a lightning strike. The upwelling of electricity was going to be released soon, and it would be a bit stupid to be standing here when it happened.

But then a strange noise caught my ear, and I moved away from the panicked group to listen better. The very air seemed to be buzzing… and my eyes grew wide as I realized what it was. Everything was audibly crackling with static electricity – my hiking poles, my backpack, and especially the space between my shoes and the mountain. The longer I stood in one place, the louder the crackling sound grew. I needed to move.