Peaks: Mt. Harvard (14,424') and Mt. Columbia (14,075') via standard traverse (low)

Round-trip time (car-to-car): 17.5 hours

Distance: 15+ miles

Elevation Gain: 6,100'

Date climbed: Saturday, July 13, 2024

Crew: solo

Shoes: nope

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This morning we awoke to our elderly dog needing to be taken out. "I got it," I told my wife. I placed my feet on the floor. As I attempted to stand, I couldn't hold back a drawn out groan as a surge of pain came up from my tender feet, and I was reminded of yesterday's adventure.

Why barefoot?

Having climbed the 14ers a couple times from different routes, I've been on the hunt to spice things up, without pushing the danger limit too high. In his book "Warrior's Creed," Roger Sparks tells about the Vietnamese soldiers confiscating American hostages' boots to prevent escape, because the Americans had tender feet. For some reason, this struck me. Then, I came across a guy hiking a local Boulder trail barefoot. I thought that was crazy, but also a new challenge!

When asked this question today, I tell folks it feels good. What I mean is, I enjoy placing my feet carefully in just the right position to fit the terrain, every step of the way. Allowing your toes to wrap over a larger rock or using the natural grip on the soles of your feet to climb up feels amazing, like a child playing on a playground. I personally also enjoy the focus required. The moment you look away and take a step is the moment you are reminded that was a bad idea. After walking on rocks for hours, fluffy dirt sections and cold mountain streams feel like heaven.

Quick history

In 2021 I started conditioning my feet, starting by walking on crusher fine paths, then walking on wood chips at the playground. I felt proud to hike Mt. Sanitas barefoot in May that year, then in June I doubled that distance on Green Mountain. I was limping by the end of Green Mountain, and it was on this hike that I learned that the descent can take longer than the ascent. This is due to a couple factors: your feet are already worn down a little from the ascent, and you must be careful stepping downhill. You don't want to land hard on a sharp rock, so you will find yourself using your quads to lower yourself softly on bigger steps.

Despite the pain from stepping on sharp rocks and accidentally stubbing my pinky toes on big embedded rocks, after Green Mountain I couldn't help but wonder, "Maybe I could do a 14er barefoot!"

In July 2021 I was able to summit Mt. Elbert (tallest 14er) barefoot with the support of a good friend, Simon, who joined me for sections of the hike barefoot himself, though he hadn't pre-conditioned his feet. This route was 4,100' elevation and 10.5 miles. Ouch. At the end of the hike, I thought, "Never again."

When 2023 came, and I was hungry for another barefoot 14er. So I went for Massive solo (2nd tallest 14er - I guess this is now the pattern). This one hurt, probably because I didn't condition as much as I should have. It took 10 hours to travel only 7.5 miles with 3,950' gain. The rocks seemed sharper on this route than I remembered on Elbert. If I was ever to do another barefoot 14er, I would need my feet to be tougher.

Harvard (and extra credit)

Going into this year (2024), I was determined to go for Harvard (3rd tallest 14er). But this one was longer - 14 miles round trip and 4,500' elevation gain. This made me nervous, and I wasn't going to show up unprepared.

With Harvard as the carrot, I hiked Mt. Sanitas barefoot (2.6 miles RT, 1300' gain) about once a week starting this past February until this trip. About a month ago, I did 4 laps of the Mt. Sanitas trail (the stairmaster route) up and down consecutively. I also did Bear Peak, South Boulder Peak, and Green Mountain for longer barefoot training hikes. I finally felt like Harvard just might be a possibility.

This past week I decided Saturday would be the day. I printed off key photos of the route and put waypoints into my GPS (hey, I like my old-school setup). While looking at the route to Harvard, a nagging voice in my head suggested that I print off photos of the traverse to Columbia too... just in case. I mean, I would be STOKED just to bag Harvard barefoot. But anything on top of that would be some exquisite extra credit!

Friday night I drove to the trailhead and crawled in the back seat of my 4Runner for a good night's sleep. I set the alarm for a late time of 4:00am, thinking my tolerance would be better with a little more sleep.

At 2:30am I was awakened by a couple eager hikers. My mind said, "Harvard and Columbia are waiting for you." I threw off my sleeping bag, shouldered my pack (see list below), and started on the trail at 2:45am.

Items of note in my pack: 5 liters of water, emergency bivy in case I couldn't finish the route in one day, basic medical supplies in case of a major cut or injury, other essentials, shoes and socks.

I made quick work of the 3.5 miles to the camping area and trail crossing for Columbia. Every now and then my pinky toe would kick a camouflaged root fragment, which reminded me to pay attention.

To my surprise, there was a headlamp watching me on the trail just ahead, and as I approached the guy said, "Hey! You wouldn't happen to have any extra toilet paper, would you?" This made me laugh. I said, "I got you." Fortunately I had replenished my supply to a full roll before this trip, so I gave him hopefully more than he needed.

As the sun came up, I was deep in Horn Fork Basin, about ready to start the steeper ascent to Harvard.

Two guys caught up to me. Turns out it was the toilet paper guy and his friend (Matt and Ryan, resp.). Apparently they both thought the other guy was in charge of bringing the t.p. May this be a lesson: always cover your own ass.

They asked if I intended to head over to Columbia after Harvard, and by now I was convinced it was possible. My feet were in great shape, and sometimes I even forgot I was barefoot.

Matt and Ryan got ahead of me and a few minutes later I came across this note in the ground near a side trail junction. I bet they accidentally took the side trail and had to backtrack. I was honored that Ryan took his time to help me avoid that mistake.

I caught up to them having a snack at the start of the summit ridge, just after the steep hike up to it. We hiked along the ridge and got to a sketchy snowy section and slabby rock leading upward. My initial instinct was to look for another way up, but Matt popped his way up and Ryan was right behind him. I wasn't so sure about this move, because the snow was like a hard wall, and there weren't many inspiring hand holds. It required a few steps on the snow around a corner, to a little ledge. With shoes I might have been able to kick steps but that would have taken some work. This stuff was almost the density of ice, and I would have loved to have had shoes for grip. So, I went up it anyway, all the while feeling like this was totally stupid. Whenever you get this feeling, listen to your instincts and just look around. After I did the move and made it to safe ground, I looked down below and saw a clear path up from the right side. Okay, I thought, no more bad decisions.

Trying to catch up to Matt and Ryan who were a little further on the ridge, I popped up to a high point and noticed a couple other climbers just chilling there. I asked if they were on their way up or down, and they said they just got there. That didn't make sense in the moment, so I wished them well and kept moving along the ridge. About 30 seconds later I caught up to Ryan. He stopped, looked back at the high point we were just on, and called forward to Matt, "Hey Matt, that was the summit!" Matt paused, and we all laughed. "Well," Ryan said, "I'll just get my summit photo on Columbia then." I snapped a quick shot of my feet, eager to go for the extra credit.

Tacking on Columbia adds 1,500 extra feet of elevation gain and only 1 mile. Cake, right? But, the talus and terrain on the traverse is more tedious, and in my case, much more extra work. No small "feat."

Eventually, Matt and Ryan moved at a stronger pace and I was starting to finally feel tender. They wished me well and continued on.

Shortly after that, the two climbers from the top of Harvard caught up to me, also super nice and strong guys. Their names were Justin and Matt. We talked about epic 14er and 13er adventures, and I enjoyed the conversation - it took my mind off the aching I was starting to feel. Then, soon enough, they were off faster than I could go.

On my way down the long ridge before the entrance to the talus fields, I met another pair of hikers coming from the opposite direction. I greeted them and one guy said, "I heard about you." That made me laugh. Everyone is encouraging and positive when they see you hiking barefoot (at least, to your face, haha).

Although I was alone most of the day, there were a lot of spiders on the rocks to keep me company.

After hiking down the ridge to the turning point into the talus basin, I looked up at a daunting view. This was going to take a LONG time to navigate without shoes.

With a deep breath, I started the journey into the talus field. Since much of the talus in this area is on a slope, the rock can break loose, potentially causing a couple problems:

1) The rock can fall and crush your hands or feet (definitely a concern of mine) and

2) Your hold can give way if you have a majority of your weight on it, causing you to fall.

I was not going to make any more stupid decisions (why are some of you rolling your eyes?). So, I felt safest crawling on any talus that was on a slope. Leaning into the slope, I put all four limbs on seemingly secure rocks and kept my body ready to move. If one rock wiggled, I could quickly shift my weight onto the other three holds and avoid falling, or move my foot out of the way. This was part of the reason the traverse took 6 total hours from Harvard to Columbia. Having come out of it all unscathed (spoilers), I believe this method was the safest way to navigate this particular terrain.

There were also several snowfields to navigate.

I crossed the first snow field where others had crossed, which would require probably 50 steps total. After about 15-20 steps, my tender feet felt overwhelmingly cold, so I decided to bail and glissade a little way down to the talus and find a better way. For the remaining snowfields, I either found a flat section with a narrow chokepoint of snow, or circumnavigated the snow altogether. This took time, but again it kept me safe.

In retrospect, I do wish I had made an even bigger effort to completely avoid snow, because it is possible to posthole through and cut your foot on sharp rocks underneath. I've seen nasty photos of this happening, and I got lucky this day.

After a few hours on the talus, I finally made it up to the grassy slope below the final summit push to Columbia. Being solo, I didn't have my face and feet in the same photo up until this point, so I decided to fix that with a somewhat ridiculous pose.

The clouds were collecting up above, and with a light sprinkle of graupel, I had to make the call to wait it out or go for it. The route beyond the summit would keep me on a ridge for probably 20 more minutes, and being on a summit or ridge is the last place you want to be in a lightning storm. But, the weather seemed to be holding, so I decided to head up with the possibility of backtracking to lower ground if the weather deteriorated.

At 2:00pm, I found myself on the summit of Columbia. I don't think this quite captures the feeling, but... YESSSS!!!!

I heard thunder in the distance, so I decided not to take time to enjoy the summit.

Now for the hardest part of the day - the descent off Columbia. My feet were getting raw, and I was not looking forward to the loose scree and dirt slope. Below is a video of part of the descent on this slope. Bear in mind this is after about 10 hours of hiking without shoes.

I was pleasantly surprised when I reached bigger rock steps about 1/3 of the way down the slope. This was a welcome relief to the crap I had just endured. Thank you, CFI!

When hiking barefoot, you get pretty good at finding the least-painful place to step to preserve your feet. That was the name of the game today, and it paid off.

The remaining hike down the slope and out of the basin provided plenty of mixed terrain to keep it interesting:

I wrapped up at 8:13pm, and eagerly put on my flip flops, which felt like walking on a cloud. I thank God for allowing everything to come together as it did and granting me this safe and successful day in His mountains!

Tips for hiking barefoot

Walk softly. Place your foot ball then heel. Landing your heel on a sharp rock with all your bodyweight will teach you this lesson the hard way.

Watch every step and plan where you want to place your foot every time. You'll get the hang of it.

Be ready to shift your weight slightly to adjust for unseen rocks.

You're going to kick a rock or root here and there. It's going to hurt, but it'll be okay.

Carry your shoes, socks, and medical gear in case of a major slice or other damage. Just in case.

Plan to descend slower than you ascended. Take this into account when looking at the weather forecast and planning when to be down off the summit and ridgelines.

Train, train, train. It pays off big time. It's motivating when you start feeling your soles gain toughness.

Enjoy! It's a new way to experience the journey.

Thanks for reading!

-Brad Randolph