Jerry Funk - 14er Fan Club

Copyright 2010 by Jerry Funk

All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher. No patent liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

Print ISBN 0-7414-6023-8
eBook ISBN 0-7414-9065-X

INFINITY PUBLISHING
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West Conshohocken, PA 19428-2713
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To my loving wife, Gayle, whose constant support allowed me to pursue my love of these mountains, and to my 14er Fan Club who never gave up on me.

In loving memory of my mother, Leona Funk, who never understood my need to climb these magnificent creations.

Id like to give special thanks to Christi Bejadhar and Bonnie Hansen. At one point in the writing of this book, I was ready to be satisfied that I had written it, and forget about getting it published. Christie talked me through the hard times and convinced me to continue to pursue this endeavor.

My good friend, Bonnie, took this book and me by the ears, and made this project fun again. She felt my passion for these mountains, and my desire to release this passion to my readers. As proofreader, editor, and encourager, her literary expertise enabled me to gain confidence and enjoy writing again. Thanks so very much.

My Dear 14er Fan Club:

Where did you come from? How did this club originate? Sometime near my climbing of Mount Elbert in June of 2003, I started to send one-sentence to one-paragraph emails to my brothers and sisters and a few close friends to describe my treks. You would send encouraging replies. All those emails simply disappeared forever after I pushed the send button.

After revisiting Pikes Peak, I sent a two-page email on all my accomplishments to twelve of you special people. This was the first journal entry that I saved. My wife claimed that I was bragging, but almost every one of you replied with an encouraging note. I started to enlarge the 14er Fan Club to include almost everyone on my email list. People at work and people on my mail route started receiving copies, some of them sending me notes that made me blush. Others said I was their hero. One guy said he lived vicariously through my journeys. My sister Rose gave me a 14er t-shirt. Bob Manhart gave me pictures, climbing books, and a map of all the 14ers. As I climbed each mountain, I would insert a colored stickpin into the corresponding mountain on the map. Bill Hubbard, who lives on my mail route, knew when I was climbing and always watched for my safe return. Linda Fullen from an elementary school on my route always had a soft encouraging smile, and wanted to know each mountain report. My high school friend Dan Wollmering, who lives down under in Australia, kept tabs on me. Youll have to read the book to find out how a simple comment from Helen Frenette had a huge impact on my future climbing.

Some of you actually thought I knew what I was doing while climbing these mountains. You learned as I learned. Most well known 14er authorities will tell you that there are fifty-four 14ers that need to be climbed in Colorado; I claim that the final mandatory number is fifty-five. You accepted this bit of new information and encouraged me to climb all fifty-five.

Some of you answered every-single email. The Fan Club grew to over 100 members. I started receiving responses from Australia, Germany, Minnesota, Kansas, Missouri, Ohio, Texas, California, New York, Georgia and Colorado. When I was down, you picked me up. When I was up, you made me want to climb even more. Time after time some of you told me to write a book. Each person who reads this book may claim an immediate lifetime membership into the 14er Fan Club. Hmmmm, should we shoot for a million members? Spread the word!

14er Fan Club, I will never be able to express in words what each one of you means to me. This book is for you.

Thank YouJerry Funk

My Dear 14er Fan ClubAre you ready for sommmeeee

Back in 1998, I literally stumbled into the craziness of climbing 14,000-foot mountains by hiking up Pikes Peak, just because it was in my back yard. I can be snoozing in my master bedroom at home, peek open one eye, and view this gorgeous mountain majesty looking back at me. When we first moved to Colorado Springs, one of my wifes requirements was that our home would not be hidden in a forest of evergreen trees, but rather it had to provide a view of the mountains, a view of Pikes Peak. Gayle and I had moved to Colorado in 1994. We loved Colorado. We had been living in Texas for over twelve years, having met and married there. Colorado was our ski resort. As often as possible, we would gather friends and family, rent a condo, and swish down the mountain slopes. We werent great skiers, but at least one black slope had to be conquered each year. The mountains and skiing drew us to Colorado.

I had driven up Pikes Peak a few times, but it never dawned on me that people would walk up such a thing. In fact, prior to living in Colorado Springs, I never contemplated hiking any trail through the mountains. I hadnt even considered the idea that there was a path, or rather thousands of paths, winding throughout the Rocky Mountains.

I wasnt a walker or a runner and my experience with depth exposure and mountain heights centered more on fear than enjoyment. My main hiking experiences had occurred in Minnesota when I was 10 years old. My two best buds and I would carve wooden spears from tree limbs and then chase after imaginary Indians, bear, or the nearest farmers cows. Wed venture about a mile from home and consider this a major camping expedition. We would build a fire and roast our summer sausage staked on our wooden spears. In our imaginations, we boasted that no bear or cows had better come near us or we would be eating steak instead of summer sausage. On one such hike, my friend threw his spear at me as my back was turned toward him. The spear arched over my head and cut through my shoe, piercing a nerve in my big toe. Boinggg!! There was the spear standing straight up, anchored to the ground through my shoe and foot. I was supposed to be the head altar boy two hours later, carrying the golden cross to lead all the parishioners through the neighborhood for the Corpus Christi festival celebration. Instead, with one arm wrapped around each friend, I had to be helped back to town. My hiking days were over!

My running days took place during high school. In the fall, I would participate in cross-country to get in shape for track in the spring. Although not a super hero, I was fast enough to run in the state track meet my senior year. I ran a 440 in the mile relay. While I loved the bursts of speed in track, running two to three miles in cross-country was pure torture. Those races usually took place on golf courses. I loved the freshly mowed grass and the many beautiful golf course views, but quite frankly there were better things for me to do than to pretend that I was a long-distance runner. My running days were over!!