TURAS GIRLS

Blame it all on my roots…or possibly just geography, but growing up in Colorado lit the fire for my love of hiking.

I’ve never had a goal of summiting all 58 of Colorado’s 14ers, but over the years I’ve managed to knock out a handful. Some more than once.

In college, I spent a summer living and working at the YMCA in Estes Park. Much of my free time was spent trail running or hiking, and that was the summer I climbed my first 14er: Longs Peak.

And Longs isn’t exactly easing yourself into the world of 14ers. To this day, it’s the hardest non-technical 14er I’ve done. 

Over the years, I’ve added a smattering of others to the list: Mt. Elbert, Mt. Evans, Grays Peak, Mt. Sherman…and Longs Peak again, because apparently once wasn’t enough.

Fourteeners tend to have a few things in common: they’re long, they require painfully early wake-up calls because afternoon lightning is no joke, and somewhere above 12,000 feet your lungs start questioning every life choice that brought you there.

The air gets thin.

Your legs get heavy.

And somehow the summit still makes you forget all of it.

There’s just something about standing at 14,000 feet, looking out over mountains that seem to go on forever, that makes the entire climb worth it.

Stef, on the other hand, hadn’t had the pleasure of suffering through many 14ers. The one she had climbed was Mt. Evans—which is technically a 14er, but loses a little of its mountaineering street cred when someone can drive their minivan to the summit.

So it was time.

We love camping near Buena Vista, Colorado, and we wanted to find a 14er that we thought Riley could safely tackle with us.

Mt. Belford fit the bill.

So in August 2025, we loaded up the camper and spent a long weekend at Collegiate Peaks Campground.

Friday morning came painfully early.

We got up in the dark, drove to the trailhead, strapped on our packs and started climbing.

Mt. Belford is roughly nine miles round trip, and the hike begins innocently enough in the trees. For a while, everything feels very Colorado: pine forest, cool morning air, a nice trail.

Then you hit tree line. And the mountain reveals its plan.

Switchbacks. Hundreds of them.

Up and up and up until you reach what looks suspiciously like the top. It is not the top. Because every good mountain apparently needs a false summit just to mess with you.

After that comes a short walk across a saddle, a little scrambling through the rocks and, finally…

14,202 feet.

The summit of Mt. Belford.

And it was spectacular.

Standing on top of a mountain like that always puts things into perspective. The world suddenly feels enormous. Peaks stretch in every direction, seemingly forever.

And Riley…she was an absolute machine.

Other hikers would stop and try to say hello to her. She had no time for such nonsense. She was on a mission. She marched past everyone with complete focus, usually staying at least one switchback ahead of us.

Every once in a while she’d stop and look back. We briefly liked to believe she was checking to make sure we were okay. She was not. She wanted a treat. Treat received, she immediately turned around and continued climbing.

She summited Mt. Belford like she had been training for it her entire life.

Coming back down, she had almost the same enthusiasm—although the pace slowed a little as the miles added up.

And once we made it back to camp?

She was done.

Completely.

Finished.

We gave Riley an easier assignment the next day and took her on a short hike to a lake where she could swim—her actual favorite outdoor activity.

The rest of the weekend was much more civilized. We played games around camp, wandered Buena Vista, ate good food, found good drinks and let our legs recover from several thousand feet of climbing.

Exactly how a long weekend in Colorado should end.

Mt. Belford checked all the boxes: a beautiful climb, a legitimate summit for Stef, Riley’s first 14er, incredible views and just enough suffering to make the post-hike food and drinks taste even better.

A great mountain.

A great weekend.

And one very tired dog.

August 2025