I have a very sad story to tell. For a million years or more I was a perfect teakettle. In fact, that’s why I was named “Teakettle Mountain”. I had a nice handle, a slender kettle pot, and a spout that made me proud. My spout was shaped in the greatest British tradition of teakettles–it projected straight out and then made the famous right-angled teakettle spout turn upward. Yes, I was perfect. But then, in the winter of 1998-1999 my spout disappeared; I guess my spout simply fell off! I’ve felt horribly deformed ever since that tragic winter event, even though my handle and kettle are still intact and show nice lines and form.
With My Spout!
But worse than losing my spout, I wonder what Coffeepot (elevation 13,568 feet) thinks of me now that I no longer have my spout. She lives a little more than 1/3 mile down the jagged ridge from me. She’s beautiful. You can see her near the right end of the photo. I’ve been in love with her for over a million years, and I’m certain that she’s loved me, too. But we can’t talk because we are stone dumb. Even if we could converse, the strong winds along our connecting ridge would make it difficult for us to hear one another. But as I said, I’m certain that my gorgeous Coffeepot loves me, too. She has the shape of a coffee carafe, as a coffeepot ought to. Unfortunately, with my spout gone, I have a bit of that shape too, and I need to be poured from the top now–but everyone knows that a teakettle should be poured through a spout that begins near the bottom of the kettle. So now with the significant loss of my spout, I hope and hope that Coffeepot still finds me attractive and appealing. The uncertainty is tough to deal with, but I manage, day after day, and I try to keep a positive attitude.
What Happened to my Spout?!
My life as a mountain is pretty lonely. Very occasionally some climbers come and use ropes to clamber about my vertical kettle and they get on top and shout for joy. I guess they appreciate me even without my spout. I hear them indicate that I’m one of only three of the highest 100 peaks in Colorado that require technical climbing to reach the top by the easiest route. I’m 13,819 feet tall, and my kettle is pretty darned steep. And then, after they’ve stuck metallic things into my cracks in order to “protect” themselves as they climb to my summit, they descend a little and offend me my standing in my handle while assuming all sorts of hilarious poses for the cameras. That disrespect they show is hardly fair to me.
Well, recently one of these climbers did something else that I don’t understand. He left what’s called a “geocache” on me. It feels like a small cylinder, and it’s tucked in a nook under one of my rocks. This geocache thing has some paper in it that I heard referred to as a “log”. Now that’s a quandary, isn’t it, because logs are fallen trees, and I’m far above any trees at my remarkable location. So how can a log be crammed into that little vial? It’s a mystery to me. I suspect that very few people will ever find the geocache on me, because getting to my kettle is a very serious undertaking. I get a bit confused, because I hear climbers say that I’m “Lower Class 5" as a technical climb, while that guy who put this geocache thingy on me told another climber that I’m a 5-star Terrain cache. So I’m “5" no matter if I’m being climbed or if I’m being found. I wonder what Coffeepot would think about all this...
Here's a link to some great pics of me, and other information that might be helpful. Enjoy the photos! ~Teakettle~
Well, if you come up here to climb me or to find my special cache, be certain to have emergency gear and extra clothing, food, and water. I’m famous for lightning storms, so be certain to come early in the day.
NOTE: reaching the cache does NOT require technical, protected rope climbing. The cache is located just before the final summit pitch that is normally ascended with a rope