The Red Bandana Man

“Just make sure you are having fun . . . you are having fun, right?” - man to us when we were NOT having fun

Mount Sneffels. Sounds like a wimpy, pathetic mountain with a runny nose. But with its spiny, jagged ridges, steep couloirs, and an altitude of 14,155 feet, this mountain is no wimp. In fact, it is more of a bully.

We should know. We have been on it three times. The first time, two years ago, we knew nothing. We set out with our brand new snowshoes and slogged our way up the trail on the north side. We didn’t even come close. The next year we tried from the other side, taking the standard route up the infamous Lavender Couloir. A more appropriate name might be the “Hateful Couloir” or at best the “Annoying Couloir." We were close that time, but we were intimidated by the steep snow gully near the summit and we turned around.

The "Hateful Couloir." A "couloir" (cool-WAHR) is a steep gouge that runs down the side of a mountain. This particular couloir is infamous for steepness and loose rock.

This year we tempered our expectations with reality. This mountain was tough. And scary. We probably wouldn’t make it. So we unanimously decided to take the route on the southwest ridge. The difficult route. The one with all the spiky pinnacles. The route that makes your heart beat faster when you look at it. Our reasoning was that if we were not going to make the summit, we could at least enjoy some fun scrambling and still enjoy the views from the ridge. But of course in the back of everyone’s mind was the thought, Maybe we can do it. Maybe we will make it.

Believe it or not, there is a route that weaves along the top of this impressive ridge.

And so we set out on the most beautiful day anyone could ask for. We started out slow, our eyes drinking in the riot of wildflowers, the many waterfalls, and the towering peaks that surrounded us. We made our way up to the pass that marked the beginning of the ridge. Here we stopped for a snack, and while we were munching a man passed us. He was older and wore a white t-shirt and a red bandana tucked under his hat to keep the sun off his neck. He carried almost nothing. The man greeted us cheerily and bounded off up the ridge. As we watched, he approached a steep snow patch and grabbed a sharp rock. This he used as a belay as he crossed the slippery section. Cool! we thought. This guy knows what he is doing!

Wildflowers in the Yankee Boy Basin can be incredible!

We finished our snack and started up the ridge, although we belayed with our ice axes instead of with rocks. We were scrambling along at a good pace, enjoying the climb, when we came to a gully of snow. The gully dropped to our right all the way to the bottom of the mountain. To our left was a jumble of sheer rock walls. Ahead of us, the rock jutted out into the gully. Our only option was to traverse the snow, climb over the jutting rock, and climb back up the snow to the next section of rock.

Starting up the ridge. Loose rock ("talus") is the hallmark of the San Juan Mountains

The "Chute of Terror"

I came to the front. Because I am the weakest link as far as climbing and balancing goes, when we come to a sketchy section I will usually go first. We figure if I can do it, then everyone else can too!

As I surveyed the terrain in front of us, my heart began to race and my palms began to sweat. I swallowed hard. I don’t like traversing steep snow. Too many things could go wrong. But I didn’t want to quit just yet. I started forward and stepped into the gully, jamming my ice axe into the snow on my left and trying not to look at the chute of terror on my right. My head swam and my legs felt wobbly. I was breathing fast – too fast – and realized I was beginning to panic. So I turned and stepped onto the safety of solid rock to gather myself.

“This is too much. We need to turn around,” Paul said.

I saw the disappointment on his face. On everyone’s face. I looked again at the way before us. I looked back toward the way we had come. I considered the security of turning back, getting home early, and enjoying a hot shower. This was too much. We had done enough. We could turn around now and be comfortable and safe.

By now, though, I had calmed down, and I also began to consider how I would feel if we turned back. We would be defeated by this mountain – again. We would be comfortable, yes, but we would be sad. We would miss the thrill of standing on the summit. I looked at the snow and imagined myself walking across the gully. I told myself to be brave. But my heart still quelled within me.

Then we noticed, way up on the other side of the problem, the red-bandana man making his way down the mountain.

“Hey! Let’s wait for him and watch how he comes across!” someone said.

So we did. We watched the nimble man maneuver through the snow and rocks all the way to where we stood. We told him we were not sure how to proceed.

“You just kick in, like this,” he said as he marched up the snow like it was nothing. “This is good snow! Besides, you have ice axes. You all know how to self-arrest, right?”

We did. We had the equipment and we knew how to do this.

“Just make sure you are having fun!” The man stopped and looked at each of us. “You are having fun, right?”

We weren’t, really. We were scared – well, I was – and we were miserable about our choices. But suddenly it all seemed okay. Suddenly I realized that we could do this and that we could relax and enjoy the climb. We just needed the encouragement of someone who had been here before. We needed to see someone else handle it.

We thanked the man for his help. As he turned to leave, I again stepped out onto the snow. It took all of us, working together, to get across the first part of the gully, over the sheer rocks, back up the gully, and through a precarious notch of rock. After a lot of shouting, some crying, and a few desperate prayers, we all made it through the crux.

There was no more talk now of turning around. With new-found confidence, we continued to navigate over and through and around the rocks and snow. We began to truly enjoy the climb in spite of the dangers and in spite of the toll it took on our bodies and our minds. And all the while in the back of our minds was the thought – the summit is soon! We are going to make the summit!

Almost there!

The views get better as you get higher . . .

. . . and higher!

We did finally arrive at the top, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. It was worth the difficulties we endured to get here. We thanked God for safety, and for the red-bandana man’s advice, and we prayed for wisdom and help on the descent.

As we made our way down, I began to think about my own Christian walk – or climb, if you will – and about the journey of believers around me.

Being a follower of Jesus is rarely easy. Like our climb on Mount Sneffels, the Christian life is full of peril: sorrow, illness, temptation, discouragement, injustice – we face things every day that test our ability to endure. We can’t understand how a God Who loves us would allow our hearts to ache so deeply. We struggle with physical weakness when we want so badly to serve Him. We wrestle with temptations that would make life easier – more comfortable. We become angry at the betrayal of those we love – even of other believers. If we look at the way before us without seeing the end goal, it just looks too hard sometimes. We may even consider turning back.

But there is One Who has gone before us. He has been there – experiencing the heartache, the physical pain, the temptation, the betrayal. He has wrestled with obeying God’s will. He has even questioned the pain God allowed. And He has shown us how to react. He has shown us how to traverse all of these things safely. Even as He holds us securely in His hand He tells us not to turn back – not even to look back.     

We as believers must encourage each other as we press on toward the “summit” – the day when we will see Jesus face-to-face. We must be like the “red bandana man”: recognizing when a brother or sister is faltering, showing each other by example how to handle hardship, and instructing one another through the Bible what to do when the way looks impossible.

Then, through Christ’s blood, we will stand before God, breathless and grinning from ear to ear as He says, “Well done.”

Are you a “red bandana man” – or woman? Are you carrying too much on your Christian journey? Are you using the tools and skills given to you in God’s Word to handle life’s problems? Are you keeping your eyes on the “summit”? Are you leading and encouraging other believers to stay faithful, to keep pressing forward, and to navigate difficulties in a way that would bring glory to God?

Consider the following Scriptures as you “climb” this week and as you interact with the body of Christ: Hebrews 4:15-16; Hebrews 6; Isaiah 53; Matthew 4:1-11; Luke 22:39-44, 47-48; Matthew 27:46; John 10:27-30; Luke 9:23-26, 57-62; Colossians 3:16-17; 1 Thessalonians 5:11, 23-24; Matthew 25:14-30

Click here for another perspective on this climb.

Snow on the summit in June

Looking up at the "V-notch" on the descent

Keep climbing!

Mt. Sneffels--defeated!

© 2025 by Anchor & Fish Ministries. All rights reserved.

Photos by Paul and Jenny Venturo