Hi, and welcome! We're about 140 gay men, lesbians and friends who like to get outside: day hikes, fourteeners, backpacking, rock climbing, desert camping, and in the winter, snowshoeing and the occasional very cold hut trip. There's only one requirement for membership. You have to like dirt.

I'm Natalie Cooper, and since August I've been the club's trips coordinator, which mostly means I keep the schedule, recruit trip leaders and answer the e-mail. I'm 22. I grew up in a small town in Kansas, where the tallest thing for miles was the grain elevator, and I graduated from college there in May. In June I loaded my car and drove west to Denver, where I knew exactly nobody, and got a job at an outdoor gear store fitting hiking boots. The first weekend, one of my customers told me about this club. The second weekend, I was on a trail above Georgetown with fourteen people I'd never met, and by the end of the day it felt like I'd known them for years. So here I am, and the club's web page came along with the job.

Every trip on the schedule is rated so you can pick one that fits. If you're new to Colorado, new to altitude or new to hiking, start with an easy one. Nobody will think less of you, and you'll have more fun.

1. Start early. In summer and early fall, thunderstorms build over the high peaks almost every afternoon, and lightning above treeline is the most serious danger we face. On big peaks we meet before dawn and plan to be off the summit by late morning. If the leader says turn around, we turn around, even fifty feet from the top. The mountain will be there next year.
2. Water. At least two liters for an easy hike and three or more for a big one. The air is dry up here and you lose water faster than you think. Don't drink from streams without filtering or treating it.
3. Layers. It can be 80 degrees at the trailhead and snowing on the summit, on the same day. Bring a warm layer, a rain jacket, a hat and gloves on every trip, even in August. Skip the cotton; once it's wet it stays wet and cold.
4. Altitude. If you've just moved here from sea level (or Kansas, which is close enough), give yourself a week or two before going high. Headache, nausea, dizziness or unusual tiredness up high can mean altitude sickness. Tell the leader right away. The cure is to go down, and somebody will go down with you.
5. Leave no trace. Pack out everything you pack in, including orange peels. Stay on the trail, especially on the tundra, which takes decades to recover from a boot print. Leave the flowers where they are.
6. Nobody hikes alone. Every trip has a leader in front and a sweep at the back, and nobody gets behind the sweep. If you need to stop, say so. Stopping is allowed. Getting lost is not.
7. Carpools leave from the meeting place on time. Chip in for gas: we suggest $5 for the Front Range, $10 for the high country, more for overnights.

People sometimes ask why we need a gay hiking club. The mountains don't care who you are, after all. That's true. But people sometimes do, and it's nice to spend a Saturday with people who don't.

The club was started in the spring of 1993 by six friends, a few months after Amendment 2 passed here in Colorado, at a time when a lot of gay and lesbian people in this state felt unwelcome in their own home. (The Supreme Court struck it down in 1996.) They wanted somewhere to spend their weekends where nobody had to watch what they said, and they found it above treeline. Last October, when the news came from Laramie, a carload of our members drove north together to stand in a candlelight vigil. We are a hiking club, not a political one. But we look out for each other.

Some of our members are out to everyone, and some aren't out at work or to their families. Both are fine. On trips, use whatever name you like. Nobody's name goes on this page or in the newsletter without their OK, and our mailing list is never shared, with anyone. Friends, family and straight allies are welcome on every trip. Everybody is expected to be kind.