I love the lyrics to the song “Glorious” by Mamuse. So even though I’ve used them before at the beginning of a different post, I’m going to share them again.
I’ve got good friends to the left of me And good friends to my right Got the open sky above me And the earth beneath my feet Got a feeling in my heart That’s singin’ All in life is sweet – Oh what a day!
If you’ve read the ‘welcome’ page, you know that the genesis for this blog was a moving experience I had as a young man in the mountains. More precisely, it was the realization that the experience was somewhat diminished by not having anyone with whom to share it. To say that has changed would perhaps rank as the most colossal understatement of the ages. The quantity and quality of friends who have shared adventures since then almost defies description. In fact, as I gathered photos for this post, I realized there are so many friends, and so many adventures – they realistically won’t fit in one post. This, then, will be just the first in a series of photo essays to celebrate those whom I am privileged to call friend – and just a few of the adventures we’ve shared.
Boundary Waters (early 80’s)…I met the Backer boys in high school. We forged bonds of friendship doing what any self-respecting mountaineer wannabe living in the Midwest would do – we camped in the middle of winter – in northern Minnesota – in weather cold enough to freeze solid a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. Thus was born the concept of “stupid fun.”
Neatly organized pack…Check! Broken ski pole splint…Check! Wool knickers…Check! Practically ready for a trip to Everest.
Aftermath of a Warren face plant. BTW…skis were my idea. Everyone else wanted snow shoes. Thanks guys!
Mike, Dave, Dan, Phil, Warren…successful south to north crossing of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area!
1985 Mt Robson… By the time we set our sights on Robson, Dan and Warren had already climbed Rainier as teenagers (what were their parents thinking?). I had lived close to lots of mountains in Alaska. We had several BWCA trips under our belts. Yep – we were ready for the big time.
It’s all fun and games until one of those beasts jumps on your back!
Warren, Dave, Tim and Dan sporting the latest in climbing gear and clothing.
Mt Robson from our climb to the top of Mt. Resplendant. Unsuccessful summit attempt on Robson, but super successful climbing adventure.
Studly Noob climbers. We didn’t even know what we didn’t know – and we still had fun.
The journey – and the views along the way – are just as important as the destination.
A New Life (1985)…Two weeks after Robson I said “I do” to an amazing new chapter in life with my best friend and adventure partner. One of our first (and still favorite) adventures was a seven week long, 2,500 mile bike ride up the east coast and into the maritime provinces of Canada.
The bike trip was a microcosm of marriage…lots of figuring things out.
For those who know me now, there was a time when MY hair was longer than Sharon’s.
Lots of miles and smiles that summer.
One of our less successful dinner experiments – a true gastronomic nightmare!
Somehow this captures what life would be like living in the inner city of Milwaukee, working, raising three boys, you know…life!
Boundary Waters…Again (2002)…Life in Milwaukee was fun, challenging and filled with lots of good times with many, many dear friends. We watched our children grow from infants to teens and were fully immersed in that world. A new century seemed like a good time for a fresh start though. In 2001 we moved to a mountain town in northern AZ and were suddenly confronted with a whole new world – a world filled with new friends and opportunities for new adventures. Interesting that I kicked off this new chapter in early 2002 with an old adventure with old friends.
Can’t remember exactly, but I think that was a brochure for a beach front time share.
Seems like Dan keeps popping up in all these posts involving snow and puffy jackets.
Yep…still snows in the Boundary Waters.
The gear had improved considerably in 20 years. Much more comfortable than I remember.
Warren, Tim, Phil, Dave and Dan Boss after another successful trip.
Collectively, the four trips presented here amount to less than three months out of the 57 years I’ve spent on the planet so far. Only seven people are pictured in these photos. Seven people out of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of people I’ve met in the course of my life. A tiny fraction. And yet, when I look at these pictures, the flood gates open, the memories come pouring out and fill my heart. They make me smile and laugh. They make me grateful. And they inspire me. They inspire me to call, or text, or email a friend – to talk, to reminisce – and to plan another adventure!
I’ve debated writing this post for some time. My reasons for climbing are very personal. I find most mountains to be awe-inspiring. I love spending time in such beautiful spaces. I never tire of looking out at the world from high on a mountain, and I enjoy the mental and physical challenges involved in getting to those high places. Conversely, I’ve met plenty of folks whose only interest in climbing peaks seems to be so they can say they’ve done it. There seems to be little joy in the doing of the thing, only in having it be done in order to boast or humble brag. So my goal in sharing thoughts and photos from our 2015 climbing trip is not as a way of saying, “Look what I’ve done.” My hope is to share a little bit of what makes Denali “The Great One” and to hopefully inspire some awe along the way.
I’ve found that in talking about Denali, it helps to share some of the basics. The most commonly climbed route on Denali is known as the “West Buttress” named for a narrow ridge that is part of the route between a camp at 14,000′ and the high camp at 17,000′. The summit of Denali is 13,000 feet higher, and some 18 miles distant from the normal starting point on the Kahiltna glacier. (By comparison, Everest climbers ascend 12,000 vertical feet from base camp to summit). Because of the copious amounts of bad weather, distance and elevation, most teams plan for 3+ weeks on the mountain. For us, gear, food, fuel, etc. for that amount of time amounted to 110-130 lbs each. Most teams “double carry” on the mountain. That means climbers carry a load of gear and supplies a few miles up the mountain, drop the load and return back down to their camp. Next morning they break camp and climb back up to where they dropped gear the previous day and establish a new camp. This process is repeated all the way to high camp at 17,000′. This helps climbers acclimate to the altitude and allows for lighter loads. It is a tried and true method used on big mountains all over the world. It also seems rather insane! Rather than climb the mountain twice, we chose to “single” carry. This meant that as we moved from camp to camp up the mountain we carried all our gear, split approximately 60%-40% between our sleds (affectionately known as “dead pigs”) and backpacks. Obviously the additional weight made the climb more difficult, especially on the steep bits. The HUGE trade off was that we only climbed the mountain once.
My mountaineering career moved from the stuff of dreams to reality when I started spending summers in Alaska at age 17. The two great attributes of youth – stupidity and a sense of invincibility – fueled my early climbing adventures and dreams. I have a long history of dreaming about Denali. Even 130 miles away, on a clear day the mountain was visible from Anchorage. It loomed impossibly large on the horizon, and in a young man’s fancy. Shortly before his death on Everest, I actually wrote to Denali giant – Ray Genet – asking for advice on climbing Denali “alpine” style. Considering my “vast” experience at age 19, he politely told me I was an idiot for even considering such a thing. He was right of course, but still…
Thirty-ish years later, in 2009, events in my life and my climbing career coincided to present an opportunity to make a dream come true and attempt a climb on the Great One. Everything went according to plan and we moved up to high camp without any problems. In spite of possibly the best weather window in the entire history of mountaineering, personnel problems prevented a summit attempt. While it was a disappointment having to turn back with the summit within reach, I was content with the knowledge that I could have reached the top. I was content having been able to spend several weeks in one of the most stunning alpine environments on earth.
Dan and Steve would not be denied. May 2015 back at Kahiltna International Airport loading the dead pigs for another adventure on Denali.
I may have been content, but Dan wasn’t. Almost immediately, I suspect, he began plotting our return. When Dan suggested another attempt in 2015, I initially wasn’t interested. I knew I could have reached the summit on the previous trip and didn’t feel the need to prove anything to myself. The weather this time around was almost certain to be horrible. There were issues of time and money. Dan being Dan, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and enlisted the aid of our mutual friend Steve to help wear me down. Peer pressure can be brutal and I finally said yes. Spring of 2015 became a frenzy of training, choosing and sorting both gear and food, and attending to countless other details. Eventually we found ourselves, once again, in Talkeetna.
Unfortunately packing requirements for the flight to Anchorage are different than the packing requirements for our climb. Talkeetna Air Taxi provides large tent shelters for climbers to sort and repack gear.
All climbers are required to check in with climbing rangers in Talkeetna. They spell out all the do’s and don’ts for climbers. This is necessary because of dangers, and because of the large number of climbers who attempt Denali every year. The stats were not encouraging!
The first view of the Great One is very intimidating.
The 55 mile flight covers some very rugged terrain.
Arrival at base camp on the Kahiltna Glacier means more time organizing gear. The weather worsened during our flight in, and flights were suspended. We were the last ones in that day.
Heading into the gloom towards our first camp 5 1/2 miles up the Kahiltna Glacier.
Low clouds sometimes cause “whiteout” conditions. White clouds and white snow make it almost impossible to spot landmarks. Fortunately we had a good trail to our first camp.
Camp 1.
The weather worsened, with whiteout conditions. Already on day 2 we were forced to burn a ‘weather day’.
in 2009, this was the view from camp 1. Quite a contrast. Stunning weather and scenery.
Dan is the champion of waiting out weather days.
Patience is a big part of climbing a big peak. Nice to be tent bound with nice people. Lots of interesting conversation.
On day 3 weather was good enough for us to move farther up the glacier to Camp 2. It was not good enough for pictures however.
This picture is from the morning of day 4. Blue bird skies at last.
The views while climbing on Denali never cease to amaze.
Route finding (in good weather) is simple. Hike to the end of the Kahiltna Glacier and turn right.
After the right turn, continue hauling the dead pigs uphill towards camp 3
Climbers making their way up to camp at 11,000 feet.
Camp 3 – 11,000. It is always a bonus not having to build your own storm shelter.
This home away from home came with a ready made kitchen.
We took turns melting snow for our drinking and cooking water. This little chore usually took 2-3 hours a day. We carried 3 gallons of white gas to power our stove.
Another nice day means another day of climbing. A few years ago, the large overhanging ice blocks on the right broke off and avalanched, killing climbers on the path leading out of camp.
Camp at 14,000′
Dan once again taking over kitchen duty. Not a bad view though.
Getting to the camp at 14,000 is a major accomplishment. It means you’ve avoided the crevasses on the Kahiltna glacier, not been blown off the mountain at Windy Corner, and ascended 7,000 feet – just over half way to the summit. It is also where the climbing starts to get serious. It is 2,000 feet up a headwall to the West Buttress Ridge, which climbs another 1,000 feet to the high camp at 17,000′. In 2009 we watched as two climbers from Minnesota took a fatal fall down a couloir above camp. In 2015 we watched a helicopter airlift the body of another climber from the high camp. These are constant reminders that this is a serious mountain, and one can never take safety for granted.
Above 14,000 the lack of oxygen starts to become more noticeable, especially with a steep 2,000′ vertical climb.
At the top of the headwall there is 800′ of fixed rope. At this point we’ve cached the sleds and are carrying enough food and fuel for several days – enough for our summit attempt.
The rocky ridge is the West Butress. The little nub in the middle is known as Washburn’s Thumb.
Close up of Washburn’s Thumb with climbers visible for perspective.
CE55 Mountain Pant.
Dan making his way around Washburns Thumb.
Steve on the Butt – my favorite shot of the entire trip.
Home at 17,000′ feet. It literally feels like you are in outer space. In the background is Denali Pass (18,000′). The path up to the pass is called the Autobahn.
Looking 3,000′ down at 14k camp.
Yeah…
We spent a rest day at high camp eating, hydrating, prepping gear, chatting with other climbers and enjoying the atmosphere. The weather cooperated, so on day nine of our climb we set out for the summit.
Just above Denali Pass…our high point in 2009. From here on it was all new. The wind at the pass was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. It was like some malevolent being intent on killing us.
The secret to success – no exposed flesh.
Pig Hill leading up to the summit ridge. My opinion…this is a very poorly designed mountain. Pig Hill was pure evil at almost 20,000′
Pausing just before the summit ridge. The wind was brutal…we actually discussed whether or not we would continue.
Little known fact. As we cross the narrow trail on the ridge, Steve actually caught another climber who had unclipped from the rope and then tripped. Steve saved this climber from what would have been a fatal flaw.
Summit of Denali – 20,320′ Temperature was -30 F with a steady wind in excess of 40mph. Estimated windchill -71F. Not a good day to linger.
Heading back to Denali Pass. Round trip from high camp to the summit was 5 miles, 3,300′ vertical and 17 hours. It was a long, glorious day.
Summit day was amazing. Until we were actually traversing across to the summit ridge though, I didn’t allow myself to believe it was actually going to happen. There are so many things that have to go right, and so many things that can go wrong. The weather cooperated. We had a good plan and a strong team. Dan was the same upbeat, reliable climbing partner he has been for the past 30 years. Prior to Denali, Steve had only climbed Rainier and Mt Baker. He overcame his initial hesitance and developed into a strong, confident climber.
The result of exposed flesh meeting -71F windchill
Even with everything going right, it was still a challenge. Dan ended up getting frostbite on his face, and was a bit hypothermic coming off the summit. Then when we thought we were going to get a rest day at high camp, we got word of a storm blowing in. We didn’t have enough food or fuel to wait out a big Denali storm, so we had to pack up and head down only hours after returning to camp. Then back down at 11,000′ camp, the storm finally caught us and kept us tent bound for four days before we could descend. We all reminded ourselves that we were there by choice and it was all part of the experience.
It is hard to believe that all this took place 3 1/2 years ago. In the years since, there have been other adventures and other mountains. And God willing, there will be many more adventures in the years to come. I’m quite certain though, that nothing will come close to matching our time spent on “The Great One.”
Our plan was to have no plan…and everything was going exactly according to plan.
The only fixed date in our whole Norway adventure was “Norway’s Toughest Mountain Race” – the Hornindal Rundt – on Saturday, July 7th. With that event and a rest day road trip to the coast in the rear view mirror, the question was “Now what?” We went to bed having decided to drive to Ålesund in the morning, to see the city and spend time camping and hiking along the coast. As often happens though, morning came a bit early for me. I spent a few quiet hours pondering the possibilities contained in some tourist brochures and guidebooks. One guidebook offered an intriguing description of Mt Saksa in the nearby town of Urke. No need to rush off to Ålesund. Perhaps a detour was in order? On our way out of a town we stopped to congratulate Siv (we ran together for several hours during the race) on her Hornindal finish. Being a wonderful person, and a native to these parts, she suggested some hikes for us to consider…one of which just happened to be in the area near Urke…Mt. Saksa! That settled it. A visit to Urke was our new, no plan plan!!
The 30+ mile drive from Grodas to Urke was impossibly beautiful (of course). After a bit of a climb we entered a long narrow valley of steep walls, waterfalls, rivers, lakes, lovely farms, and eventually Hjørundfjord and Urke. Even if there wasn’t a dramatic mountain to climb, the drive alone would have been worth the trip.
The trailhead to Saksa was well marked and easy to find. We paid to park and after a quick check on gear and food, we set off up the trail. Almost immediately we met Sarah and Idun who had already stopped to adjust their gear and shed some layers. “Technical stop” they said with a laugh. We chatted with them for a bit, then continued on, leapfrogging with Idun and Sarah several times during the steep ascent. And when I say steep – I mean to say a casual stroll by Norwegian standards. In the realm of mere mortals, very steep. Something like the vertical gain of Flagstaff’s very own Mt. Humphreys – in half the distance. 3,500’ vertical in 2 ½ miles vs. Humphrey’s 3,300 in 5 miles.
With very little warning, we were suddenly on top with a rather agreeable group of hikers. A 9 month old girl was celebrating her first summit, accompanied by helpful parents and grandparents. Very soon after we arrived, Sara and Idun joined us on top, along with several others, all enjoying the grand view from the summit of Saksa. And what a view! Directly below us the impossibly blue Hjørundfjord split into two arms, ringed on all sides by rugged peaks jutting up from the water. A moderate breeze pushed some clouds around, but without any real suggestion of rain. This was what we had come to Norway to see.
A wee girl’s first summit
Idun and Sarah
Summit Victory pose
What we didn’t realize until a few days later, was that this was – literally – what we had come to see. Before we left for Norway, we watched an excellent Salomon TV video (Salomon Dream Trip Video). This video features a young woman who won her dream trip to spend a week in Norway, hanging out and running with Emilie Forsberg and Ida Nilsson. After watching that video, we both said, “I don’t know where in Norway that is…but that’s where we want to go!” Turns out we did!! No wonder we loved it!
We probably spent close to an hour at the summit, soaking in the views and just enjoying the moment. Sarah and Idun were kind enough to snap a few pics for us. They also introduced us to the brilliant Norwegian practice of bringing (and sharing) their amazing “Kvikk Lunsj” chocolate bars. There is something of a national obsession with these massive melkesjokolade taste treats – and rightly so. For the rest of our trip, we made sure to bring one along on every hike. (We still have a couple in the freezer!) It was a safety issue! After all, no one wants a repeat of the Donner Party!! We also watched with interest as folks buttered slices of excellent Norwegian bread and layered on a thick piece of cheese for a tasty and filling snack. Others brought out hard boiled eggs from their clever plastic egg carriers. Norwegians certainly know how to enjoy life in the out of doors.
By the time we decided to head down, we’d made two important discoveries. First – we spied a likely looking place to camp in the valley below Mt Saksa. The second was that Sarah and Idun were going to have dinner and a beer a bit later at a small restaurant/bar right on the edge of the fjord…and more importantly…wouldn’t mind our company. The prospective camp site materialized as hoped so we set up camp in a lovely spot and enjoyed a quick dinner. A short bit later we met up with Idun and Sarah.
Home for the evening
The Urke Kaihus
Idun and Sarah with their American students.
One beer led to another and the evening stretched on for several hours as these wonderful young ladies schooled us on the proper pronunciation of unpronounceable Norwegian words and place names. We also talked of love, life, aspirations, hard realities, hopes, dreams, differences between Norway and the US, travels we’ve all taken and places we’d like to visit. We talked on well past the time the bar had closed. Eventually we exchanged contact information, reluctantly said our good-byes, and went our separate ways.
Later as we lay in the comfort of our sleeping bags, we both agreed this had been the day that perfectly captured what we had hoped to experience in Norway. Siv, Urke, Hjørundfjord, Saksa, the Urke Kaihus, Sarah and Idun all combined to give us a memorable – no – a perfect day. Thank you Norway. Vi elsker deg.
Following our inquiry, the helpful young lady in the visitor center said “Turn right when you leave here, walk three blocks and then turn right at the (relevant landmark reference). Then walk four blocks and you’ll be there.” As we left, Sharon asked, “Did you notice what she said? She said ‘walk’.” Well of course! She assumed that since it was only 7 blocks, we would walk. Why would one drive such a short distance?? Clearly not a sentiment shared in all corners of the globe
Scene one is NOT likely to see in Norway
When asked, that same helpful young lady offered several suggestions for good hikes – hikes that she liked to do “for fun” in the area around Jotunheimen national park. And so it was that later that day, we found ourselves at a trailhead near the Krossbu lodge. Our plan was to hike to the top of, then along a ridge. Our local contact said she had gone for several miles along this ridge, and then bushwhacked back to the trailhead.
The trail immediately started climbing, and for the most part followed a boisterous creek. Before long we found that it was being fed by three attractive waterfalls. At the 2 mile mark we crested a rise and were confronted by a broad glacier sweeping down to its terminus in a lake. This was a real bargain hike with amazing views such a short distance from the trailhead. In spite of the fact that Jotunheimen is the busiest national park, there were only a few people scattered on the comfy rocks around the lake.
Leirbreen with Store Smorstabbstinden on the left
After resting for a bit we spied a likely route to the top of the ridge and began our climb. All the while a forbidding peak called Store Smorstabbstinden loomed high above us to our right. From the top of the ridge we were treated to amazing views of three separate glaciers nestled in amongst a jumble of peaks. I’d like to say I pulled up some brilliantly relevant John Muir quote to describe the beauty all around us. I’m afraid it mostly rendered us speechless. The best my overwhelmed brain cells could come up with was “wow!” Just “wow!” over and over again.
Leirbreen (Leir Glacier) from above
Store Smorstabbstinden and Storbreen (Stor Glacier
We sat atop of the ridge and drank in the view of glaciers and lakes and ridges and peaks and….wow! From our perch on the ridge we noticed that the ridge to the north would require some significant climbing over some slightly less “wow” worthy terrain. In the other direction, Store Smorstabbstinded still loomed, still looked like a bit of a challenge, but also began to call – whisper really “come on up!” It was faint, at first, but I definitely heard it. The longer we sat looking up at the summit, still 1,600′ above us…the whisper grew louder. Sharon heard it too.
The last few hundred feet to the summit of Store Smorstabbstinden
The middle third of the face presented some challenging route finding through some very steep rocks and cliff bands. The summit was spectacular! Even more so because of the challenge. We looked east into the heart of Jotunheimen national park. We were surrounded by the highest peaks in Norway, all with their own glaciers draped on their flanks. To the southwest we saw a high alpine wonderland and without speaking knew that we would camp there later that evening. Once again “Impossible Norway” came through. It didn’t seem possible that we could have found a better place, or way, to celebrate Sharon’s birthday!
The Queen on her Birthday surveying her realm
Even though it was already late, the sun was still high in the sky. You’ve got to love the northern latitudes in summer! And it had barely made a move toward the horizon by the time we made it back to the care at 8:30pm. It didn’t take long for us to find an impossibly beautiful campsite with impossibly beautiful views. While I set up camp, Sharon worked her one pot wonder magic. We capped off the evening with a visit to the lovely Krossbu Lodge for a birthday beer….an $18 apiece birthday beer. After a magical day, neither of us minded. A perfect end to a perfect day.
The view from our tent…it doesn’t suck
View in the other direction, including Store Smorstabbstinden
Krossbu Lodge
By the way, in case you were wondering…the phrase “Norge er ikke skapt for å sitte på ræva” means “Norway is not created to sit on the butt!” As this day proved, it most certainly is not!!
Even though there are several very good Thai restaurants in Flagstaff, when I want Thai food, I always go to Pato Thai. And even though they have many excellent food selections on their menu, I always end up ordering the orange chicken, #3 on the spicy scale….which I realize isn’t authentic Thai food. So, even though I have lots of options, I keep choosing the same thing. Boring? Perhaps. But here’s the thing…I really like Pato Thai’s orange chicken.
That explains, in part, how once again Sharon and I ended up in the San Juan mountains of southwestern Colorado. We considered going back to the Canadian Rockies (after a long absence). We considered going to some mountain ranges in Idaho and Montana that we have yet to explore. Even though we had all these intriguing choices, we finally decided that we really like the San Juan mountains. Of course there was the added bonus of being able to see Aaron, Vanessa – and grandson Oliver along the way.
Last summer we spent an amazing week on an off trail backtrip trip through the Grenadier range in the Weminuche wilderness. (You can read about it here. Wet and Wild in the Weminuche) This year, the backpacks stayed home. This, we decided, would be a car camping, relaxing, trail running, peak bagging adventure.
Following the well worn path from work to the George-Moore Casa, we arrived in Durango on Friday and spent a pleasant evening. We set out Saturday morning for the high country west of Lake City. The monsoon weather pattern smiled favorably on us, and even though it was already 2pm, the four of us set out for the top of Handies.
Oliver is not a small person. Aaron was a monster hiker. We had trouble keeping up with him. After breaking out of the trees, we got our first view of Handies.
Climbing 14’ers is hard work (apparently).
After his nap, Oliver is super excited for the summit. His favorite saying was “Go!”
We were pleasantly surprised by the light snowpack on the north facing slopes.
Summit ridge. (Note: Two weeks after we were here, participants in the Hardrock 100 ascended this same trail in a horrific hail thunderstorm!!)
“Safety third” as we like to say. Oliver was making sure his UberLyft driver was properly hydrated.
Oliver’s first 14’er. I suspect it may not be his last. Strong work Daddy!
The weather continued to cooperate, so we were able to lounge for a bit on the summit. We chatted with some fellow hikers, enjoyed the amazing views, and most importantly, helped Oliver throw rocks – which apparently is the main reason anyone would climb a mountain.
Congrats to Aaron on Oliver’s first “Teener!” Unfortunately work called, so the two boys headed back early the next day. Sharon and I used the all day rain (and threat of rain) as an excuse to lounge around camp, eat and – the ultimate luxury – read a whole book. The rest day was actually planned, since day 3 was going to be a double 14’er day. Being on the same ridge, Red Cloud and Sunshine are typically both climbed in a day. After reaching Red Cloud, the trail continues and drops – and then climbs 500′ back up to the summit of Sunshine. This ends up being a longish day of 12 miles and 4,600 feet of elevation gain. Other than bouts of manic wind, it was another beautiful day in the company of my amazing, lovely bride.
Bacon – the fuel of real adventurers!
Heading up the Silver Creek trail
Looking back down the valley, Handies is in the background.
From this ridge at 13,000′ still another (steep) 1,000′ to the summit of Red Cloud
We’ve dropped 500′ feet and are beginning the climb back up to Sunshine
Obligatory summit shot. Amazing views and beautiful lounging weather.
Red Cloud from the summit of Sunshine
Sharon contemplates the climb back up to Red Cloud
Paused in the gale force summit winds for a quick selfie
From the ridge at 13K, the trail back begs to be run. We obliged.
One of the problems with “Juan-dering” in the San Juans is that the choices are endless. As we lounged around that evening, savoring the afterglow of another successful day in the mountains, we weighed and discussed our many options. Since neither of us had been there, we finally decided to explore/hike/climb in the area around Crested Butte. We would then continue around to the Silverton/Ouray area and meet up with Aaron, Vanessa and Oliver at St Paul Lodge at Red Mountain Pass.
So on our nation’s birthday, we made a casual journey through Lake City, Gunnison, and Crested Butte. By days end we found ourselves several miles up Washington Gulch Road at a stunning campsite. We settled in above 10,000′ looking across at the Raggeds Wilderness.
Not a bad spot…if you’re into that whole alpine beauty thing!
Next day we opted for an ascent of nearby Mt Baldy. Once we’d reached the long, summit ridge we met up with Becky from B.C. Becky was something of an overachiever. She had ridden her mountain bike (up) from Crested Butte to the trailhead, and then come up to the ridge by a different route. We decided to make the long traverse to the summit together. Along the way, and on the summit we had an extremely pleasant chat with our new friend. We didn’t know at the time, but later found out that Becky was doing the Hardrock 100. Two weeks later we watched her race to a 5th place finish among women. Well done Becky! (Especially since she’s our age – truly awesome!!!) While Baldy might not be the most aesthetically pleasing mountain, it did benefit from location. Looking north we were treated to the Maroon Bells in all their splendor.
Catching my breath whilst taking in the breathtaking views.
Sharon with the summit ridge stretching off in the distance.
Yes – the truth is out – I’m married to Wonder Woman
Summit shot of Sharon and Becky
Becky Bates at the Hardrock finish. 5th place woman!!
Mt Baldy with Gothic Mountain in the background
Despite the initial gnarliness of the route, Baldy turned out to be a fun mountain. And even with a ‘relaxed’ start time and plenty of time spent on top, there was plenty of time back at camp to relax, quaff adult beverages, read and enjoy a gourmet meal before bed. Hopefully I don’t sound too boastful when I say that I think we’ve got this whole vacation thing pretty well figured out. Our last bit of exploration around Crested Butte took place the next day on the “Oh Be Joyful” trail. The name itself was reason enough to go explore. While nothing dramatic, the trail did ascend a pretty canyon, along a beautiful creek, with some dramatic waterfalls spilling down from on high. After lots of high peaks, it was a relaxing and enjoyable “stroll.”
At times it may not seem like it…but we really do know how to relax.
Friday was a big day. We had a pleasant hotel night in Ouray (can you say hot shower??) on Thursday plus some liquid carbo loading at a local brew pub. All this was prep for a training hike/run up Imogene pass. We both wanted to take the opportunity to gauge our training progress for the annual IPR. Results were mixed. It was somewhat encouraging, yet humbling as always. After a shaky start, Sharon finished very strong. I felt decent both ways, but clearly not where I need to be to put up a good time on September.
Sharon getting her second wind above upper Camp Bird.
Soul crushing steepness and lots of snow up high.
The tally on this Friday “Hikers = 4” “Motorized vehicles = 50-100” I will say all but two were very considerate. Much more fun doing the pass on foot in September with 1,498 of our closest friends.
We celebrated a grueling, but successful training run/hike with dinner at one of our favorites – the Colorado Boy brew pub in Ridgeway.(http://coloradoboy.com/ ) EXCELLENT pizza and tasty beverages. And as always, enjoyed in the convivial company of fellow diners.
“I run…therefore I eat”
Experienced trail runners know how to carbo load and hydrate at the same time.
We wrapped up our week of fun and frolic with a weekend at the St Paul Lodge with Aaron, Vanessa and Oliver. Activities included Oliver led adventures, more vertical human powered travel, food, conversation, reading, naps, and enjoying time in a very special mountain setting.
Hiking up from Red Mt Pass towards Ptarmigan Lake and Imogene Pass
Aaron and Vanessa continued on to Ptarmigan Lake. With some sketchy weather brewing, we decided to head down.
Always nice to be able to walk out the door in July and get some snow to chill the wine.
Oliver approves of “Pa’s digger”
The next generation enjoying St Paul Lodge
All too soon we had to part ways with the kids and with the mountains of Colorado. As always, we came away full of wonderful memories of the people and places we’d visited. Once again, the carp was well and truly seized!
I’ll be honest – I don’t like people! Well actually, I don’t dislike all people all the time. My antisocial tendencies only really kick in when I’m seeking solitude and escape from civilization. When I’m in the wilderness I don’t want to see anyone else. Selfishly (and unrealistically) I want it all for myself! Fortunately my lovely bride (and fellow lover of solitude) knows this about me and supports my occasional antisocial behavior. In fact, a while back we collaborated to come up with the perfect introvert backpacking trip. We planned to spend several days roaming off trail in the Grenadier mountains in the already remote Weminuche wilderness of southwestern Colorado. It was everything an introvert could hope for.
We started our trip in the parking lot at the Molas trailhead waiting for heavy rain to move out of the area. We’re not made of sugar and history has proven that we won’t melt if we get wet. But still – all evidence to the contrary – we are neither sadistic nor masochistic. As the day wore on, we (endlessly) weighed our options – bag it and start tomorrow, or just go for it? The forecast called for better weather the next day, but we were ready to go today. Finally we got a little break in the rain and decided to head out. The “on trail” portion of our trip took us down to the Animas River, and then up Elk Creek as far as the “Beaver Ponds.” As expected we slogged through some heavy downpours. Fortunately these were interspersed with bits of sunshine.
Perfect weather for a hike!
Let the adventure begin. If you look in the upper right hand corner, you can see that this is actually a blue bird day!
Doesn’t look like it, but we’re waiting for some heavy rain to pass.
The real fun began the next day. Up, and up and up into the Vestal basin below Arrowhead Peak, the amazing Wham ridge on Vestal, and farther up – the Trinity Peaks. We got to the end of the trail (our goal) and just kept heading up the valley until we found a nice camp spot in a high meadow. One might assume, that after a long day we’d both be ready to spend the remaining hours before bed just lounging around camp. One might…and one would assume incorrectly. Sharon decided to go exploring in the direction of Wham ridge and made it to the base. I was content sitting around until Sharon shamed me with her energy. I thought I’d head up just to the top of the small ridge above our camp. Of course, there was another slightly higher ridge that promised an even better view…and so on, until I was able to get a good look at our route for the next day.
The trail heading up to the Vestal Basin. Arrowhead Peak in the background.
Wham Ridge on Vestal Peak.
Camped at 12,000′, looking down valley at Vestal and Arrowhead Peak.
Sharon listening to the mountains calling her name.
Nice side view of Wham Ridge.
Our plan for the next several days was to continue off trail. Next day would be a short day, heading over the unnamed, but informally and aptly named “No Pass Pass” or “Gnarly Ass Pass” and descend to Trinity Lake. Then we would find our way over two passes in order to camp near Leviathan Lake to the south. From Leviathan we would make our way down valley to pick up a major trail that would eventually take us north to Highland Mary Lakes, and then out to our car. That was the plan. Of course, as always, subject to change.
Next morning, No Pass Pass was the first obstacle. When we scrambled up a boulder and scree slope and got our first good look, it was a bit intimidating. When we watched a mountain goat slip on the loose rocks as he made his way over the pass, it didn’t do much for our confidence. But as usual, delirious optimism won the day. As is often the case, reality wasn’t nearly as bad as perception. As we dropped down to the beautiful Trinity Lake, a gnarly, nasty monsoon storm followed us over Gnarly Ass Pass. Even though we hadn’t gone far, Trinity Lake suddenly looked like an excellent place to set up camp.
Gnarly Ass Pass
Looking down at Trinity Lake
Happy to be on top of the pass.
Our work wasn’t done yet. The climb down was pretty steep.
Storm clouds on the horizon. Typical monsoon activity can be a little ‘exciting’ when camped above 12K
Getting ready for the storm.
Next morning – Bluebird skies!
As all the experts say – the most important meal of the day is BREAKFAST in a stunning location.
The route to Leviathan Lake was pretty spectacular. Still plenty of snow up high, even in July. The real challenge though, came as we attempted to descend to Leviathan. Our topo map showed steep terrain, but plenty of possible routes down. This time reality offered up a swift kick to our backsides. We spent several hours working our way down one promising route after another, only to have each cliff out. Which of course meant climbing back up a steep mountain side in search of another possible route. As afternoon turned to early evening, we were starting to get a little concerned. Finally we saw a possible chink the mountain armor. Naturally it required more climbing and a long traverse. When at last we came to a small flat spot, the only one we’d seen in hours, we decided to just call it quits for the day. A brief reconnaissance revealed a place where it looked like we’d be able to descend. With that worry off our minds, we set about enjoying one of the remote, scenic camp spots ever.
Our route took us past this lake and to the valley below the dark face on the right.
Apparently Silex Lake didn’t get the memo that summer had arrived.
Sharon route finding up to the first pass.
Up and over the second pass of the day.
The cliff band that thwarted our efforts to descend.
Finally, after a long day we were thrilled to find the only flat spot we’d seen for hours.
Once again the neighbors stopped by to check us out.
Camp at 12,800′
Day five was turned out to be a beautiful, relaxing and challenging day all rolled into one. The descent required some serious route finding, but we eventually made our way down 800′ to Leviathan Lake. The word ‘blue’ really doesn’t do justice to Leviathan Lake. One is moved to do a synonym search to find a more appropriate descriptor. Azure possibly? Cerulean perhaps? Beautiful definitely!
Stunning Leviathan Lake
After a break spent on the shoreline enjoying the views, we dropped another 500′ to a smaller lake. Since we’d gotten an early start and were making good time, and since the views were so spectacular, we decided to spend a few hours at this lake relaxing, reading, chatting, and exploring.
To quote Sharon “This doesn’t suck!”
Our little lounging lake with Mt. Leviathan in the background.
Unfortunately, time waits for no one. The time came for us to leave our little paradise and return to the trails and people below. With the possible exception of our previous day’s difficulties, wandering about above timberline is a joy. Wandering about below timberline is a chore. With no trail to follow, and no direction to go other than “down” we began to make our way to the valley floor. Enough to say that it was tough going. Eventually we came across little snippets of trail scattered about in the woods. Gradually the little snippets joined together to form a real trail leading us a crossing of Vallecito Creek. Once across, we were back to established trails and back to what we thought of as “civilization” … even though it was still far removed in the middle of a wilderness area. The previous days of off trail travel had delivered on the promise of solitude.
After several days above 12,000′ we were back down in the thick air and balmy temps at 10,000′ along the Vallecito trail.
Day six was a long day north along the Vallecito trail, across on a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail, eventually bringing us to the Highland Mary lakes. While the trail was beautiful in its own right and passed through some lovely terrain, it suffered only by comparison to the sublime heights from which we had just descended. Incessant forward motion carried us thirteen long miles over passes and through valleys. The Highland Mary Lakes were a welcome sight.
Out of the valley and back up above timberline – not once, but twice in a single day.
This is why people come to the Continental Divide trail. Miles of beautiful hiking above timberline.
Enjoying a little R & R after a long day on the trail.
Looking south at the Grenadier Range – Vestal and Arrowhead Peaks –
from whence we came.
Back above 12,000′ – campsite at Highland Mary Lakes.
Last morning on the trail.
The final mile down the road to where Aaron left our car.
As usual, our last day was bittersweet. Obviously we looked forward to something other than trail food. A hot shower is always welcome. Seeing family in Durango is always a joy. Days in the wilderness however, bring a special satisfaction that is unmatched in civilization. Thanks Weminuche, for a wet, wild and wonderful week!
