A Bad Case of Vertical Compulsion: Quandary Peak (East ridge), 14,265 Ft.

More than a month now since my last outing the weather was looking good and I was aching to get back out out onto another climb, or walk, or trudge. I did a bit of research looking at the easier of the 14'ers for winter and Quandary is well known to be an easy and safe one in any season. That being relative. In order for a 14'er to be rated as a 14'er there must be at least 3000 vertical ft. gain from the the saddle of it its adjacent peaks to the summit. Now I don't think that means all adjacent peaks or peaks like Torrey's and Gray's wouldn't fit the bill, rather at least one adjacent peak I assume. But that's semantics. I've read some interesting discussions on the criteria for which one can say that they've climbed a 14'er, for example; It's pretty universally accepted that there must be at least 3k ft. gain and you must achieve this under your own power. So after driving to the top of Mt. Evans, then walking the 50 ft. required to reach the summit, its not fair to say that you've climbed a 14'er. How about riding your bike? Obviously the bike affords you some amount of mechanical advantage but is it traded off in carrying the weight of the bike? I can speak from experience and say that I've been on bike rides where walking would have been greatly easier than riding, so it's necessarily always easier to ride. My favorite is the question, what if someone runs on a treadmill that stores an electrical charge, doing so long enough to save up enough energy to power an electric vehicle all the way to the top? Once again I digress.

Quandary and good weather.

The weather forecast was for highs in the 30's and blustery above 13k. What is blustery? Is it winds stronger than a breeze, lesser than windy? If blustery described the conditions on quandary that day, I would say extreme wind. I arrived at the trailhead, about 9 miles south of Breckenridge and directly off the main highway so I wasn't surprised to find about 15 people there before me at nearly 8:00AM. I was getting a late start due to just not getting my shit together in good time. In contrast with climbing in the summer, when it completely typical to find no parking and a steady stream of people moving up and down from base to summit, probably nearing 200 people at a time in places like Bierstadt or Quandary. In the winter it's I find it welcoming to see others on the same climb. This drastically increases the rescue index, i.e. chances of getting pulled out if you're in trouble. So in a sense I was relieved to find some company. Again as with Grizzly, beta on this trip said to be careful with route finding, specifically in the area between the summit and the top of the first eastern slope. The standard route takes you in almost a straight line up the eastern ridge, moving too far towards the North leads into some very sketchy terrain. I read a report of a climber who on the descent moved too far North and ended up descending onto the North face. Being unable to climb back off the face he was stranded and forced to spend the night, eventually be plucked out by a chopper. knowing the topo. and now having been there I find it very had to believe that it was a mistake that put him there. On the descent, even in a whiteout keeping a few things in mind keeps you on the right path... You're always descending, the terrain is never difficult and there's a slight elevation gain to climbers right. Assuming that you get too far to the North, the inability to easily descend should be evidence that you have went astray. But after being in situation where I've lost my bearings, I hold my opinions.

After gearing up and dawning the snowshoes I began a typical steady ascent to treeline and for nearly the entire way was enjoying a very nice peaceful day.

Fortunately, or shamefully in what felt like an excessively out of shape state, the other climbers out were breaking trail for me the entire way. As I approached treeline the climb ahead became visible along with the slight indication of stronger winds above. Looking closely you can make out the other climbers on the forthcoming ridge.

Continuing upward along the South edge of the Eastern ridge views, views of the surrounding mountains were spectacular, Grays and Torrey's in the far distance.

And NorthStar with the summit of Lincoln directly behind.

As the elevation increased so did the wind, giving way to incredibly forceful gusts from the Northwest relentlessly pushing me back, pausing only briefly to spin around and push from the South causing balance on some portions of the ridge to become a concern. The continual battle against the wind was beginning to drain me physically as well a make my face uncomfortably cold. I began to pull my balaclava up over my mouth witch ultimately was a mistake as the moist air that I exhaled began to freeze into a block of ice directly over my mouth. This wasn't so much a problem of my mouth being cold but rather the problem was that the balaclava became rigid with ice I no long had the ability to alternate it between shielding my nose and my neck. Eventually I was reserved accept only cover for my moth and nose leaving my neck below the chin exposed.

As I ascended along the South side of the upper bowl which is very broad and nearly flat from North to South, the combination of wind and blowing snow made for a sight and feeling that I have never experienced. It can be be described as being in the middle of a white desert.

Continuing upward from this point became painfully difficult. By now the due to the exposure of my lower chin and now the back of my neck, I could no longer feel the difference between the balaclava which was nothing more than a block of ice, my neck and the upper chest of my soft shell. When I say this I don't mean that my chest and neck all felt cold, I mean that with my bare hand, from my chin to my collar bones everything felt like a piece of ice. Other than numb everything felt fine. The last quarter mile of the ascent took nearly and hour while fighting the wind and as the slope began to increase I found it very difficult to make every ten feet. Goals, which I typically break down into small units like, "Lets make it to that next ridge" became baby steps like "lets make it to that rock" being only three steps in from of me. In this last push I began to meet the others on their way back down, all telling the same story, "if you have anything that you need to do before the summit do it now. You wont have a chance up there." They weren't mistaken, crossing the final lip onto the summit, they winds increased two fold. To point where instinctively I felt that I should crouch way down or crawl in order to move forward. These were winds were by far stronger than any other I have ever encounter previous or since. My summit of Quandary was nothing more than walking to the highest point then immediately turning around for reprieve. Unfortunately the last picture was my final opportunity given the winds. On the descent heavy blowing snow and cloud cover made for less than a photogenic experience.

The descent was very easy, wind at my back, the weather clearing with lower elevation. I made it back to the car in about 8 hours round trip, which for many of my winter climbs was good time. Back in Denver I followed up the day with a ritual night out at the brew pub, enjoying wings and cold beer. Noticing my neck was very wet I retreated to the restroom to take a look and found that the entire front of my neck from below my chin had blistered up and the back looked like a sunburn. When all was said and done, I had moderate frostbite on the back resulting the appearance of an odd tan, and severe frostbite on the front which scabbed and sloughed off leaving a fairly gaping wound for days to come... good times.