Quandary Peak (East ridge), 14,265 Ft. - Jan. 10, 2009

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.



Additional Photos

Grizzly Peak - Dec. 6, 2008

So after many months of being lazy, at least when it comes to writing up my trips, I've decided that if I'm ever going to get caught up and really use this blog as a journal, I need to make a concerted effort to post all my backed up trips. Which brings me to a cold day on Cupid and the birthday of a good friend.



The initial plan for this trip was to make an attempt on Torrey's peak from the North starting at Loveland Pass. This would include the ridge line traverse of numerous other peaks both out and back, including Point 12,850, Cupid and Grizzly. The topo for this trip is actually incorrect because at the time, being under nearly whiteout conditions I'd thought that I had made it as far as the bottom of the Northeast ridge of Grizzly. As I came to realize on a later trip I was a bit off and after successfully making this traverse I now feel that it was probably a good thing.

On the morning of the sixth I woke for a typical alpine start at around 4:30AM and was on the road near 5:00. Making my way up the I-70 corridor the weather was good and just what I would expect for a pre dawn mountain drive in the winter. The first indicator of the conditions to come was terribly icy roads on I-70 just prior to the Loveland Pass exit. Fortunately as I made the exit and began the ascent up the pass, the nagging slush and sleet subsided for a very peaceful though snow packed drive to the summit. Nearing 7:00AM I was at the summit and to my surprise found a few other people already parked there. From their gear and the direction they set off it was evident that they were getting an early start on a ski descent of the bowl directly adjacent the ridge line I was to about to climb. By the time I was geared up, including a heavy winter coat in addition to the normal 3+ worn and packed winter layers, snow shoes in hand I was on my up the West ridge of Point 12,850. Beta on this trip had indicated that once reaching the summit of the first peak (12,850) care should be taken, possibly marking the location of the trail as in a whiteout situation the trail may be hard to locate given the broad summit of the peak in conjunction with the broad saddles between each of the coming peaks. At the time the weather was fairly peaceful barring a strong wind moving South by Southeast which had been a minor nag for the duration of the initial climb. Though I was quite comfortable in terms of temperature regulation I was beginning to be a little concerned about a heavy cloud cover that had developed... or a least become visible since sunrise. Given the fact that I was going to be traversing multiple ridge lines, particularly up and down Grizzly, the threat of walking of a cornice was a consequence that I needed to be aware of.

A side note on the usage of the term consequence; Generally in the world of mountaineering, or climbing and likely many other disciplines, consequence is used as a way of relaying the evaluation of danger in the prospective situation. So when I say that walking off a cornice is possible consequence, it's not meant to be a retrospective description, like "wow, I chose that ridge and walked off a cornice as a consequence" but rather an evaluation of the action like "my current consequences are a 500 foot free ride off the mountain, lightning could strike, etc".

By the time I had made it to the Northeastern side of the first ridge the weather had changed from thick cloud cover to heavy blowing snow or possibly a snowstorm, all being relative. I took a moment to snap a few photos of the current conditions and well as an ad-hoc shot of myself all bundled up.





From here I began to question if I should continue given the weather but ultimately decided that visibility was good enough and that due to the short distance that I had traveled, if conditions worsened I had an easy trip back, so I mustered on. Continuing down off Point 12,850 toward Cupid the remainder of the trip up Cupid's ridge line, the conditions remained unchanged with low visibility and difficult trip finding. At some point after my descent from Cupid I made a critical error. In retrospect its hard to determine what caused it, possibly cold on the brain or the unanticipated difficulty of ascending the minor peak just below the West ridge of cupid, nevertheless I had at the time mistaken Cupid for Grizzly Peak which I was now approaching and thought the West ridge of Grizzly was the West ridge of Torrey's Peak. By this time the terrain was becoming increasingly difficult, class 3 under normal conditions but now made for a bit higher pucker factor. I continued to descend further down the ridge line stopping to rest and get a shot of the climb.

Once I completed the descent, the West ridge of (Grizzly) though I thought Torrey's was now visibly across a broad snowfield. Looking at the snow field and feeling a little uneasy about both the visibility, allowing for the potential to walk out on to a cornice and slow slope of lower portion of the ridge I had descended I decided to stop and re-evaluate my situation. The ridge line had begun to thin out and had given way to a noticeable drop on either side, I felt that the center would provide adequate protection from cornices but in moving in that direction I would be directly below the previous slope and was worried about the avalanche danger. I stopped and took time to dig out a trench with my axe and perform a compression test. Not surprised to find that the snow pack indicated high stability but going off instinct I felt that I should call it a day and turned around for the return climb. Up until this point my error in route finding had caused no immediate problems, but as I previously described I was now one peak West of where I thought I was. By the time I made my way back across the ridges towards Point 12,850, my tracks were long blown over resulting in now reprieve in terms of route finding. Making my way up to the top of 12,850 which I my mind I had though was the first peak North of Grizzly... Cupid, I continued on to the North expecting to reach the top of the adjacent peak and head West back down to Loveland Pass. Along the climb of the next ridge I encountered two other climbers on their way down. We stopped to do the normal swap of stories and plans, and to our surprise we both relayed that we were heading back to the Loveland Pass trailhead, me going up, them down. We took some time to compare notes and fortunately the other group had a GPS device which they had used to mark the trailhead. Low and behold I was already too far north and moving away from the trailhead. As dire of a situation as it seems, I was really not in that bad of a position. I had already begun to question my direction as I didn't recognize the terrain and had made up my mind that if I couldn't find the trail leading West from the top of the following peak I would double back to the previous peak and retake inventory of my position. Though I failed to mention previously, on my descent from Cupid I ran into two additional climbers that I felt given the terrain would likely turn back near where I did and I was likely to encounter them again.

Given the current situation myself and the two hikers with the GPS decided that it would be safest to stick together until we made it back to the main trail up to 12,850. Shortly after the three of us ran into the other two of whom I had encountered and as I suspected they also had turned around near where I had. As I made my way back to the car atop Loveland pass I was surprised how much visibility had improved, now a few miles or so and quite surprised at the hoards of skiers and snowboarders now packing the top of the pass.

Reflecting on the day I decided that a GPS was mandatory for future trips. In the topo above the red line shows my digression from the planned route.

Additional Photos

Reflections

Climbing a mountain is about putting yourself in adverse conditions whether technical 5.9 routes or 5 mile approaches. It's not about being the first or climbing higher than another because truly, others cannot be the metric by which you measure your achievement.

They lack a sense of forgiveness forcing you to become more realistic or in a very real sense, true to yourself. At times while being faced with decisions that carry very final immediate consequences you perform at the peak of endurance, mental strength, nirvana.

Andrews Glacier - Nov. 22, 2008

Despite snowy slopes increasing as Fall begins to look more like Winter, my obsession with reaching difficult places has not subsided and in fact has grown. Due in part to the idea that one of the primary driving forces behind my enjoyment of these ventures is rooted in overcoming adverse conditions, so as the season adds to the complexity of mountaineering it also throws fuel on the fire.

Over the past few weeks I've been aching to purchase an ice axe and crampons so that I can continue to gain mountaineering experience, specifically winter mountaineering and now the time is right. For the axe I choose Black Diamond Raven, light and rough textured as apposed to the Raven pro which is smooth textured. For my particular application I'm interested in a mountaineering axe rather then a technical axe although undoubtedly at some point I'll probably want to get into technical ice climbing as well, but for the time being I'm doing mostly solo ventures and have no need to technical gear. As for the crampons, the same holds true... nothing specifically designed for technical climbing but in the case of weight I opted for the heavier of the options (non aluminum), finally to fit my boots I required hybrid or newmatic style attachments. I could have went for completely strap on style but I felt that hybrids provided a little more secure fit.

With axe and crampons in tow I once again returned to the Bear Lake trail head in Rocky Mountain National Park, not so much due to the familiarity of the location but because it's easily accessible with my 2wd passenger car and the many destinations available from this starting point. Today I was going to make an attempt on Andrews Glacier, clearly visible on the ridge line from Lock Vale as seen from a previous trip made in October to Sky Pond.


Andrews Glacier is considered to be a good training ground for the techniques of glacial and snow travel such as self arrest, which is obviously the action of stopping yourself from continuing to slide or more extremely fall downward in a situation where you lose footing on a snow or ice covered slope. Self belay, which a rock climber friend of mine once me gave me a confused stare when mentioned is specific to winter mountaineering and is merely a technique of walking or moderate climbing where your axe is used as a temporary point of protection as you ascent and provides an anchor against a fall. Keeping in mind that in such a case a "fall" is not like a fall when rock climbing where you sail through mid air until caught by a rope or impact below in very bad situation but rather a fall is brought on by a mere loss of traction. In other words you may be on a slope that's only 25 degrees but merely slipping can cause you to slide uncontrollably to a great distance below. Additionally, Andrews glacier is considered to be a safer (relatively) climb as its slope is mostly between 22 and 30 degrees and thus has lower avalanche danger.

When I arrived at Bear Lake I was surprised at the number of other hikers/climbers who had also chosen to head out on this trail. Seeing that many were carrying technical axes and ropes I recalled my previous trip to Black Lake and the sheer wall adjacent to it which at the time was partially covered by a frozen waterfall, many of these climbers were likely heading there or to Taylor glacier which is also accessible from above Sky Pond. I set off up the Trail continuing past Berthoud falls along the now quite familiar path, passing the junction where the trail breaks towards the Boulder Field below Longs Peak and onward until a half mile or so south of Loch Vale where the path heads North towards the glacier. From here the trail began to drastically ascend as I postholed up through the trees towards The Gash, a narrow channel between Andrews Pass and Otis Peak. To this point I had been following tracks set in the snow previous to me but obviously not from today. I was quite thankful to have a bit of a course to follow. Not in anyway was I worried that I wouldn't find my destination but it's psychologically easier to follow the path than it is to feel assured that you're continuing in the right direction.

Now around 11:30am I reach my first major decision point in The Gash as the path upward broke into two options, to left I could continue up navigating through significantly less steep rockier terrain or continue right up a steep snow slab. Ultimately I chose to go right as slab was not large enough to provide any real avalanche danger and moreover would make for a less decisive line up the slope. For a few moments I made my way up the slab over snow that had no problem supporting my weight without failing, but traction as I climbed was becoming an increasing problem so I found a large exposed rock that I could perch on and dawn my crampons and axe. It was now that I caught the first glimpse of other people since I had set out on trail from my car. Two hikers whom were quite a ways down from me in The Gash and appeared as no more than moving colored dots. With gear in hand and on foot I continued up the slope with an unanticipated ease, expecting an awkwardness of walking on 12, one inch spikes I found it quite easy to kick step and make my line up the angle in ease. As I ascended I frequently looked back to gauge the distance towards the other hikers and take note of the path they chose to continue up, but as I approached the midpoint of the slope I noticed that they decided to turn around and head back down. Coming this far into the wilderness and as close to the glacier with no other real destination to be found I can't help thinking that the sight of me climbing the slope with an ice axe may have forced them to second guess their plan to continue on... this of course was probably the result of my ego inflation brought on by the ascent of a slope with snow tools.


Since reaching the Northern end of Loch Vale, Andrews Glacier had been obscured from view by Andrews Pass and the slope that was now challenging my endurance. As I achieved my own little mini summit of what had been the greatest challenge so far I was awestruck by the site of the glacier which was now vastly filled in with the plume of blown snow and was much larger than any photos I'd seen.


Standing at Andrews Tarn and reveling in the sight of Andrews Glacier I now began to question my gumption to continue upward, after approximately five miles I was facing what was probably going to be the largest challenge of the trip. The time was around 1:00pm I thought to myself, I've made it this far, had some fun with my crampons and axe, and wondered if I really needed to go any further. But it wasn't excuses or settling for less than my goals that got me here. Now this wasn't the kind of summit fever thinking that gets people in over their heads. This was me rationalizing that I could do it. The weather was great, I was still feeling energetic and in good spirits so I continued on deciding that I was going attempt to climb the left edge close to the rock line. This was for a few reasons, the glacier had been described as being between 22 and 30 degrees thus safe from avalanche danger. Being later in the fall the area had seen a good amount of snow which at this altitude was blown from the adjacent peek and settled into the groove of the glacier and made the slope closer to 45 degrees along the center line, optimal for avalanches. Additionally and previous to even starting out on this trip was the concern for crevasses, although not a large glacier I had seen photos of a 12 foot deep crevasse that spanned nearly the entire glacier. Now cover with snow therein lies the potential to fall into hole which is concealed by blown snow. Being alone I obviously wasn't going be roped up so I figured my safest bet would be to stick to the edge of the rock line where the depth of snow below me would be inches rather than feet.


Making my way up the glacier it became immediately apparent that crampons, at least at this time of year were mandatory. Each step echoing the sound of spikes ripping into ice, similar to the sound of biting down on an ice cube. Nearly half way up I paused to document the angle of the climb as well as my path ascended thus far. An un-arrested slide from here would most definitely end in a sudden meeting with the rocks below.




As I neared the top I stopped to snap a few shots of the view upwards.


Finally, hard work had payed off and I reached the flat wind scoured Continental divide to be immediately met by winds that made it very difficult to stand. After getting some shots of the of the top and few of the Loch Vale below, where hours ago I stood pondering if I was going to make it here I decided it was time to head back.



The climb down which potentially could be very difficult considering what it took to get up, to the contrary was very easy. Well earned and deserved I glissaded down in about ten minutes the path that took around and hour to climb. As with my previous trip as I descended I encountered what I saw as completely dangerous behavior from fellow hikers. This time below at Andrews tarn two people were making their way across the frozen lake below. Now when I describe what I do on these hikes and climbs to people like my parents, I'm frequently met with contempt as if what I'm doing is running naively into the woods on some adrenaline fueled odyssey, throwing caution to the wind in order to satisfy some craving to triumph over danger. Yes while much of what I'm doing is dangerous and at time has very serious consequences, many people fail to realize that for every day I spend doing these things, I spend countless hours researching, planning and learning as much as possible about what will keep me alive not only under normal circumstances but in cases of emergency. Like how to build a shelter, what plants to eat, how to make a splint, how to navigate using a compass (not that it's only for emergencies), and the list goes on... but I digress, in the case of the two hikers below I found it incredibly dangerous to be walking on the frozen lake, call me paranoid but unless I'm in Fargo I really don't feel comfortable walking on a frozen lake.
Additional Photos

Black Lake - Nov 8, 2008

The weekend following my trip to Twin Sisters I decided to head to Rocky Mountain National Park for my first taste of winter conditions and give my new winter boots a good test run. With weather getting colder and snow becoming a progressively constant fixture I decided it was time to invest in a good set of winter mountaineer boots. After researching and trying many different styles, weights, etc. I opted for La Sportiva Trengo S EVO GTX, a complicated name for a super lite leather and Gortex combo. I chose these for many reasons, the primary being weight, fit, and hybrid crampon compatibility. Initially I was a little concerned with the warmth that the boots could provide given that these and simalar boots have been reviewed and recommended as 3 season boots whereas double plastics like Scarpa Inverno would fit the bill for winter climbs including technical ice. I have to say I'm quite satisfied with the warmth that these boots provide, in fact I have a hard time thinking of an instance at least in Colorado that these boots wouldn't be sufficiently warm. Unless the plan is sub zero temps for an extended duration... like days, these work fine.


Anyway, Black Lake and winter weather was the plan for this day. I had heard that this is a pretty good hike and gets a little more strenuous towards the end of the approach to the lake. From the image it's obvious that this was a lengthy hike as well. At around 8:00am I set off into the trees and across frozen track and fresh snow. To my surprise I was treading over recent cut tracks which were obviously set earlier this morning. For the most part this was a fairly non-photogenic hike moving in and out of the trees and along a few lake sides.

After about two and a half hours I made my way nearly to the lake and was beginning to work my way above the tree line
when I encountered two sets of other hikers which were responsibly for cutting the trail I had been on. Following some short conversation we parted ways, the two groups going down as continued up, stopped at this point I also felt this was a good opportunity to dawn my gaiters as the snow was now around thigh deep. As I continued on the trees began to give way to an amazing view of clouds coming over the ridge line that I was approaching.

As I approached Black Lake I began to realize why it's named Black Lake, the water appearing nearly black. After resting briefly I was still yearning for more so I decided to continue on ascending up through a gully between a nearly sheer wall on the opposite side of the lake and Half mountain to my East.


Reaching the top of the gully I found a spectacular view of the coming clouds over the distant rugged ridge line. This view had sparked my interest and I later decided to check out what exactly I was looking at and to my complete astonishment this was the Keyboard of the Winds directly south of longs peak and I was generally just West of the Trough on the West side of Longs. Realizing this now I understand just how close I was to the Homestretch on longs and have made a commitment to return to this location to camp and finally ascend Longs via thie trough next spring.
By now I had continued up along the ridge opposite Black Lake as I had approached, considering the time now near 1:30pm and the ominous weather coming from the South I decided to head back, but as true to my nature I needed a little more excitement so I decided to descend the rock wall back to the lake. This turned out to be a length commitment as I carefully chose my line down the modest class 4 face.
Once I reached the bottom of the rock wall the trip once again returned to a trail of endurance as it typically is, remembering that I now am roughly 3 hours from my car. For the most part, the trip back was a snow trudging trip which provided ample opportunity to listen and learn from the environment, an opportunity to become closer to my goals and gain better understanding of myself.

An additional noteworthy point along this trip was on the descent as I approached the lake just South of the Loch Vale trail junction, I ran into a cute young couple... funny I call them young as they must be in their early 20's or so. The guy asked me "Is this it? Is this the lake?" I responded that I wasn't sure of the lake's name but it's the last until Black Lake, unless you're planning on going up there as I pointed up towards the ridge that I had just come down which was now barely visible through the storm that I felt was good reason to head back. The guy assured me no, they were not planning to go any further plus both were quite preoccupied with the difference in our dress, me with boots, gaiters, balaclava, heavy gloves, etc. they with jeans and possibly a leather coat between them. They explained that they were not as prepared to venture further as I was. I agreed proclaiming that the weather "up there" is quite a bit colder than "down here". What I didn't mention was that despite that they realized, or at least I had given them reason to not continue further, in my opinion they were both grossly under prepared for conditions even where they were. By my estimation we were now at least an hour, hour and a half from the trail head and given a situation where the weather changed drastically for the worse, this was more than enough time to create a very serious situation. I'm not an advocate of venturing into the woods unprepared, layers, water, etc. but to me I consider it a general rule that if in easy terrain you don't venture far enough out that you can't return safely in under the time that it takes for the situation to become serious. Now I'm aware that the weather can become serious in a matter of minutes, and by serious I mean white out conditions and severe temperature drop, but the situation doesn't become dire for at least an hour or so in this case as you can still tough it out until you reach safety. In the case of these two hikers, which by my account are still just around an hour and a half from safety (in best conditions) could easily become disoriented or even exhausted trying to make their way back... in less time than it would take to enter hypothermia.
Additional Photos

Twin Sisters Peaks - Nov. 3, 2008

Still on vacation and two days after the trip to Evans I decided to hike up Twin Sisters Peaks. The hike came highly recommended by my hiking buddy Ron. The weather was going to be great this day and it given it was a Monday I could expect less than excessive trail traffic on what would probably be an extremely busy weekend trail.




Though I had planned on getting a very early start, this day I had a harder time than normal getting out of bed and didn't make it out on to the trail until after 9:00 am. Forgetting my map at home, which I know is a cardinal sin and my late start made me a little nervous about the distance I was going to be traveling to the summit having never done this hike before. Again the weather was great and being this late in the season afternoon thunder storms were probably less likely than a snow storm, but nevertheless I was a bit concerned about the possibility for weather change and made for the summit at just short of a jogging pace. Realistically though Twin Sisters Peaks are located for the most part just outside the Eastern edge of Rock Mountain National Park, separated by highway 7 from Mt. Meeker and Longs Peak which unless on the East side of the peaks are always visible from the hike so even if losing sense of direction without a map or compass it would be hard to be entirely lost. I could more or less just head downhill and would eventually end up on highway 7.

Heading up the trail through a beautifully carved path through the trees the trail gave many opportunities for spectacular views of the Northeast face of Longs Peak eventually giving way to progressively more difficult terrain as the summit approached.


Making my way to the summit of the first of the two summits that make up the Twin Sisters Peaks the views of Longs Peak were what I imagine the best to be had without actually being on the Peak itself.


Having now made it to the summit of the first peak and from what I could tell the end of any clear cut trail, I was a little in need for some additional excitement so decided to attempt to climb down the South side of the first peak and up the second.


After down climbing the class 3 South face of the first peak I decided to break for lunch and snap some more shots of Longs Peak.


By now the time was near 2:00pm and some ominous weather looked to be approaching from the West over Longs. Given the time of day and the additional climb that I must now make back up over the first of the two peaks I decided that I should probably call it a day and head back. The decent as with the ascent was quite easy although now knowing the distance to travel I set a much more leisurely pace arriving back at the car in nearly an hour from the summit of the first Peak. In no way a disappointing day but definitely a beginners hike... which I suppose in terms of days spent hiking I would be but in terms of experience I'm now quite past.
Additional Photos

Mt. Evans (West Face), 14,264 Ft. - Nov. 1, 2008

Now that the weather has begun to head towards the winter side Ron has lost the desire to go stomping up the mountains in knee deep snow and 20 degree temperatures. I've yet to be discouraged so this weekend which happened to be an extended one for me due to a much needed vacation, I decided to head up and make an attempt on Mt. Evans via its
west face.


Mt. Evans like Pikes Peak is one of the two Colorado 14er's that you can drive to or nearly to the summit. It must be frustrating and glorifying at the same time to to spend all day grinding up a mountain to finally reach the summit and find minivans full of families taking pictures and tossing rock down into the pit you just climbed out of. But alas this time of year at least in the case of Mt. Evans, the road up to the summit is closed, which leaves you with a few winter/fall options. The standard ascent of Evens starts from Summit Lake and can be considered a low challenge day hike. With the closure of the road leading up to summit lake this adds an additional 14 miles to the overall climb. With that in mind I decided that an ascent via the West face, the gully between Mt. Spalding and the Sawtooth was in order. Seen below on the far left of the picture.




When I arrived at the trail head, as with the day I ascended Bierstadt I found many more people than expected. I loaded up my pack, the first hike in my new Marmot pack that I purchased just for the added room for winter layering and carrying of winter tools. For a short while I followed the standard trail up towards Bierstadt, passing over the multiple bridges that span the trip through the willows. A short distance past a large rock on the left of the trail I chose a spot to make a break and headed off towards the base of the gully separating the Sawtooth and Mt. Spalding. For the entire hike up to the gully I was bushwacking through thick willows, around the base of the north face of Bierstadt, coming to a small beaver pond which gave me a full view of the gully that I was about to climb.




Shortly after crossing a beaver dam I had full view of the true height of the gully and began my ascent. I attempted to skirt to the left of the gully climbing the adjacent side of Mt. Spalding for as much of the ascent as possible, this maybe in vain but seemed logical to me that the higher I could get on the side of Spalding the shorter distance I would have to scramble up the talus in the center of the gully. Not entirely sure if this helped or hindered the approach significantly but after about two thirds of the ascent the grade grew enough that I had no choice but to drop into and begin ascending the gully directly.


The remaining portion of climbing the gully could be described as vigorous and after a short time I eventually reached the top to be greeted by a large snow filled cirque with the summit of Spalding to the left the top ridge of the Sawtooth to the left and a false summit of Evans straight ahead. At this point the weaker voice in my head was telling me that this might be a good place to turn around, knowing that more than a mile of climbing was still ahead and climbing the gully was much more difficult than expected. The other voice, the one that puts me into these places and feeds the soul was compelling me to push on. After coming so far I felt that it would be a shame to turn back so I marched on, up towards the top of the classic snow route overlooking Summit Lake. With the road to Summit Lake closed this late in the year and unplowed the view of the lake was quite a spectacle.


From here I followed a cairned route just below the south face of the ridge, pausing frequently to take pictures of Bierstadt and the Sawtooth.


After around another hour I approached the summit and the upper parking lot which during the warmer seasons boast many day tourist who drive to near the summit then make the final 50 Ft. walk to the summit to take in the grand views of Summit Lake, Bierstadt and the Sawtooth. Quite exhausted and hungry I stopped for lunch and an obligatory summit photo, Bierstadt in the background.


Just past four hours after my start I headed back for the long descent back to the parking lot, again stopping frequently to snap photos of the journey. At the top of the gully I took the opportunity to document the distance that I had traveled from the parking lot and during that time saw the first glimpse of other hikers since breaking from the Bierstadt trail. A man a woman on just reaching the top of the gully, obviously exhausted from the ascent. We briefly stopped to swap stories of the climb, these two also exclaiming their inner voice questioning whether to continue on just as I had. Given the time of the day, now somewhere around 2 - 2:30, I questioned to myself their ability to reach the summit and make the return trip to the parking lot within the remaining hours of light.


Downhill travel is both a blessing and a curse, in exchange for the lung burning stairmaster routine you get knee grinding, ankle crunching impact. On this descent I learned two lessons about the type and quality of hiking shoes. My shoes, which are quality shoes and have served me well, taught me the value of ankle support and weather proofing. My shoes low on the ankles don't provide much for support as they don't immobilize lateral movement and as I came to find when I worked my back the willows over the now melted boggy areas, the shoes aren't as water resistant as I would like and by the time I reached the parking lot my shoes were soaked and feet were cold. Fortunately I had a spare pair of socks. Overall the climb was great, I could check another 14er off the list and had decided that winter boots were much higher on the priority list.

Additional Photos