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The Confidence Trap: Castle-Conundrum

March 14, 2009

Story

I had originally hoped to climb Castle & Conundrum on my July trip to do South Maroon Bell, but that barely successful effort was so exhausting that I had to go home without even an attempt.

My plan was to return in August to do Castle and Conundrum via the Montezuma Basin after an early morning drive from Boulder. Everything went perfectly, and I arrived at the Castle Creek trailhead right at 7am, as planned.

The rest of the day would not be so cooperative.

The guidebook said to drive up the 4WD road for 2.3 miles to a fork and take the right fork to Montezuma Mine.  At 7:30am, I was over 3 miles up the road with no sign of a fork.  Some bad advice, too much faith in a guidebook, and a couple turnarounds left me 1.5 hours behind schedule before I started hiking from 11,000 feet at 9am.  I found the Montezuma fork 200 yards beyond my first turnaround.

I finished the 1,800′ and 2 miles to the 4WD parking lot at 10:30pm, when I met a couple that had just finished Conundrum.  They said they used the snowfield for a “traverse and climb to the saddle between the summits.”  Since I didn’t have an ice axe, I decided to continue with the Northeast Ridge route; but I made a mental note to consider a snowy descent.  Later, when I could see the snowfield clearly, I saw tracks along the right side of the field skirting the two giant parallel crevasses that spanned the snowfield.

The route finding went easily as cairns were plentiful and the route followed the path of least resistance.  I reached the summit of Castle at 11:45am.  And after a 30-minute break, I left for Conundrum, reaching the northern summit at 1pm.

Castle Peak seen from Conundrum

Castle Peak seen from Conundrum

As I descended from Conundrum, I looked down into the snowfield and considered how much faster it would go than a return to Castle.  I was tempted into taking a look.  As I descended from the saddle, I found the slope steep and loose; I dreaded reclimbing it.  When I reached the “snow” field, I discovered solid ice, and the “tracks” I had seen from the Northeast ridge of Castle were watermarks (grooves) from water running down the face of the snowfield.  At that moment, I considered backing off, but thought I would at least see if I could figure out where the couple had gone.

The only possibility for a “traverse” was via the flat bottom of the upper giant crevasse. As I neared the end of the crevasse, I could see it ended 40 feet short of the rocks. So that wouldn’t work, but I then found another option.  Directly below me was a half-pipe, gouged by water running over the ice, which dropped into the lower crevasse that did reach the rocks.  With too little thought, I decided to give it a try instead of going back up the steep, loose dirt to the saddle.

Since the ice slope was moderate, I figured I could lower myself using rocks like axes to chop holds for my hands and by jamming my feet into the rocky, narrow bottom.  Chopping holds in ice was hard work; and, at first, my concern was the time expenditure, but that soon changed.  The lower I got, the steeper the slope became.  If I slipped, I would be dashed on the rocks in the lower crevasse or I would bounce out of the crevasse and accelerate into the talus 200 feet further below.   And to make matters worse, I could now see that the crevasse bottom was far below the bottom of the half-pipe.  At this point, I finally realized that I had made a terrible mistake.  But I was still alive and was determined to stay that way.  I became even more deliberate in my hold chopping.

When I reached the last 5 feet (after which the half-pipe became too steep), I stopped to consider my situation.  I could see down into the crevasse; it was a 4-foot wide crack filled with large and small rocks with a 2-foot tall lip on the lower side.  I could not lower myself out of the bottom because there was no way to hold on.  If I let myself simply slide out, I would fall into the section of the crevasse that held the largest rocks.  If I jumped out too far, I might miss the crevasse and continue at speed down the ice slope to the rocks.  The only solution was to jump out of the half-pipe to section filled with smaller rocks, somehow land squarely, and then roll over to absorb some of the energy of my body falling 15 feet traveling 7 feet per second per second.

The last problem I considered was the jump takeoff.  I was concerned about my ability to control the jump, since I was jumping from inclined ice.  I figured that if I slipped as I jumped, I might hit headfirst.  I decided to take a few extra seconds and chop out the best holds of the day, and then use my rock hand axes as stabilizers to jump using arms and legs simultaneously (like some giant, crazy inverted crab) out of the half-pipe and down into the crevasse.

At this point, my mind had gone into some kind of detached state.  I felt no fear, but was rather mechanical about the situation.  Some part of my mind knew what to do and set about to do it, while some other part of me was watching.  When the holds were ready, I jumped without another moments thought.  I didn’t think about how to jump or even run through it once in my mind to see myself doing it well.  No power of positive thinking; no worrying; I just jumped.

I seemed to hit instantly, but once I landed everything seemed to go into super slow motion.  As I landed, I realized that I had made it, and I was pleased.  In the next instant I was rolling over to the left, just as I had thought to finish the landing.  This also pleased me, as I wasn’t thinking about what I was supposed to do nor was I in control of anything.  As I started coming back into real time, I was consumed with a wave of adrenaline sickness.  I was surprised by its presence since I had only ever felt it after extreme exertions, and I started to think about how it could have happened but lost the train of thought.  I began to suspect I didn’t get hurt.  All of this was in the first 2 seconds after landing.

As my consciousness hit real-time, I started noticing more pain and blood.  My hands and forearms were hurting and bleeding, probably from hitting the ground on the initial hard landing.  As I lay on my side trying not to vomit, I got out my bandages out of my pack and taped my bleeding fingers.  The nausea feeling subsided after about 5 minutes, and then I stood up to see how well my legs worked.  I had made it.

My improbable route down the snowfield

My improbable route down the snowfield

The hike out and the drive home went slowly due to a sprained ankle, and gave me a lot of time to thing about the mistakes I had made.  I felt I had been given another chance to become a smarter climber.  I promised to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Complications

  • A late start, due to problems finding the correct road, created a lasting sense of urgency
  • Received route information from unreliable sources
  • I was alone

Mistakes

(1) Prepared badly

  • Didn’t have any knowledge of the snowfield prior to starting the hike.

(2) Made several bad decisions along the way due to flaws & biases in my thinking.

  1. Confirming Evidence Trap:  By heading down to the snowfield from the saddle, I had implicitly decided to descend that way.  I kept finding reasons to continue and discounting reasons to go back.
  2. Optimism Bias:  I felt optimistic about being able to overcome any unknown obstacles.  As a result, I felt that moving ahead was less risky than retreating back over the known difficulties.  Even as progress became harder, I felt the difficulties would end, and the difficulties I continued to pass reinforced the notion of a dangerous retreat.
  3. Denial Bias:  I failed to consider what might happen if I slipped until I was fully committed to the half-pipe.  If I had paused for a moment of consideration, I would have gone back to the saddle.

How I Got Lucky

  1. Against all odds, I didn’t slip down the half-pipe
  2. Against all odds, I didn’t get badly injured jumping 15 feet into a pile of rocks

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The Great Cirque: Meeker to Longs traverse

March 10, 2009

The idea for the Mt. Meeker to Long’s Peak traverse came to me last December after climbing Mt. Meeker on a clear, cool morning.  Sitting on the Meeker summit rock, I looked over the Loft to Longs Peak and saw the potential for a beautiful traverse.  At that moment, I decided I would come back to bag the two-summit traverse.  The idea eventually grew into a quest to bag “Colorado’s greatest mountain cirque” (Roach).

Of course it is a long bit of hiking, but there is also a short technical obstacle to overcome:  Mt Meeker and Longs Peak are separated by “The Notch”.  The Notch is a gap in the rock approximately 75′ deep at the ridgeline and which continues as a deep and steep gully down each side of the mountain.

Nevertheless, where there’s a will . . .

 

The Great Circ Route

The Great Circ Route

 

Brian and I were recovering from a full summer of rock climbing and related injuries, so I was able to convince Brian to do an alpine hike.  To do the entire cirque, we chose to start the loop at the Longs Peak  cut-off to Chasm Lake, which we would take toward the Mt. Meeker East Ridge, and after summiting on Meeker and then Longs, we’d return via the Boulderfield (about a 5 mile loop).

In total, the Great Cirque trek would take approximately 12 hours including the hike from and to the parking lot and would cover approximately 15 miles and an elevation gain of approximately 5700′.

Our plan had eight steps:

  1. Hike from Longs Ranger station toward Longs to Chasm Lake cutoff
  2. Hike past Chasm Lake and up through Iron Gates (class 2) approach to Mt. Meeker East Ridge
  3. Traverse Mt. Meeker ridge (class 3) to summit
  4. Descend to Loft & hike (class 2) to high point on Loft north side
  5. Descend Gorrells Traverse route (4th Class crack system) to Notch gully and ascend to Notch high point (class 4), and then climb to Longs ridge and summit using the 5th class rock finish to the Notch Coulior route
  6. Descend Longs North face via Cables route (two single rope rappels) to Chasm View
  7. Hike to Boulder Field
  8. Hike around Lady Mount Washington to complete circuit at Chasm Lake cutoff

Alternatives to avoid carrying ropes and difficult scrambling:

  1. Take Clark’s Arrow from Loft to join Keyhole route – avoid 4th class chimney and technical pitch
  2. Take Keyhole route from Long’s summit back to Boulderfield – avoid rappels

Time table:

  • Start hiking – 4am
  • Reach bottom of Iron Gates – 7am (first light)
  • Mt. Meeker summit – 9am
  • Long’s Peak summit – Noon
  • Reach car – 4pm

Report

Brian picked me up at 3am.  I was ready to go when he arrived, for a change, and we immediately headed out of Boulder for Lyons, and then the Long’s Peak Ranger Station parking lot.  We arrived just before 4am to find a parking space right in front.  A good omen.  The cold weather a week earlier must have suspended the weekend cattle drive for Longs Peak.

We powered up the trail needing only long underwear to stay warm despite the high winds and temperatures in the 30’s.  Around 5:30, still an hour or so before dawn, we reached a popular rest stop, the fork to Chasm Lake (left) or the Boulderfield (right).  The frigid winds eliminated any thought of a rest and we hurried onward toward  Chasm Lake to find some shelter.  We found a suitable rock formation approximately 300 yards further where we could stop to put on fleece and wind jackets.  My numb fingers made me regret leaving my regular gloves at home, and I would later find another reason to regret bringing only fingerless gloves.

The trail from the Ranger Hut below the Ship’s Prow (rock formation which separates the canyons below Mt. Meeker to the left and Long’s Peak & Chasm Lake to the right) to the Iron Gates is indistinct and generally over talus.  We knew the Iron Gates gully ran up the left of the buttress which is to the left of Cathedral Buttress (the awe inspiring buttress which runs down from the Mt. Meeker summit to the canyon floor), but of course this is difficult to see in the twilight.  Fortunately, a moment of hesitation allowed the sunrise to show us the path.

The Iron Gates gully proved to be a wonderful route to the Mt. Meeker East Ridge.  At the top of the 2nd class gully, a short 3rd class scramble brought us to the ridge and the endless vistas of the Eastern and Southern horizons. More importantly, an eastern view brought us exposure to the sun on a cold windy morning.

We paused to enjoy the radiation, eat a quick snack and apply sunscreen. After a few minutes, we continued on our quest.  This leg of the cirque led us west up the ridge toward the Mt. Meeker summit.  The easiest path was the ridgeline itself, which slopes about 20 degrees to the south (left) and 90 degrees to the north (right).  With the wind gusting up to 40 mph, we took care to avoid becoming a cliff diver and wasting all our efforts.

 

Our route from Meeker

Our route from Meeker

 

In a couple places, the traverse exhibited a common 4th class difficulty: it was 5th class without good route finding instincts.  We reached the summit at 9am with increased respect for the smaller sister of the mighty Longs Peak.  The summit itself is an unlikely square block sitting about 4 feet higher than the surrounding rock.  Underneath the block is an alcove that provided shelter from the wind and a nice spot for another snack.

 

The approach to and descent into the hidden Notch (dotted portion), then the ascent to the summit

The approach to and descent into the hidden Notch (dotted portion), then the ascent to the summit

 

We continued the traverse across the ridge and then down to the Loft, following the natural line.  In order to find Gorrells Traverse route on the far side of the Loft, we angled toward the high point (North end) of the Loft that forms one side of the Notch.  The Notch separates the Loft from Long’s Peak and prevents the easy hike to Long’s summit.

Gorrells Traverse route is a 4th class crack system  that descends into the Notch gully, SW side.

Per Rossiter’s guide book, RMNP: The High Peaks:

Hike NW to the highpoint of the SE ridge above The Notch. Descend to the west and locate cairns that mark the tops of two chimneys.  Downclimb the north chimney for about 200 feet to a broken platform that is about 100 feet above the gully leading up to The Notch.  Rappel into the gully from the north end of the platform or traverse up and left toward The Notch until it is possible to scramble down into the gully.

 

Gorrells Traverse

Gorrells Traverse. Photo from a later trip.

 

As in all guide book ratings, the rating is right if your technique and route finding is up to snuff.  There is also well-used rappel anchor for the unsure. We jammed down the cracks:  blind feet and bomber hands.   I got a tear in my wind jacket for the effort.  At the bottom of the first downclimb, we traversed right and slightly uphill to reach another gully which we downclimbed.  It was quite exposed but went rather easily as well.  From the bottom of the downclimb, we turned right and scrambled up to reach the top of the Notch.

 

Our route from the Notch to Longs Peak summit

Our route from the Notch to Longs Peak summit. Photo from earlier trip.

 

From the top of the Notch, we could see down the Notch Couloir toward the Broadway Ledge.  We also speculated on the feasibility of a tyrrolian traverse across the Notch without conclusion.  Since the rock was still non-technical at that point, we continued scrambling and moved out of the Notch toward the summit ridge.  We got to within 90 feet of the ridge before we ran out of scrambling terrain.

Since we brought rock gear, we didn’t feel compelled to stay with the Notch Couloir route (rated 5.2); in fact, we specifically wanted to find something more interesting…more memorable.  Brian spotted a rappel anchor at the top of the Long’s side of the Notch, approximately 90 feet above us; we agreed to climb toward it over the moderate looking moves.

 

A view of the technical climb to reach the summit ridge

A view of the technical climb to reach the summit ridge

 

We roped up and Brian took off for the ridge, his hiking boots scraping on clean 5.5  rock.  Our “mini-rack” of climbing gear was sparse enough to fit in a coat pocket, but it turned out to be ideal for a short pitch at 14,000 ft. elevation.   Near the top, Brian decided to pull a roof directly above rather than take the obvious ramp to the left.  When I questioned his intentions (with a yell from below), he explained, “you’ll thank me.”  Later, after pulling over the top on monstrous buckets, I did.

All that was left was the short but interesting ridge scramble and then a walk to the summit marker, which we reached at 11:54am.  We rested in luxurious bivy site and congratulated ourselves for a great trek.  It was, after all, quite literally all downhill from there.

 

Our descent route to the Boulderfield

Our descent route to the Boulderfield. Photo from later trip.

 

The descent through the Cable Route was interesting as a result of snow and ice adding frictionless treachery to the loose rocks in our path.  I lost my concentration on a relatively flat section and slipped on the ice.  My fall on the rock sheared off the front half of my right thumbnail.  This shockingly painful and bloody injury would cause me considerable grief during the rappels to come.  We scrambled down to the lower rappel anchors and made it to the Boulderfield in good time.

The hike out of the Boulderfield is always a death march, but this time I felt so good about the climb that I didn’t mind it at all. We reached the car at 4pm and drove into Lyons for some Mexican food.

It was all good, I just shouldn’t have ordered fajitas. They’re too hard to roll with just one hand!

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A Long Day in The Wilsons

March 9, 2009

On August 5, 2003 I made the long drive to Telluride for an attempt on Wilson Peak, Mt. Wilson and El Diente, as a group commonly known as “The Wilsons”.  These peaks potentially represented numbers 49, 50 & 51 of my personal count of climbed official and unofficial Colorado peaks over 14,000 feet in elevation (58 in total, according to my tally).

The drive down via Grand Junction was a long, tedious effort.  I listened to Paul Simon’s greatest hits 3 times for a total of 30 times so far this summer, all the while thinking that I really must get another CD.  I got so desperate for distraction that I even listened to a bit of talk radio.  But once the novelty wore off, I preferred silence to the noise of thin, simplistic opinions based on nothing.

In another part of my mind, I was amazed at the varied terrain of Colorado with water, sand and rock mixed in various proportions to create a multitude of settings.  This thinking helped me to settle into my adventure.  Once I hit Rifle, my overall mood shifted away from the stress of preparing for and executing the trip and toward the enjoyment of my freedom and adventure.  I had wonderful sense of total freedom that I have been lucky enough to feel a few times in my life.  While collecting all the Colorado Fourteeners had begun to feel like work, the adventure of exploring different parts of Colorado and being on my own won out.

Seven hours to reach the Silver Pick TH from Boulder left me a couple hours of daylight to prepare for the early morning climb and to eat my delicious two-Whopper dinner.  I was a bit disappointed not to find water at the trailhead;  I could see a dehydrated night coming 24 hours hence if I stayed a second night.

In planning for the climbs, I was mostly concerned about the 0.8 mile ridge connecting Mt. Wilson and El Diente.  I figured I could do the climbing bits, but was worried about the route-finding necessary to find those easy sections.  I initially considered not doing El Diente (not an official 14er), but quickly discarded that rationalization as a weakness that would not survive the trip home.  I ended up concluding that I would climb the two Wilsons and then move camp to Navajo Lake to allow a direct ascent of El Diente on the second day.

Still, I wanted to give myself the flexibility to do all three peaks in a day should the weather and my stamina remain good, so I left camp at 4:15am on the morning of August 6th.  And so a long day in the Wilsons began.

My route to collect "The Wilsons"

My route to collect "The Wilsons"

The 4×4 road to Silver Pick Mine was in excellent condition as it had been newly grated.  There was a mention of a “scenic shortcut” in Roach’s guidebook, but I decided that a hike in total darkness (no moon) needed an obvious trail and I elected to stay on the 4×4 road to its end.  Just after the 4×4 road ended (at the ruined stone building), I began hiking over talus, approximately aimed at the Rock of Ages Saddle (I could just barely make out a silhouette in the pre-dawn).

Roach makes mention of a trail switch-backing up the ridge west of the saddle, but I could not see any evidence of such a trail.  I crossed an old snow patch (no foot prints) and began moving over scree when I encountered dirt.  Looking up hill with the flashlight, I could see a 20-foot line of dirt aiming straight up the slope…no switchbacks, but some hope for a trail.  I ascended this line for approximately 300 feet to a beautiful trail aimed directly for the Rock of Ages saddle.

Leaving the Saddle, the trail stayed flat and moved quickly to the south side of the ridge.  After about 200 feet, the trail became indistinct (not quite light yet), but I could see the Wilson Peak – Gladstone Saddle and aimed for it over some large talus.

A view from Mt Wilson of my route to Wilson Peak

A view from Mt Wilson of my route to Wilson Peak

From the Gladstone saddle, the route moved left (northwest) through a class 3 cliff band (not hard, just some exposure) to reach a nice trail.  The trail moved quickly to the ridgeline and remains easy to follow.  A few scrambling moves in the 3rd class area added a bit of adventure to this short hike and I reached the summit at 7:30am.

Once on the summit (and not moving), I became aware of a sensation not felt in many months. My body started making uncontrolled, rapid, jerky movements just when I was trying to rest and enjoy the view.  It was cold and I was shivering in August.  I exchanged a dry shirt and fresh socks and put on my long pants and rain jacket; still I still could not tolerate it for long and shortly escaped back down the ridge.

My route to Mt Wilson, as seen from the Rock of Ages mine. Can also see the remaining storm clouds.

My route to Mt Wilson, as seen from the Rock of Ages mine.

Once I reached the Gladstone saddle, I looked around for a shortcut to Mt. Wilson; I didn’t want to go down 700-800 feet to the basin.  I decided I would contour around the eastern end of the basin underneath Gladstone to save the elevation.

In doing so, I believe I did save some effort, but the climbing was nasty; the talus/scree felt like a thousand refrigerators loosely piled atop each other on a foundation of broken dinner plates.  At each step, I felt as if the entire slope would come down on top of me.  Taking slow, balanced, and deliberate steps to avoid slides and be prepared for a quick lunge to avoid rolling refrigerators was mentally exhausting.  But moving slowly was physically restful, and I did eventually reach the Navajo glacier just below Mt. Wilsons north shoulder.

Oddly, the Navajo glacier really looks like a glacier:  ice with water running over the top.  I have only seen this once before, in an old snowfield between Castle and Conundrum that tried to kill me.  The water was clear and I was able to refill my water bottles with pleasant tasting water.  For future reference, the water I had gathered near the mine building ruins on the north side of Rock of Ages saddle (and taken up and down Wilson peak) tasted like a dead marmot’s guts were leaching into the water.  I couldn’t drink it.

With another 2 liters of water, I scrambled up the North shoulder of Mt. Wilson.  It was an excellent climb:  good exposure, solid rock, and easy route finding combined to create a true pleasure.   The last 50 feet was the icing on the cake:  a long reach and high step over a short knife-edge with my butt hanging over a 1000-foot drop.  The experience was good for warming my cold blood; yes, it was still cold at 11:30am.

I reached the summit and had to make a decision regarding El Diente.   I had made a pact with myself while climbing Mt. Wilson:  if I got good weather, I would use it to do the traverse.  I figured the cold temperatures would lower the chance of thunderstorms.  I ate my lunch while studing the weather for signs that the weather would hold long enough.

A view of El Diente and the traverse from Mt Wilson

A view of El Diente and the traverse from Mt Wilson

Unfortunately, the clouds were darkening and moving in my direction.  I gambled that the storm would miss the Wilson Group to the southeast and decided to go for it.  Exiting the summit around noon, I began the ridge with a full sense of thrill.

Ah, the sweet feeling of life fully perceived only when death is near.  An extended stay within the reach of death will bring a low-brain awareness of life’s preciousness and an increase in the capabilities of the mind and body.  As has happened so many times, my mind became clearer and better focused on the work at hand; my body became more coordinated…better balance, higher pain tolerance, more confident movement over difficult moves.  It was the easiest climbing of the day.  Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.

I stayed on the ridge whenever possible and moved a bit lower to the south when necessary to avoid difficulties such as drop-offs or gendarmes.  The first few hundred feet were well described by Roach and the last 2/3rds of the route was well cairned; I didn’t have any route finding difficulties.  But to spice things up a bit, the weather started worsening just after I passed the crux.

The "Organ Pipes"

The "Organ Pipes"

The thunderheads, which I thought would miss me, only did so by one mile.  Since lightning can hit from 15 miles away, it wasn’t enough.  The lightning (when I took a moment to look) and thunder were quite spectacular; I managed to get a count of 30 (between flash and thunder) early in the ridge crossing, but was down to 5 at one point.  With additional dark clouds forming up-wind and likely rain moving my way, I was flat-out running across parts of the ridge that permitted such behavior.   All the while I was listening for my axe to start humming.

I would have made the traverse in approximately 1.5 hours except for the numerous delays I took to study the weather and look for signs of improvement.   Near the summit ridge of El Diente, I finally decided that the weather was not going to get better before it got worse and I took off for the summit at top speed.  I reached the summit just after 2pm and stayed only to sign the register.

My descent from El Diente

My descent from El Diente, seen from Wilson Peak

The fasted way down was the El Diente north slopes route.  I’d heard it was dirty, but it was in the guidebook.  How bad could it be?  It was a nightmare.  Whoever said it was a summer route should be shot.  It might be possible to ascend the route with your sanity intact, but a descent is intolerable.  The descent took forever as I reversed the natural order of things and descended through hell into heaven (the basin).  I finally reached the bottom, and more water, at 4pm.

The creek running though the basin was fed by the Navajo glacier and continued to be of good quality.   And the storms were gone, so I could take a few minutes to rest and recover my sanity.

By the time I was rested, hydrated and ready to continue it was nearing 5pm and I still had to get over the Rock of Ages pass.  It felt like I was climbing a 4th peak.  Stop to rest every 10-20 steps; sit down every 100-150 steps.  It was clear that I was going to spend another night at Silver Pick and only with the water I had collected at 4:30pm.

My mood was initially poor due to being agitated by the nasty down climb and the interminable hike over loose talus to reach the creek bed, but soon I felt privileged to have another challenge; I was dead tired, but I was going to win.

I reached camp at 8pm, ending a nearly 16-hour day.  I had climbed 3 Fourteeners, done 1 great traverse, hiked 13 miles, ascended nearly 6,000 feet, and fully stress-tested my courage and stamina.  A good, long day in the Wilsons.

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Location Altitude Altitude Chg Mileage Time Cumul. Hours
Camp 10,600 – – 4:15am –
Rock of Ages Saddle 13,000 +2,400 2.5 6:00am 1:45
Wilson Peak 14,017 +1,017 1.0 7:30am 3:15
Navajo Glacier 12,800 -1,217 2.0 10:00am 5:45
Mt. Wilson 14,246 +1,446 1.0 11:30am 7:15
El Diente 14,159 -446

+359

 1.0 2:00pm 9:15
Basin 12,300 -1,859 1.0 4:30pm 11:45
Rock of Ages Saddle 13,000 +700 2.0 6:30pm 13:45
Camp 10,600 -2,400 2.5 8:00pm 15:15
Totals – 5,922 13 – 15:15

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The Chicago Basin Quadruple Banger

March 7, 2009

As I closed in on the few remaining Colorado Fourteeners, my wife and I decided to visit Durango for a vacation during which I would grab the only remaining cluster of Fourteeners, including Windom (14,082), Sunlight (14,059), N. Eolus (14,039) and S. Eolus (14,083).

On August 12, 2003 Susan, Isabella and I made the extraordinarily long drive to Durango.  We arrived late afternoon on Tuesday with enough time to scout out the train situation and a decent dinner at Francisco’s.  An early night facilitated by sharing a single room with a 1 year-old served my purposes well.

Wednesday

The Double Tree hotel was only 1 block from the train station, so I had time for quick, but good breakfast and a short walk to the train station after a 6:30am wakeup call.  I boarded the train (open gondola #6, seat 11) at 7:30am as instructed and awaited the scheduled departure at 8:15am.  The train actually left at 8:15am and I sat puzzled over my uneaten bacon as I watched the last few people crawl onboard at 8:10am; I decided for the hundredth time to never again follow the instructions of the “system” too carefully.  With a whistle blast and a cloud of coal soot, we rolled out of town.

It was a surreal way to begin a climbing effort.  As I waved to the crowds of people who are compelled to wave at departing trains, I was thinking that I had added a new mode of climbing transportation to my experience sheet.  I used donkeys and a boat in Bolivia, a bus in Ecuador, chairlifts in Switzerland, a funicular in France, and now a coal-burning, steam-powered train in Durango (and, yes, I did get cinders in my eyes).

The train ride was enjoyable, but a bit long.  We arrived at the Needleton TH at 10:47am (right on time) and I began hiking at 11am.  The trail to the Chicago Basin was excellent and used the distance efficiently to eat up the altitude.

A view toward the Twin Lakes from my campsite

A view toward the Twin Lakes from my campsite

I reached the relatively flat Chicago Basin before 2pm and selected a secluded spot for my tent at about 11,000′ right at 2pm.  The guidebook indicated I could have gone further (to approx. 11,200), but I was feeling tired and wanted to dump the heavy pack to give myself a chance to bag the Eolus’ (Eoli?) North and South later if the weather held.

I took a bit of extra time to set up camp with a bit of forethought regarding rainfall pooling and runoff; I was told by descending climbers that rain was the regular feature of the preceding week, and lots of it.  I set the tent on the crest of the slight hill in the camp area and used rocks to keep the tent footprint from being swamped by water (no water between footprint and tent floor!).  I also built an excellent vestibule rock floor and a drainage gully to augment the natural runoff flow that would divert any rogue rivers trying to find a path under my tent.  Then I hung my food and set off for Twin Lakes.

Hiking up the nice trail toward the extraordinary basin beneath Peak 18, I unexpectedly found a fork in the trail around 11,100 (after an open meadow) marked by two cairns; I guessed and luckily took the upper (left) fork which led to the steep ascent up the creeks and falls to Twin Lakes.  During the ascent, the weather continued to worsen (i.e., thickening, darkening clouds to the south and east); but blue skies to the north and west, as well as overhead kept me in the game.  I figured that if the weather held, I’d bag a couple peaks before dark and then finish on Thursday, and if not, my knowledge of the start would help in my predawn route finding of the Twin Lakes.

Of course I also had the option of rising very early Friday morning to do any remaining peaks before my early afternoon train ride.  But that was my last resort, so I kept it out of my plans.

I reached Twin Lakes around 5pm, just when the blue-sky patches finally disappeared; I decided I would forgo the summit attempt and just gather beta on the climbs for Thursday.  After about 10 minutes, the thunder began.  It was some miles distant, but I didn’t want to be so high when it got closer.  I made excellent time back down to camp, and got drenched by a moderate rain.  The rain abated for 45 minutes as I gathered water for the evening and sorted out my sleeping arrangements, but then it restarted in earnest.

I fell asleep quickly and was gone from this world until artillery began falling about me.  It was a war zone, as best I can tell.  I began thinking about the chance of rock fall from lightning strikes in the peaks above me and wondering if I should move my tent…but then my alarm went off at 3:55am.

Thursday

At 4:30am, I was moving up the trail once again.  Everything was wet, but the sky was clear.  In fact, it was a brilliant full moon and everything was lit up magnificently…. I was thinking that I could probably find my way without a flashlight.

About 5:00am, my flashlight died and the spare died immediately thereafter, and I found that I could hike by moonlight alone.  My late afternoon reconnoiter proved invaluable during this moonwalk…except for a few steps in water (invisible in the shadows), I had no mishaps.

The morning light became useful about 6am, which was about the time I was mounting the saddle between Windom and Peak 18; I scrambled up the good talus to be greeted by a cold morning wind.  My spare socks served me well as mittens and I continued up the ridge.  The heavy rain had made the lichen especially slippery, resulting in a few unfortunate episodes with me sliding over rocks with sock-covered fingers grasping for purchase…nothing serious, fortunately.

A view of Sunlight from Windom

A view of Sunlight from Windom

I reach the summit at 7:30am after sorting out the summit block puzzle, and just in time for the sun rise.  It was a glorious sight.  I received my first rays of sun for the day and greedily soaked up the radiation it provided.  Looking north, the Sunlight summit did not look as advertised, which I chalked up to another over-rated climb; and Eolus looked very far away.  I didn’t stay but a few minutes and then headed back down the ridge to a midway point that looked good for traversing into the gully between Windom and Sunlight Spire.

From the gully, I headed up the Red Couloir.  It was loose and worn, but it served my purposes well.  I reached the saddle between Peak and Spire and followed a cairned route beneath the ridge (Twin Lake side) toward the Sunlight summit.  I reached a spot with a hole in the ridge that looked like the “window”, but wasn’t.  I took it and found some of the hardest climbing of the day…as I neared the summit, I still thought the summit block didn’t look hard and figured my off-route climbing was the crux.

From the Sunlight summit marker

From Sunlight Peak area

I reached the summit marker at 9am, and dropped my pack before walking over to study the summit block.  I worked my way up the sloping block via the crack and found the standard way up which I took up to the block before the block before the block (you’ll understand when you see it).  I could see the moves up would be easy, but could also see that the down climb would be dynamic.  Me no like.  I spent the next 15 minutes looking for an alternative route only to find that, like thousands before me, “The Step” was the only way.

My route to the true summit

My route to the true summit

I decided I could not go home without standing on the block.  I steeled myself to the task, climbed up to the secondary block via a knob and then stepped up to the summit block.  I immediately turned around and stepped down and squatted to ponder the next move; after a moment’s consideration, I did a sideways jump step as practiced so many nights watching Rocky Horror Picture Show as a kid (i.e., “a jump to your left”).

I packed up and left the summit around 9:30am.  I did not like the down climbing reversal of my approach and looked around for an alternative; I found the real “window”.  It was an easy descent; I used the East slopes route (marginal) to gain a better angle toward Twin Lakes, which I reached at 10:30am.

Looking back to Windom & Sunlight; my route

Looking back to Windom & Sunlight; my route

I was making good use of my time, but the weather was not cooperating.  I should have had plenty of time to summit before afternoon weather, but the clouds were forming up already and I doubted I had much time left.  I allowed myself enough time to refill my water bottles and then I headed up the well-marked trail to Eolous.  I was feeling quite tired and could not do it in a single push; I kept pushing myself to stretch-out the runs between rests so I could beat the weather.

I followed a set of cairns to the saddle between North and South Eolus.  The trail ascended directly up toward the summit of Eolus and underneath the “Catwalk” ridge.  Just below the Catwalk face, a gully-like feature to the right allowed an ascent to the basin beneath North Eolus and the Saddle between North and South Eolus.  The ascent up the 50-foot cliff to reach the saddle was a surprising 4th class effort, but I probably didn’t find the easiest way.

Looking at Eolus; my route

Looking at Eolus; my route

Once on the Catwalk, I jogged toward Eolus, finding it to be an admirable feature but of limited risk.  Looking at the weather, I could see that the clouds were worsening somewhat, but I felt I had enough time to do North and South Eolus…. getting down would be considered later.

When I reached the east face of Eolus, I was surprised at the steepness of the face.  Multiple routes were marked by cairns, and a fairly easy path to the summit was found.  I spent a few minutes on the summit with a couple of fellows from California and then left so as to not show too much disrespect to the weather gods.  I found an even easier descent route and was running back across the Catwalk after only a few minutes.

The ascent of North Eolus was a pleasure.  I’d call it a 3rd class scramble up crumbly granite.  The summit had a marker but no register.  I didn’t stay long, again out of respect, and reached the saddle 15 minutes after leaving it for the second time.

Once again, I found the down climb from the saddle via a large crack to be a solid 4th class effort.  This time I took care to use the best holds and still felt that only the final pitch on Crestone Needle (via the traverse from Crestone Peak) surpassed it (and even then only due to length).  A family of goats was my only audience as I quickly hustled down the trail to Twin Lakes.

I was probably off route, but I didn’t see a better way.

About 2pm I passed an older couple ascending toward Eolus; they were 1 hour from the summit at my pace.  They said they were going to see how far they could get before the weather came.  I offered a “good luck” and then continued downward. The next group I met was going to stay in the Twin Lakes area to celebrate their summits.  I was going to get the hell out of harm’s way and get below tree line.  This I did.

Once near camp, I decided I would use the free time I had to soak my used feet in cold water.  I cannot recommend anything better to rejuvenate the body and the spirit.  I refilled my water bottles (up-stream from my feet), put on my spare socks (it wouldn’t do to put the wet, nasty socks back on my clean, fresh feet), and headed to camp about 100 yards away.

Resting in my tent after a hard day

Resting in my tent after a hard day

I was trying to decide what to do until dark when the rain started.  No thunder, but a steady rain.  I decided I would take a nap.  Around 7pm, I woke up to a pleasant evening, and finished dinner.  I tried to read a bit more of Asimov’s Foundation and Empire, but I drifted off to sleep even as I wondered about the people frolicking above tree line.

Friday

I tried to go back to sleep enough times to wait for my 9am alarm, but I couldn’t do it.  I just couldn’t sleep longer than 13 hours.  I didn’t have anything warm except my sleeping bag, so I laid in it whilst I pondered my amazingly empty day ahead of me:  pack up (1 hour), hike to trailhead (2 hours), wait for train (3 hours), ride train (3 hours), and finally be able to enjoy an evening with my family.  Eventually I stirred and began step one.  With approximately 13 hours of sleep, I felt completely fresh.

Finally, the train arrives

Finally, the train arrives

The hike down was uneventful while the wait for the train was interminable.  Waiting for the train, I passed the time by throwing rocks into the river until my arm hurt.  Then I threw lefty.  It didn’t work; three hours with nothing to do still felt like three hours with nothing to do.

I did chat with the California fellows (from Eolus summit) for a short while.  They told me they met a very wet, older couple coming down from Twin Lakes after reaching the summit of Eolus, their 54th Fourteener.

Once on the train and moving without effort toward Durango, I felt privileged to be able to ride such a train.  I even bought a cold Coors Light to celebrate my adventure.  Even still, 3 hours is a long time to look out a window.  I was delighted to return to my family and enjoy their company in Durango one final evening.

Location

Altitude

Altitude Change

Hiking

Miles

Time of Day

Hiking Hours

Notes
Needleton TH

8,212

–

–

11:00am

–
Camp

11,000

+2,788

7.0

2:00pm

3:00pm

3:00

 An unsafe spot in a clump of trees
Twin Lakes

12,500

+1,500

1.0

5:00pm

5:00

 Lightning and rain; running for treeline
Camp

11,000

-1,500

1.0

7:00pm

4:30am

7:00

 Wicked 6 hr storm in evening
Windom Summit

14,082

+3,082

1.0

7:30am

7:45am

10:00

 Nice finish
Sunlight Summit

14,059

-700

+677

1.0

9:00am

9:30am

11:30

 A scary jump!
Twin Lakes

12,500

-1,559

1.0

10:30am

12:30

 Weather turning; need to hurry
Eolus Summit

14,083

+1,583

1.0

12:30pm

12:40pm

14:30

 Harder than expected; loose ledges
N. Eolus Summit

14,039

-244

+200

–

1:10pm

15:00

 10 minutes from saddle; 3rd class
Camp

11,000

-3,039

2.0

3:40pm

9:00am

17:30

 13 hours of sleep is good for what ails you
Needleton TH

8,212

-2,788

7.0

11:00am

19:30

 A long wait for the 3pm train
Totals

–

9,830

22

–

19:30

–

Each of the three main peaks had admirable attributes, such that it would be hard to say any one was better than the others.  I’d have to rank the final summit move on Sunlight as the single scariest move I ever made on a 14er.

And all that remained to finish the full list of 14ers was Sneffels (7/2006), San Luis (7/2006), and Culebra (8/2007)

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Longs Peak: Keyhole Ridge

December 3, 2008

Story

With a long break coming up, Brian and I looked for a long, high-altitude climb to keep us sore for a few extra days.  We settled on Longs Peak Keyhole Ridge: a moderate ridge climb with spectacular views and a direct route to the summit.  I also had a private agenda; I was going to see if I could avoid dehydration rather than tolerate it.

The route included a 7.25 mile one-way hike with a 3,600 foot elevation gain (ranger station to false keyhole) plus 5 mostly adventurous pitches of 4th class to 5.5 climbing. We thought we’d start early despite a perfect Summer weather forecast.

keyholeridgeroute3

We arrived at the full parking lot just before 4am and started out under a clear sky and bright moon right at 4am. Brian and I are still fairly fast hikers, even with a pack full of metal and rope; we reached the first bridge (just before tree line) in 45 minutes, which is a good a speed as we’ve done. We reached the cut-off to Jim’s Grove around 5am and the Boulder Field corral after 2.5 hours. With no small amount of pleasure, we noted that 2.5 hours to the Boulder Field is as fast as we’ve ever done.

We took a short break to enjoy a snack, tank up on water, stash some gear, and be amazed by the crush of people milling around the center of the Boulder Field. Rested and me with a full belly (a bar and 1 ½ liters of water), we started hiking toward the Keyhole. Just before the Keyhole is a NW-facing ramp that leads to the False Keyhole further up the NW Ridge of Longs Peak. From the False Keyhole (between the 1st & 2nd towers along the NW Ridge), we were able to mount the ridge and begin climbing toward the peak with the following pitches / sections of climbing:

  1. 4th Class Scramble: to reach the initial climbing section, we scrambled up along the ridge line for about 50 feet.
  2. Ridge Tiptoe & Climb to Second Tower: a scary, exposed section of blocks create a 4th class scramble along a 3 foot wide staircase with hundred foot drops to either side; we roped up. This scramble leads to the foot of the 2nd tower. From the foot of the tower, we traversed left (5.2) to reach a steep ramp that leads to the top of the tower. The ramp (5.4) led up to a number of options to reach the top of the tower; we went left to a ledge and then up to the top of the tower (5.5).
  3. Downclimb and Ledge Traverse: From the top of the 2nd tower, we descended to the west side of the ridge, down climbing 10 feet to a ledge.
    Longs Peak Keyhole Ridge Tower

    Longs Peak Keyhole Ridge Tower

    The ledge led to a low point between the 2nd tower and the remaining NW Ridge.

  4. Scramble to top of ramp: From the saddle, we moved up a broad, low angle ramp to reach a cliff below the NW Ridge. At the end of this pitch, I had a beautiful sit-on-the-cliff-edge, feet dangling belay overlooking the Boulder Field.
  5. Face Climb to Ridge Top: Finally, we climbed the cliff to get back to the top of the ridge (5.5)
  6. Scramble & Hike to Summit: We unroped and climbed along the ridge crest. Near the end of the ridge, we dropped down 10 feet to the left to pass the last tower (3rd class). We then scrambled to the summit level. Once we reached the summit block, we had a 100 yard hike to the summit and the masses milling and lounging around like on Miami Beach.

keyholeridgeroute

On the summit at noon was right on schedule. We rested and I ate a bite of lunch while finishing my 2nd liter of water since the Boulder Field.

After our short break, we descended the Cables Route down the north face without incident.

keyholeridgeroute2
Once we reached the corral and our stash, we refilled bottles and bellies with water.

As we left the Boulder Field, my toes were already feeling the beginnings of “Fire Toes” syndrome, a very painful friction condition brought on by my newish Makalus. I’ve found that the newer style boots with rubber rands covering the toes will not break in; they insist on breaking in your feet.

The hike out of the Boulder Field and through Jim’s Grove was long and hot, but went without any ankle turns. We took a short break after the bridge that reconnects with the main trail, where I finished my 7th liter of water for the day.

Trudge, trudge, trudge. It is always the same death march back to the car after a Longs Peak summit. The only sign of aging I can discern is a strong preference for going uphill in the morning; the downhill return is always a dread. My toes felt horribly abused.

Still, the time passed relatively quickly due to our use of “Movie Quiz”: a game of guessing movie sources for quotes or naming movies that a particular actor was in. We reached the car at 4pm, where I was pleasantly surprised to find that, once again, the toes were still attached.

And, aside from boot tortures, I felt great, thanks to my water guzzling efforts.

Route Map: Yellow is standard Keyhole route. Our variations are in red.

14.5 miles, ~4,850 ft elevation gain, 12 hours; not bad for two old guys

14.5 miles, ~4,850 ft elevation gain, 12 hours; not bad for two old guys

Complications

  • None

Mistakes

  • None

How I Got Lucky

  • The weather was great all day
  • I was able to find a lot of water on the trail to avoid dehydration without carrying more than 2 liters at a time

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