Displaying items by tag: 14er

Capitol Peak carries a mystique among hikers and climbers in Colorado. First climbed in 1909 by Percy Hagerman and Harold Clark, Capitol Peak is often revered as the most difficult 14er in Colorado. Capitol Peak towers above treeline in the Elk Mountains of Colorado, a crumbling mass of granite, shaped into a rugged pyramid with spiny ridges. While I have a great respect for Capitol Peak, I felt that I had personally prepared myself for the climb through graduation along the difficulty continuum of climbs in Colorado. Having summited several of Colorado's harder Centennials (highest 100 mountains), including Crestone Needle, Crestone Peak, Vestal Peak and Little Bear Peak, I felt that I had the skills and mental toughness to complete Capitol. Capitol is well-known for its "Knife Edge," a 150 ft. narrow and jagged section found on the main route of Capitol Peak. The Knife Edge is very exposed on both sides, making it a mental challenge for many climbers. Many personal friends and family members as well as reports on the internet had built up Capitol's Knife Edge's difficulty in my mind; infact, YouTube is full of videos of people climbing the Knife Edge, some recklessly crossing it like a tightrope. I was hopeful that it was more hype than people it made it out to be...

Here are some meaningful metrics from this amazing trip:

Peaks summited:

Capitol Peak: 14,130 ft. (ranked 29th in Colorado)

"K2": 13,664 ft. (unranked)

Total elevation gain: 5,300 ft.

Total distance hiked: 17 miles

Total time hiking: Approx. 14 hours

Total photos taken: 356

Total distance driven: 520 miles

Trip duration: 1 day, 19 hours

K2 (far left) and Capitol Peak (far right) seen in this dramatic panoramic. Click for high resolution version (15 mb).

That being said, Capitol Peak was not without other dangers. Many climbers have perished on Capitol over the years, oddly enough, very few of the deaths have occurred on the Knife Edge. In 2009, James Flowers, the United States Paraolympic Swim Coach, perished on the Northeast side of "K2," a sub-peak of Capitol Peak, as reported by the Aspen Times. Needless to say, great caution, respect, and preparation would be required if I were to successfully climb Capitol. First on my list for preparation was to find capable partners. This is often difficult in the mountaineering community, since many climbers inflate their abilities or do not disclose their limitations to potential partners.

Earlier this summer, I climbed Huron Peak with Mike Vetter, a Sioux Falls, South Dakota resident and an up-and-coming star in the IT realm and CEO of DataSync. Mike and I made plans to climb again this year and we set our sights on Capitol Peak. Mike invited his friend, Travis Arment, an avid marathon runner. Neither Mike nor Travis had extensive experience climbing class 4 peaks; however, having hiked with Mike in the past, and knowing that Mike was a comfortable and avid rock climber, I knew I could trust him to make solid decisions and that they would both be personally responsible enough to turn-around if the climb became too difficult. We all exchanged plans via Facebook, ensured we all had the proper gear and knowledge, and established ground rules for the climb in case something unexpected happened. Travis and Mike flew in to Denver on Friday, August 13th. I picked them both up from Castle Rock, where Travis' aunt lives, on Saturday morning and we departed for Capitol. The total drive from Colorado Springs was approximately 260 miles and took roughly 5 hours.

We arrived at the trailhead for Capitol at about 10:00 AM and were hiking by 10:30 AM. As usual, my pack was the heaviest and largest, weighing in at just over 50 lbs. 

Mike's pack was medium-sized and Travis literally backpacked with a daypack. We made sure to give Travis a hard time for having the smallest pack, and Mike was quick to point out that he was carrying half of Travis' stuff. Travis was a great sport about it and agreed to share his tasty snacks on the hike up.

There are two trails for Capitol Peak - the standard trail and the "ditch trail." We chose the ditch trail due to its lack of elevation loss and gain at the start of the hike. The ditch trail is aptly named, following an irrigation ditch along the side of a ridge line which wraps around towards Capitol Peak. The irrigation ditch is used to provide water for cattle, which are known to graze this part of the Elk Mountains in large numbers.

The topo map of our route. Want to make your own maps like this? Check out the TOPO! program from National Geographic!

Capitol Peak seen from the trailhead.

Matt Payne and Travis Arment on the Capitol Peak Ditch Trail - photo by Mike Vetter

After about a mile and a half of hiking on the trail, it leaves the ditch and heads uphill, gaining half of the ridge to the west. Before we knew it, the trail meandered into a great opening, revealing Capitol Peak. Capitol Peak remained in view for much of the remainder of the hike up to Capitol Lake.

Matt Payne on the trail

Capitol Peak, about 1/3 of the way up to Capitol Lake from the trailhead.

On the way up the trail, we passed many raspberry plants, sometimes stopping to grab a snack to help fuel our ascent.

Wild Raspberries - photo by Travis Arment

Matt Payne braves the spiky bush to score some berries.

Travis Arment reaches in to score some berries.

Eventually, the trail reaches the Capitol Lake basin and intersects two side trails leading to two campsite areas, each split into four campsites (#1 through #4 and #5 through #9). We found ourselves camped at site #6, a quaint spot in the trees up on a hill.

Mike Vetter unpacks at our campsite.

After we got situated at our campsite, we took a small nap. The hike up to Capitol Lake was pretty exhausting for all of us. After our short nap, we took a walk down to the lake with our cameras and took pictures. The lake rests right below Capitol itself and was a great area to relax and take in the afternoon sun.

Capitol Lake sits beneath Capitol Peak in this 180⁰ panoramic photo taken above the shore. 

Mike went down to the lake to fill up his water bottles, using his steri-pen to sterilize the water. Unfortunately, the steri-pen bested Mike's weary intellect and he gave up on the endeavour, conceding that my Ketadyn Hiker Pro filter would later suffice. Mike and I went down to the stream near our campsite before cooking dinner and refilled all of our water. The area surrounding Capitol Lake is really quite gorgeous, with Capitol looming over the whole area like some kind of ancient protector of its treasure.

Mike Vetter filling his water up at Capitol Lake.

I pulled out my food for the night - a custom-made soup with dehydrated vegetables and pasta with chicken. Mike and Travis were somewhat jealous of this fancy treat at first; however, the meal was about the saltiest thing I've ever ate. Mike and Travis cleaned up on their Knorr Pasta side meals and we all hit the sack at around 8 PM, with the alarm set for 4 AM.

4 AM came all too soon, despite the long night of sleep we all enjoyed. I scarfed down some homemade zuchinni bread that my wife made for me and we all grabbed our backpacks and headed for Capitol. The trail for Capitol happened to be the same trail used by our campsite, which perpendicularly intersects the Capitol Lake trail just below Capitol Lake. We made our way up the switchbacks in quick order, passing several groups. Being that it was quite early in the morning, we could see all the other hikers in the area ascending beneath us and above us. We counted about 15 to 20 other headlamps heading up.

Travis Arment (left) and Matt Payne (right) excited to be on the trail to Capitol Peak.

We reached the Mount Daly - Capitol Peak saddle about 30 minutes into the hike and enjoyed some pretty awe-inspiring sunrise views from there, which Mike documented on video:

Sunrise

Sunrise... again

Clouds rest in the light of sunrise to the east.

We continued up and over the ridge and descended a well traveled gully to reach the beginning of a very long stretch of boulders to the north and east of K2. The trail here mostly consisted of cairns and boulders, making for fun travel in the early light.

Mike Vetter hikes up the immense boulder field.

Out of nowhere, as if we were not expecting it, the sun blasted alpenglow onto the mountains surrounding us.

Mount Daly basked in alpenglow in the early morning. 

Mount Daly in Alpenglow.

The trail eventually lead us to a snowfield, which was mostly ice. I had been warned by the snowfield by a fellow hiker, Terry Mathews. We tested our footing on the snow and ice and decided to cross it, cautiously. There were great footsteps already kicked into the snow, and the relief was not terribly steep at this point. We all made it across quite easily and continued up the boulders. We saw a large snowfield at the top of the basin on the K2 - Clark Peak saddle's face and knew that we needed to turn right before then to reach K2. We decided to head up a very solid class 4 section.

A snow and ice field adorns the face of the saddle between K2 and Clark Peak.

Travis up-climbing the solid Class 4 terrain leading to the base of K2.

Once reaching the top of the ridge between K2 and Clark Peak, we realized that we still had quite a ways to go before reaching K2. The terrain became much flatter and we were able to get to the top of K2 in short order. Many parties opt to skip K2, arguing that the approach is more difficult; however, we did not want to miss out on the views from K2's summit.

To reach the top of K2, we broke off from the main trail just after it winds itself to the right of K2 and climbed a steep but solid dihedral to the summit. Capitol Peak looked ominous from K2, dwarfing it's surroundings.

Capitol Peak, Snowmass Mountain, and the Maroon Bells come into view from the summit of K2.

The down-climb from K2 was trickier than expected, and it forced us to backtrack a little bit to meet back up with the proper trail which winds around the side of K2. The terrain here is steep, loose, and slightly exposed.

Matt Payne downclimbing from K2.

Downclimbing K2 to reach the K2 - Capitol saddle.

I had read some reports of people dying near K2 in the past, and had always wondered how this was possible. Undoubtedly, there did not seem to be any obvious threats to one's life until we reach the backside of K2 and saw the impressive cliffs surrounding K2 and Capitol Peak. One false move and a climber could find themselves in a world of hurt.

A huge cliff greets climbers reaching the base of K2. Don't slip here...

The remainder of the climb was amazing. Capitol's ridge is a spine of crumbling boulders and jagged knives, a real tribute to the harsh and remote wilderness that the Elk Mountains call home.

Mike with K2 in background.

At this point we knew we were quickly approaching the fabled Knife Edge. The North Face of Capitol Peak shot up like an angry beast from the pits of hell. Ok - maybe not that freakish, but it was sincerely one of the more impressive rock faces I've seen. Either side of Capitol presented thousands of feet of exposure and immediately reminded you of the need for caution and careful routefinding. A fall anywhere from here on would almost certainly be fatal.

Capitol Peak's North Face - not a good place to fall.

Fortunately, the views from this part of the climb were unreal. The sun slowly rose above, providing light for the most incredible vistas of the Elk Mountains.

Snowmass Mountain, Capitol Peak's closest 14er neighbor.

We traversed across small ledges and quirky chimneys and found ourselves with what must have been the Knife Edge. K2's previously daunting surroundings now felt much easier.

Nearing Capitol Peak's Knife Edge

Looking behind: K2 and climbers reaching it's summit.

We finally reached the Knife Edge, gathered our wits about us, and gave it a go. The plan was for Mike to go first, and then to take video with his camera of us crossing. We watched the group before us, and they mostly employed a mix between the 'scoot on your ass' method and the 'hang from one side like monkey bars' method for crossing. We figured to follow suit, as both strategies seemed to appeal in their own ways.

Mike Vetter ready to cross the Knife Edge.

Mike made it across without a hitch and took this revealing photo while crossing, looking down one of the sides. It goes to show how freaky and exposed it really was.

I crossed second, making sure I had perfectly solid holds on the rock as I crossed. I employed a mix between scooting and hanging from a side and made it across fairly quickly. The technical nature of the crossing is not terribly difficult or physically demanding; however, the mental requirement to cross was great, knowing that one mistake meant death. Needless to say, don't get yourself too hyped up for the Knife Edge. It is dangerous but the risk is quite manageable with caution, careful movements and mental toughness. I did find myself breathing heavily at the end, mostly from the excitement of the whole thing.

Matt Payne starts the Knife Edge - photo by Mike Vetter.

Mike compiled some video of our crossings of the Knife Edge and placed them on YouTube:

After the Knife Edge, the going got much easier, mostly a Class 3 / 4 scramble across a fun boulder ridge. We reached somewhat of an impasse about 3/4 to the summit, having to choose to either continue straight ahead and around the left side of Capitol per the standard route's description, or to head straight up to the ridge, ascending Class 5.2 / 5.3 terrain. Being the adventurers we are, we chose the latter and went straight up. The route was solid, challenging, and enjoyable, with minimal exposure and many places to rest. All in all, I would recommend taking the upper ridge route if you feel comfortable with light Class 5 climbing and steeper terrain. Never did any of us feel unsafe on this section; although, Travis did mention later that it was somewhat spooky for him. Fortunately, Travis is an excellent athlete and managed to power himself up the steep section without any problems. We were very cognizant of the rockfall potential, taking special caution not to pull rocks down on people below us.

Once reaching the ridge again, we stopped to rest and recoup our strength for the final summit push.

Matt Payne with Capitol's summit block. Almost there.

From here, the summit push was quite fun, with Class 4 and low Class 5 moves required. We were quite pleased with our choice to go the high route, enjoying both the challenge and the solidness of the route. We watched several climbers take the lower route, a looser, chossier, and less enjoyable section of the mountain.

Mike and I took some video footage of this section:

We reached the summit at 10:15 AM as one of the first groups up. The views were outstanding and the company was superb. A group from Ft. Collins joined us on the summit, and conversation quickly went to skiing Capitol Peak. Being probably the hardest 14er to ski, theorized on the possible ski routes and I swapped stories and names of climbers we both knew of that had either skied it or attempted to, referencing Brian Kalet and Jordan White of 14ers.com fame.

The summit party. Travis tinkers with his cell phone while Matt converses with fellow climbers.

After refueling with Resees Peanut Butter Cups and Raisins, I went on a photo frenzy.

A 360⁰ view from the summit of Capitol Peak. Click for high resolution view.

A panormaic view of the Pierre Lakes, Snowmass Mountain, and the rest of the awesome Elk Mountains.

A panoramic photo looking north and west from Capitol Peak. The Snowmass - Capitol ridge strikes me as being quite impressive. 

A massive panoramic photo of the Snowmass Basin, K2, Maroon Bells, and Snowmass Mountain. Click for high resolution version (26 meg file). How many climbers can you count?

A zoomed in panoramic photo of the Maroon Bells and Pyramid Peak. Click for full resolution version.

A super zoomed in view of the Maroon Bells.

A zoomed in view of one of the Pierre Lakes.

Mike Vetter on the summit of Capitol Peak.

Matt Payne on the summit of Capitol Peak.

A panoramic view looking down at Capitol Lake, Mount Daly, and across Capitol's ridge to the Pierre Lakes and the rest of the Elk Mountains. Click for high resolution version.

Mike was able to capture some video from the summit as well:

With no threat of weather in any direction, we decided to hang out on the summit for about an hour, enjoying the views. We eventually headed down and chose to follow the standard route. The rock was nasty through this section of down-climbing, and required good concentration, footing tests (make sure the rock does not fall when you step on it), and patience. Most accidents occur on the way down, so we were vigilant and cautious. Travis was able to capture this perspective of the rock and exposure beneath us on the down-climb.

Travis plants his foot firmly on a ledge during the down-climb from the summit of Capitol Peak.

Matt Payne carefully down-climbs from Capitol Peak.

Matt Payne with one of the Pierre Lakes in background.

About halfway back to the Knife Edge, a group of climbers were coming up Capitol below us, without helmets. They asked us if this was the way to go and we responded that it was one of the ways up. It surprised me to see how oblivious they were that we were climbing above them on loose rock. I ordered my group to stop moving until they were in a safe location below us. It really is no wonder that more people do not perish on these mountains. Ironically and sadly enough, we later learned that a 20-year-old hiker died the day before on Maroon Peak from rockfall that had come from above him. Even though he was wearing a helmet, the rock that struck him had enough force to knock him loose from the mountain and caused him to fall to his death.  I strongly believe that if people took more caution and paid attention to their surroundings and used some common sense, there would be less deaths. If you need a good climbing helmet, check out this one.

We reached the Knife Edge at approximately 12 PM and crossed it in much the same fashion as before, except this time, I went first. I generously used the 'scoot on your butt' maneuver to get across.

Matt Payne crosses back over the Knife Edge on Capitol Peak, heading towards K2.

Mike captured yet another great shot from the Knife Edge, looking down at Capitol Lake:

The climb back down from K2 was fairly straight-forward but tiring. We were ready for some pizza at Beau Jo's Pizza, no doubt. We finally reached the snowfield again, and it was much softer this time, with rivers of slush flowing down it. It was somewhat scary, but I tested the footing and it felt great, so we crossed again.

Travis Arment crosses the snowfield beneath K2. Photo by Mike Vetter.

We made great time back to the Daly - Capitol saddle and I sprinted the last stretch to the saddle, anticipating the victorious beer that would be consumed once back to civilization.

Matt Payne runs the final section on the back side of the ridge between Capitol and Daly. Photo by Mike Vetter.

On the way down the hillside, Mike stopped to take some great shots of the wildflowers found on Capitol's northeast shoulder:

We made it back to camp at 2:15 PM and packed up. We refilled our water and headed out. Travis and I were motivated solely by the prospect of cold beer and fresh pizza.

I hope you enjoyed this trip report. We surely enjoyed the trip and I personally can't wait to join Mike and Travis for our next adventure.

What an action-packed trip this was! From off-roading one of Colorado's most difficult 4x4 trails to witnessing a full-scale Search and Rescue operation! As if climbing one of Colorado's most challenging 14ers wasn't enough!

To start off, here is a break-down of relevant numbers from this adventure up Little Bear Peak:

Peak summited:

Little Bear Peak: 14,037 ft. (ranked 44th in Colorado)

Total elevation gain: 2,360 ft.

Total distance hiked: 2.54 miles

Total time hiking: Approx. 5 hours

Photos taken: 252

Search and Rescue operations witnessed: 1

Little Bear Peak sits impressively next to Blanca Peak in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of Colorado and is considered one of the most dangerous and perilous mountains in Colorado due to a section near the top called the Hourglass and the Bowling Alley. In fact, just this year, a climber named Kevin Hayne perished on Little Bear from falling at the Hourglass section. A full report of those events can be found here. For a semi-comprehensive (not regularly updated) list of all accidents on Little Bear, check out John Kirk's site.

Having backpacked the long, steep road from the base of Blanca Peak last year to climb Blanca Peak and Ellingwood Point, I was not looking forward to another slog up the road to climb Little Bear. Fortunately, my college roommate and great friend, David Deramo, was back in the state from his long 2 year stay in Japan. Dave owns one of the most awesome Jeep Cherokees I've ever seen. Dave purchased the Jeep when we were in college in 1999 and has put work into it each year since. It went from a stock 1989 Jeep to an awesome rock-crawling machine over the course of many years. Dave has put a lot of work and time into his Jeep, and I was eager to see what it could do. Dave agreed early in the year to drive up the road with me and attempt to climb Little Bear.

Dave drove down from his home in Winter Park with his Jeep on a borrowed trailer, towed by a borrowed Ford half-ton pickup on Friday, August 6th and stayed the night at my place in Colorado Springs. We woke up at a reasonable time and made the drive over La Veta pass and met up with his friend from Durango, Lance. Lance owns 4x4 & More in Durango, Colorado and specializes in custom 4x4 jobs. His own Jeep, another older Jeep Cherokee, does not look like it belongs on the insane Blanca Peak trail; however, Lance keeps his Jeep looking stock but has some nasty tricks up his sleeve, including air suspension that adjusts using switches in his cab. Lance knows his stuff!

When we arrived at the start of the road and began unloading Dave's Jeep from the trailer, a couple of Search and Rescue (SAR) team-members began to assemble. Apparently someone had an accident on Ellingwood Point earlier in the day. Learning about a SAR mission did not do much to instill confidence in me for our trip up Little Bear.

The drive up the road was fun. Dave's Jeep really performed well. He runs a 5.5 inch lift with 35" ProComp XTerrain tires with ARB lockers and tons of other upgrades. For those not familiar with the road, it is truly one of the most insane roads I've seen. The road itself consists of really rocky terrain with several rock crawling obstacles known as Jaws 1, 2, and 3. Dave made Jaws 1 look like a bump in the road.

Jaws 1.

Jaws 2 is somewhat scarier, due to its off-camber feel and the considerable risk for tumbling off the side of the mountain. Dave needed a couple of attempts, but also made Jaws 2 look pretty easy. Lance's seemingly unfit Jeep also did great over Jaws 2, much to my surprise. Lance's Jeep is such a sleeper - it looks completely incapable of doing these obstacles, but the tricks he can pull make him just able to make it over the problems.

Lance makes it over Jaws 2 in his stock-looking Jeep Cherokee. Lance is a total off-roading master.

Dave heads up Jaws 2.

Jaws 3 is a little different than the other two obstacles, having a trickier line than the other two. Most consider Jaws 3 to be the hardest obstacle.

Once over Jaws 3, we were at Lake Como. Lake Como had many 4x4 vehicles parked at it and many campers lined its shores. We aimed for the south-eastern shore to look for camping and enjoyed the views of Little Bear Peak.

A spotlight shines on Little Bear Peak

We found a great campsite at the far end of the lake and unpacked our gear and made camp. A couple of guys in a Jeep Rubicon also joined us at our camp site. They were also planning on climbing Little Bear Peak, so it was a natural fit. Once our camp was made, we all drove up the road to see if we could complete the final obstacle. It was no problem for our group and we easily made it to the end of the road past Blue Lake. As soon as we arrived, the weather turned nasty, with hail and rain pounding the area. A couple of SAR team members, George and Stefan, approached Dave and I and asked us if we could give them a ride down to Lake Como. George and Stefan were really friendly guys and conveyed the SAR situation to us. A woman with Epilepsy had suffered a seizure and later dislocated her shoulder from a fall. Her injuries were severe enough to merit SAR extraction due to her pain. The entire story can be found on the link above or in the trip report posted by someone involved. It really is a fascinating tale that many mountaineers can learn from.

Here are the lessons I personally learned from the SAR incident: 1) Be sure to find out if your hiking partner(s) have a medical condition. If they do, learn about how it afflicts them and how to treat it. Additionally, make sure your group agrees on the rules of engagement - how you will handle an emergency. These are important things to consider before hiking with others, especially strangers. 2) If you have a medical condition - please disclose it to your fellow hikers before they agree to hike with you. Fully disclosing this to your partners is only fair and offers them the opportunity to learn more and to decide if they want to take on the risk of accompanying you on the hike. If your medical condition worsens while climbing, please turn-around and head back to camp before the situation worsens and SAR is called.

Blue Lake before the storm

Blue Lake during the storm

Blue Lake after the storm

The waterfall seen above Blue Lake, just before the headwall of Blanca Peak.

Dave and I returned to camp and ate dinner. Our group spent some time around a camp-fire, exchanging stories with some hikers that had came down from helping the SAR team. Dave and I eventually crashed and set the alarm for 4 AM. Given that there was a lot of lightning and rain that night, we wanted to get an early start on Little Bear.

We woke up at 4:30 after mashing the snooze button a few times and set away for the Little Bear turn-off at the top of the hill above Lake Como. We scrambled the boulders and made our way up the very steep gully leading to Little Bear's ridge. Caution should be taken in this gully, as the rock is loose. We made quick work of the gully and stopped to take some photos.

Looking west towards Alamosa.

The steep gully leading to Little Bear's ridge.

Ellingwood Point at sunrise

Dave at the top of the gully.

We made our way across the mountainside, just below the ridge towards Little Bear. The trail is faint but well-marked by cairns and is easy terrain. We reached about the half-way mark from the gully and Little Bear and gained our first great views of Little Bear.

Dave takes shelter with Little Bear's impressive face behind him.

Dave's Cave.

We quickly made our way to the base of Little Bear and were greeted by the famous Hourglass. The Hourglass is the deadliest section of this climb, for obvious reasons. Water runs down the center of this narrow and steep gully, forcing climbers higher to the left in order to get past the start of the gully. The whole section above the Hourglass is referred to as "The Bowling Alley," since rocks kicked down from above are all funnelled inwards, creating a dangerous situation for those climbing up. Since we wanted to avoid rockfall from above, we were glad we got up early and were the first to reach the Hourglass. Since it had rained a lot the night before, the rocks everywhere in the Hourglass were wet. We were able to find some patches of dry rock and slowly and meticulously made our way up the gully.

The Hourglass.

Matt Payne ascends the Hourglass. Note the steepness and wetness of the rock. Handhold and foothold selection was paramount to success.

A fall here would have been fatal. Take caution!

The first 10 - 20 feet of the Hourglass are scary. Holds are minimal and the rock is wet. Extra special caution should be taken here and only those comfortable climbing class 4 and class 5 terrain should continue. If you're afraid of heights, this is not for you. Routefinding in the Hourglass was fairly difficult. The rocks were all wet and dirt was loose, making our climb upwards a slow and calculated process. We were eventually able to find some cairns to the left of the Hourglass and make our way up to the summit. The summit itself provided insane views of Blanca Peak, Ellingwood Point, the Spanish Peaks, Mount Lindsey, and the rest of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Dave tops out on Little Bear's summit.

A great view of the connecting ridge between Little Bear and Blanca Peak. The traverse between Blanca and Little Bear is considered one of the most difficult in the State of Colorado.

A 360⁰ panoramic photo from the summit of Little Bear Peak - click on photo for full resolution version.

We also got to witness the SAR extraction of the injured climber.

Flight for Life rescues an injured climber.

Dave on the summit of Little Bear.

Matt Payne on the summit of Little Bear.

Matt and Dave on the summit - using a self-timer.

One of the neat things you can see from the summit of Little Bear is the crop circles down in the San Luis Valley.

Clouds roll over Ellingwood Point and Blanca Peak.

A group of two climbers joined us on top for a short time and we all agreed to down climb together, as to avoid rockfall.

The wind was quite chilly on the summit, so we departed after spending no more than 30 minutes on top. The four of us made our way down to the start of the roped section of the Hourglass. I was concerned with how this was going to work, given the steepness and wetness of the rock here. Our plan was to use the rope as a handhold and slowly descend while facing the rock, one at a time. The process turned out to be quite the success, as none of us slipped or had difficulty making our way down the roped and scary section.

Looking up at the fixed rope in the Hourglass

Dave is ready to downclimb the Hourglass.

Looking down the Hourglass and the wet terrain.

Dave starts down the Hourglass.

After successfully making it down through the Hourglass, the four of us headed back over below the ridge of Little Bear. We all decided to go up and over the ridge instead of below, which enabled us to get some great views of Lake Como and the surrounding area, including Ellingwood Point.

Ellingwood Point sits at the top of the Lake Como basin.

Dave with Little Bear in the background.

Dave and Lake Como.

Little Bear and the Lake Como basin.

Little Bear splits two valleys.

Matt on the Little Bear ridge.

We made it back safely to our campsite and quickly packed up and drove down. Dave's Jeep once again performed quite well over the obstacles going down.

Overall, I would rate Little Bear as one of the most difficult 14ers. The exposure and risk at the Hourglass, coupled with the rockfall potential, make Little Bear very dangerous and not for the beginner climber. I would highly recommend climbing helmets and would even advocate the use of rope and a harness with belay devices for the down-climb. If you're in need of a good climbing helmet, this one from Backcountry.com looks go be a nice buy.

Update on the injured climber we saw on Ellingwood Point: I posted what we had witnessed and discussed with the SAR team on a thread on 14ers.com, which erupted into a lively discussion about hiking with people that have pre-existing medical conditions. The consensus from that discussion was that it is very much the responsibility of someone with a pre-existing medical condition to disclose that condition to their fellow hikers before embarking on a hike, especially if that medical condition may place you or your partners in serious danger, such as what happened in this case. Unfortunately, Elisabeth did not respond well to that discussion on 14ers.com and basically called the whole forum a bunch of expletives. Later on, she sent me a private message requesting that I delete that thread because of the stress it had caused her and because she was unable to obtain employment because of the content of the thread. She claimed that she was being singled out becuase of her condition; however, my guess is that employers saw how immature her response to the whole situation was and did not want to hire someone with such a way of interacting with others. Anyways, I refused to delete the thread and she threatened to sue me for libel and slander because I had implied that her injury was a direct result of her pre-existing medical condition (which of course is not what I had typed at all). I had suggested that it was possible that her epilepsy could cause her to be weaker physically and that would cause you to have a higher probability of falling and hurting yourself. Anyways, I eventually had Bill at 14ers.com delete the thread but I still have the discussion saved as a .pdf if anyone is interested in reading it. Bottom line, I believe a lot can be learned from the mistakes of others, and we should embrace the opportunity to learn at all times.

The purpose of this article is to further educate the climbing community on lightning hazards. Hopefully, with a better, more complete understanding of the hazardous thunderstorm-prone weather in our favorite mountains, there will be a reduction in the number of deaths each year.

This article is re-posted with the permission of the original author, Casey Dorn from Wynnewood, PA. Casey is an aspiring meteorologist with 2 backyard weather stations that he built himself. He is well versed in Physics and Chemistry and has studied/researched them along with meteorology for about 6 years. His personal specialties are in severe weather and large scale snow storms.

Photo by Robin Wilson

As mountain climbers we all should know that being above treeline (or outdoors AT ALL in some situations) is BAD whenever a current or imminent threat for CTG lighting exists. To really drive this point home: THAT INCLUDES PLACES BELOW TREELINE AS WELL! Large, tall wood objects that point at the sky and catch fire do not serve as good protectors against powerful, tall object seeking, fire ingniting things! But, alas...most of us don’t climb with an emergency house in our backpack so it may be a better idea to learn more about mountain weather in the hope that it will save your life in the future. As you climb, you'll here a plethora of supposed "protections" from strikes while at altitude, but, to be brutally honest here, we need to have a discussion about meteorology and physics for a moment to examine whether or not you would win against a battle with lightning.

A discussion on mountain thunderstorms (the "why us" discussion).

We get thunderstorms in the mountains (especially in the rockies) due to two factors
1) Location
2) Elevation

On the first point, the rockies are situated in what I like to call a "mixing pot" of weather systems. We've got warm moist air coming up from the south, and cold, dry air from the west. Thunderstorms (compared to large scale rain/snow storms dependent on large scale weather systems), require mesoscale instability. In other words, thunderstorms form via convection. To demonstrate this, pretend you've got a pot of water on your stove. As the water heats up..it rises to the top of the pot where it cools, spreads out, and falls back down to be re-heated. Thats great and all, but we need MORE to get a thunderstorm.

If our pot was completely smooth on the inside, you'd be able to heat the water well above its boiling point without seeing any bubbles. The water becomes "super heated". Now, if you then dropped a pebble into that water, you'd see a sudden explosion in which all of that water turned to steam at once. In short: we need a "trigger" in the atmosphere to cause what is known as "explosive development" in clouds. Its just like your pot of water...in the morning it simmers and creates cumulus clouds. But, in the morning, the atmosphere can sometimes have what is known as an "inversion", where COOL air is above WARM air. Sometime during late morning, this inversion is impacted by the convective energy rising from the ground, and we get a sudden "trigger". Suddenly, we can get warm moist air to rise ABOVE the point of condensation (dew point), creating towering cumulus clouds that rise very high in our atmosphere. These clouds are then sheared by high altitude winds, we get an anvil, and poof...thunderstorm.

Now, in all of this...we've answered a few important points:

1) The reason thunderstorm development occurs so quickly is because its a small scale "mesoscale" feature that develops suddenly due to a "trigger".
2) We see cumulus clouds in the morning but don't see thunderstorms (generally) until the afternoon because of inversions found in our atmosphere.
3) The rockies are situated in a region which contains all the right ingredients for thunderstorm development.
4) IF YOU SEE EVEN ONE MODERATELY TALL CUMULUS CLOUD BY ABOUT 8:40 AM OR SO, EXPECT AFTERNOON THUNDERSTOMRS!!!!!!

Short expansion on #4: Since the sun doesn’t really get a good chance to heat things up until about 9:00am during the summer, clouds forming before that point indicate significant moisture and heat already exists in our atmosphere. All you need is a trigger.
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Elevation...mountains making the weather just that much worse.

I’m going to discuss this point from the perspective of a climber who has just climbed to the summit of Mt. Elbert.

Its 11:30am, and a thunderstorm has formed about 20 miles to my west. I’m not very concerned. Dry air mass thunderstorms (a typical, non front associated, joe schmo storm that doesn’t last very long) don’t normally last more than an hour. This is because the storm is not “tilted”. As the warm air rises, it forms an updraft that draws in warm, moist air..which rises...and draws in more warm, moist air (etc...). Now, once the developing storm reaches a certain height, it spreads out (from the convection discussion). For a short time, the updraft will continue...even as rain (and graupel) begin to fall from the storm. But, soon, the downdraft (comprised of cool, rain filled air) chokes off the updraft of warm, moist air and the thunderstorm weakens, and dies. Now, I could transition this into a discussion on directional wind shear and how winds that change direction as a function of altitude would remedy this problem...but that isn’t quite so common in the Rockies (that deals more with severe thunderstorms in the plains).

Armed with this knowledge, I sit back and watch the thunderstorm rumble towards me, high altitude winds PUSHING IT FROM WEST TO EAST. But, as the storm approaches...it doesn’t dissipate like I thought it would. It chugs itself up the mountain and STRENGTHENS! In fact, I’ve ignored a very critical fact that is unique to the mountains.

The mountain is a roadblock in the path of the thunderstorm. It won’t go around it because the prevailing winds generally travel from west to east, so its forced upwards.

Now, as the storm complex is elevated, it begins to rise and reform. The storm will first grow more frayed, but in their place, new clouds will form into “turrets”, vibrant and dangerous.

The mountain forces the clouds to rise, initially causing them to grow colder. As temperatures drop, the air can hold less moisture, hence we see heavy rain and cloud shrinkage. But, the clouds also get a boost from the mountains. By the afternoon, the rock is warm, and thermal pockets are scattered like land mines throughout the rockies. Thermals are regions of rising air, and thunderstorms passing through get a “boost” from them, renewing the updraft and extending the life of the storm. As a side note, this process can also form stand alone storms that form directly above the mountains.

In addition, the storm will become stronger...or at least will appear to do so, as graupel (small hail) makes its way to the ground, pelting me as I hightail it off the mountain.

It is also at this point that I begin to notice a tingling sensation on my body. Not good....
As it turns out, these small ice pellets (graupel) have the effect of charge separation.

Ice particles form in clouds well below 32 degrees F. The reason is basically the same as the “boiling pot of water” idea I discussed earlier. Ice freezes ONTO A SURFACE. This could be dust, rock, hair, a hillbilly dancing in a circle...whatever! The important thing is that our conventional “ice cube” is filled with impurities upon which water has frozen into ice. In thunderstorm cloud tops at 30-60 K + feet....we don’t see that many of those things. So, at about 5 degrees F, tiny ice particles about 15 micrometers large begin to form. These act as nuclei for the water, which now quickly freezes onto the surface of the particle. These particles will grow larger and larger until the updraft is unable to keep them aloft, at which time they begin to fall through the cloud. As this happens, they induce charge separation. You see, as the particles bounce around up in the clouds, they collide with each other and with smaller ice particles. The graupel gets a negative charge, while the ice crystals get a positive charge. Since the ice particles are smaller, the updraft holds them aloft and forms into the anvil, while the larger graupel falls towards the ground.

Now, as the grapuel falls, it encounters ice particles that have formed much lower down in the cloud, and at these altitudes, the charge idea is reversed, collisions create a positive charge on grapuel and negative charge on the smaller ice particles, mainly due to the warmer temperatures found lower in the cloud. Now at the bottom of the cloud, the grapuel has a positive charge.

A storm builds over Arrow Peak as seen from Vestal Peak - photo by Matt Payne

Cross section of the storm at this point:
Top: positive
Middle: negative
Bottom: positive

Important to note! Because of the pattern I’ve just described, you’ll see intracloud lightning 1st because the storm doesn’t need to be as well developed to discharge between itself. The storm will discharge between opposite polarities, so top-middle or middle-bottom. This can occur even if the storm is only producing virga (precip not reaching the ground).

As the storm begins to produce observable precipitation (IE reaches the ground), you’ll [generally] begin to see CTG (Cloud to Ground lightning). CTG lightning will start under the shower curtain (area of precip reaching the ground), and gradually radiate outwards to approx 11 miles outside of the curtain. You ARE NOT safe within that radius.

Meanwhile, back on Elbert, I’m crouching down as I’ve begun to feel buzzing in my body and my hair is beginning to stand on end. My hair is standing up because the ground is positively charged. As the positive charge on the ground and negative charge in the middle of the cloud reach a maximum voltage difference, they start to reach towards each other...literally. The positive charge goes upwards (in the process passing through my body and making my hair stand up as it tries to repel itself), while the negative charge heads downwards in what is known as a “leader stroke”. When they meet, negative charge travels along the path of the leader stroke which has ionized the air (making it able to conduct a charge), and the negative charge in the cloud (electrons), transfer to the ground. The energy release is this process is so powerful that photons (light particles) are emitted and we see a flash of lightning, and the heat (hotter than the surface of the sun) causes air to expand rapidly around the bolt creating thunder.

It is for this reason that hair standing on end is a good indicator that something in my immediate area is about to be struck by lightning (which may or may not include me).

Some lightning math....you against lightning, who wins?

Lightning lasts for a very short time, but it is more than enough to kill me as I crouch down on Elbert.

Lets look at the math...
Lightning is DC (direct current)...equation for instant power (IE we divide by seconds)
P=IV Where “P” is power in Watts (joules/sec), “I” is current through measured in amperes, V is the potential difference, measured in volts.

Numbers: 5,000-20,000 amps of current goes through your body.
About 500,000,000 volts, (peak-instant).
About .2 seconds total for the entire electrical sequence, made up of many discharges (flashes) of about 1 millisecond.

Power: billions of volts.

Heat: 54,000 degrees F.

Ouch...

All things considered, this data quite frankly shows that lightning striking you directly...will kill you. It really doesn’t matter if you crouch down, stand up, do the Macarena, offer your soul to a squirrel...you’re toast, really, seriously! To those that quote the “80-90% survival rate”, the majority are NOT direct strikes. In truth, there are rare cases in which a person survives a direct strike..but really, do you want to test that theory out on a 14er? I don’t.

TO LESSEN THE EFFECTS OF A NON DIRECT STRIKE
(Note that I’m not guaranteeing this will work, it should, but if it doesn’t...I don’t want to get a subpoena...(etc)).

1) Take your backpack off, throw metal poles away (etc...). The correct position in a lightning crouch is difficult already, and with a backpack you risk imperfect technique...not good when your life depends on it...and METAL poles, metal this, metal that...self explanatory...lose it!

2) Crouch down at least 50 feet from other members of your group, heels together, toes apart. You should be up in releve? (fancy term for being on the ball of the foot/tip toes). DO NOT PUT THE ENTIRE FOOT ON THE GROUND. You want to have as little of your body touching the ground as possible!!! You want your heels touching so that current running through the ground enters one foot, then goes directly to the other foot and exits, instead of going all the way through the body (remember...we’re not trying to prevent direct strikes here but rather residual current...a true direct strike will certainly kill you).

3) In releve and crouched, push your knees out to the side as far as they can go (like doing a butterfly stretch, but standing).

3) Cover your ears with your hands but keep your elbows out to the sides. It is best to keep your elbows from resting on your knees just in case current running through your feet makes its way up the legs...i.e., to your brain if elbow connects to knee. If you get tired of holding the pose though, resting on the knees would be better than dropping out of the crouch.

4) Crouch your head down towards your chest..again, another reason to have legs turned out...knees+possible electricity+head=really bad.

Remember that this crouch WILL NOT protect you against a direct strike, nor is it a fail safe for any type of strike direct or otherwise. There is NO magic cure against lightning, because we are made of water and easily damaged organs...while lightning is 54,000 degrees and contains enough electricity to power a moderately sized city for a month. Perhaps the best solution may be to get off the mountain sooner....

And through all this, I haven't even mentioned the wonderful time you'll have trying to descend from one of these mountains after a downpour...even if you DON'T get struck... 

Through this article, I hope that I have helped explain at least one weather awareness fact that wasn’t already known. I just couldn’t stand reading the posts of some forums that felt that the precautions were stupid/chances were low (etc...). People DO die from lightning strikes, especially in the mountains. Indeed, we don’t have that many of them out here in the Rockies...but it isn’t for lack of storms (as many of us can attest). Its because we always find members of our climbing groups that do the right thing and make sure we head down when weather threatens. But as of late, I feel that some (myself included) have gotten so used to the lack of weather related deaths on peaks that we’ve begun to take risks with our lives that we all know are extremely foolhardy. I’m being generic here, and I’m sure that most of us remain strong followers of the 12:00pm rule...but hey, when you're only 100 ft from the summit...

This year, we’ve already heard of an above-normal number of deaths in the mountains. This is my opinion mind you...but perhaps we can avoid at least some of the deaths by becoming more educated about the risks involved with our endeavors.

For more on mountaineering safety, please read this 100summits.com article.

Interesting statistics:

Start time: 5:30 AM

Summit time (Huron): 9 AM

Summit time (Browns): 11 AM

Finish time: 1:20 PM

Mileage up: 3.6

Mileage down: 4.2

Total mileage: 7.8

Huron Peak Elevation: 14,003 ft.

Browns Peak Elevation: 13,523 ft.

Total elevation gain: 3,900 ft.

Total photos taken: 219

GPS map of our route (ascent in red, descent in blue):

This trip report begins with an interesting back story. I had a new member join my site in May from South Dakota. This member eventually messaged me on Facebook and asked if he could join me on some of my climbs this year. After learning about my plans to attempt Huron that very weekend, he decided to join me. Mike Vetter drove all the way down from Sioux Falls, South Dakota on Saturday, June 5th to climb with me. Mike is the CEO of DataSync - a successful start-up software company. Our route to reach the trail-head was very simple: we drove west on Highway 24 to Buena Vista and turned left on Chaffee County Road 390 heading west. After driving about 14 miles on a dirt road, we turned left at the old mining town of Winfield and continued west another 2 miles to our campsite near the trail-head. We left my house at about 6:30 PM and reached our campsite near the Huron trail-head at approximately 10 PM.

On the way to Buena Vista, we were able to get some great views of the sun setting over the Northern Sangre de Cristo Mountain range:

We set-up our tents in the dark and set our alarms for 4 AM and hit the sack. A few cars drove past during the night, presumably looking for camp spots. Fortunately, the vehicles did not disturb my sleep too badly and I was able to get some quality rest. The alarm sounded at 4 AM and I hurried to get dressed and tear down my tent. As we were getting camp taken down, a skiier passed us, informing us that he was going to ski down Ice Mountain. I'm pretty sure this person was "benners" from 14ers.com. We were able to quickly break down our campsite and cook some oatmeal for breakfast before debarking for Huron's trail-head at 5:30 AM.

Mike and I were able to make quick work up to the trail-head and soon there-after, the sun broke through to light up the tips of the surrounding peaks in Silver Basin, including Virginia Peak and Granite Mountain:

Silver Basin illuminates a small lake

A closer look at the sunrise

Virginia Peak (right of center)

Virginia Peak

Sunrise hitting Granite Mountain

Sunrise hits Granite Mountain and Virginia Peak

Mike and I were energized by the great views of the valley across from us and made excellent time up the steep trail. Mike kept up with me as we blazed the trail. He did amazing considering he lives at 1,442 ft. and was not acclimated to the high elevation of Colorado yet.

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Mike Vetter proves he's got what it takes to climb mountains in Colorado

Matt Payne (author) hiking up Huron

An hour and 15 minutes after we started hiking from our camp, the first view of the Three Apostles came into view. The Three Apostles are a group of 13ers located up the valley from Huron, and contain two of the highest 100 in Colorado, Ice Mountain (13,951 ft.) and North Apostle (13,860 ft.). West Apostle is also respectable at 13,568 ft.

The Three Apostles come into view for the first time

Soon thereafter, one of our objectives for the day came into view as well: Huron. Huron appeared above us like a giant pyramid, as if it were guarding some ancient treasure within its rocky shell.

Huron Peak comes into view for the first time

The moon sits over Huron Peak

Huron Peak in the early light

Huron, the Three Apostles, and Granite Mountain greet the rising sun

Now that we could see the beginnings of the amazing views, Mike became more and more awestruck by the Colorado Rockies. It was a real pleasure hiking with someone that shared the same level of appreciation for Colorado's awesome peaks. Mike and I exchanged photos of each other.

Mike Vetter looking excited in front of the Three Apostles

Matt Payne with the Three Apostles in the background

As we gained more elevation, views across the valley were getting even better. I noticed a long waterfall snaking down the side of Granite Mountain and decided that I wanted to try to capture a zoomed-in view of that waterfall. I took about 10 photos of the side of the mountain at 200mm and combined them into this photo:

Snow forms a waterfall down the side of Granite Mountain

I also wanted to get a zoomed in shot of the Three Apostles using the same method. Here are the results (click on the photo to see the super-hi-res version):

The Three Apostles in high detail

We continued to climb past treeline and up to Huron's base. I took some opportunities to take multiple photos of the views and stitched some photos together for a panoramic view.

Looking South and West, Huron casts a shadow over Granite Mountain

We quickly made our way up into the basin below Huron and were greeted by a giant snowfield. Normally, I welcome the sight of snow; however, the snow we encountered was very soft, with marshy streams and pools of water beneath. It was very much like crossing a field filled with 7-11 Slushies.

We made it through the slush and continued up the basin beneath Huron. The terrain was solid and only mildly wet from snowmelt. At this point, the sun had crested Browns Peak and began to heat the surrounding area.

Mike Vetter squinting into the sun on our approach of Huron

We continued to climb up towards Huron, following the trail through and around large snow fields. At this point, it was clear that snowshoes or other assistive devices would be fairly useless and I was glad I brought neither. As we gained elevation, the views of Browns Peak as well as the Elk Mountains began to get better and better.

Browns Peak sits to the North of Huron Peak

We made really great time up Huron, despite its relative steepness and other aforementioned challenges (did I mention Mike lives 13,000 ft. lower than Huron). Huron's summit block loomed over us, making us feel pretty small compared to this giant choss pile. The trail up this section of Huron was clearly maintained and the efforts of Colorado Fourteeners Initative to improve the trail were apparent.

Huron Peak's summit block

Matt Payne (author) hiking up Huron's Peak

We finally reached the ridge between Browns Peak and Huron Peak and were warmly welcomed by a giant cornice sitting at the top of the ridge.

A giant cornice on Huron's ridge

The final push to the top of Huron took exactly 10 more minutes. The views from Huron Peak were absolutely outstanding. Being somewhat more isolated than most of the other 14'ers in the Sawatch Range, Huron Peak offers excellent views of the rest of the Sawatch Range and the Elk Mountains as well. Mike and I were the first to summit that day, and spent an hour on top celebrating, eating, and taking large amounts of photographs.

Hero shot of Matt Payne on top of Huron Peak

Matt Payne gazes South towards the Three Apostles

360 Degree View from the top of Huron Peak (click for full resolution version)

A 180 Degree View from North to South from Hurons Peak. The Three Apostles at center.

Mount Hope (the flat topped mountain) rests right of center. La Plata Peak rests far left.

The Elk Mountains loom in the distance, covered in snow.This photo is zoomed in at 200mm. Pyramid Peak, Maroon Peak, Snowmass Mountain, and Capitol Peak can all be seen from this vantage. Click on the image for the super hi-resoltution version.

Taylor Reservoir can be seen in the distance, reflecting the surrounding mountains (click for full resolution version)

A closer look at the Sawatch Mountains south of Huron. Mount Antero, Mount Shavano, and Tabeguache Peak are all recognizable.

A zoomed in view of the Southern Sawatch mountains

Shavano and Tabeguache (high pointed peak and flat snowed peak respectively)

North Apostle and Ice Mountain zoomed in. If you click on the image you can see the full resolution version (and the climber atop North Apostle. I've confirmed that this climber is "Mad Mike" from 14ers.com

Mount Yale and Mount Princeton seen in the distance

La Plata Peak seen to the North of Huron across the valley

A great view of the Three Apostles from Huron

A 90 degree view looking Northeast, North, and Northwest from Huron

A vertically-oriented panoramic view of the Three Apostles

Matt Payne leaning to allow for a better view of the Three Apostles

Matt Payne and Mike Vetter on top of Huron Peak

At this point we decided that after an hour of being on the summit we should head down to the ridge and make an attempt on Browns. Once down-climbing to the ridge, we were able to get a view of what we just climbed, decorated with a fair amount of snow still.

Still a lot of snow on Huron's eastern face

We took a look at our route - a straight ridge scramble to PT 13,518 and then to Browns.

PT 13,518 and Browns were a straight shot from Huron's ridge. Mount Hope seen in the background.

We quickly scrambled up PT 13,518 without any problems and looked back at Huron. The further away we got from Huron, the more we could appreciate just how steep it was.

Huron rises high above PT 13,518 to the Northwest

A zoomed in view of Huron from PT 13,518

A wider view of Huron and the surrounding terrain

After reaching PT 13,518, we took a look over to our next and final objective: Browns Peak.

Browns Peak looked fairly easy with La Plata Peak behind it

On the way over to Browns, we were able to get a really awesome view of a nasty cornice, which looked more like a frozen tidal wave.

A huge cornice sitting in the saddle between PT 13,518 and Browns

A closer view of the cornice

A super-zoomed in view of the cornice

After a bit of mild scrambling, Mike and I reached the summit of Browns in quick order. The clouds were looking to get worse and worse, so we decided that after Browns that we would go ahead and head back down to the trail below us, making our own route down off of Browns and connecting with the Huron trail.

Mike Vetter celebrating on the summit of Browns

Matt Payne points back to Huron from Browns

We dropped off the north face of Browns just a few hundred feet and went straight down a scree gully. The dirt was quite loose but manageable. Soon after reaching the basin for Huron again, we were greeted by another large snow-field, which presented some pretty awful post-holing up to our wastes. Fortunately, my boots and gaiters kept my feet completely dry!

Matt Payne descending from Browns

After reaching the trail again, we headed back down the way we came and crossed the insane snow-field at the base of Huron. After a days worth of sunlight, the snow-field was quite soft and presented us with some unique and 'wet' hiking challenges.

Matt Payne crossing the slushy on Huron

Once we reached the bottom of the snow-field, the way down was pretty quick to treeline and below to the trailhead and eventually my vehicle.

All-in-all, this was an amazing trip filled with great views. And I must say, I could not have hiked with a better guy. Thanks for driving down and climbing with me Mike!

To complete the trip report, here are three HDR photos I combined. I am new to HDR but I do like how it can enhance the light.

Until next time, enjoy Colorado's summits!

My goal for my first 14'er of 2010 was to summit Mount Shavano (14,229 ft) and then traverse over to Tabeguache Peak (14,155 ft). I had made this attempt last year at the end of May and was able to make it to the top of Shavano but was pushed off the summit by weather, subsequently postponing my summit of Tabeguache. Last year, I climbed the standard route of Shavano, which was a good adventure; however, I wanted to attempt the Angel route this time. Having watched several people ascent via this route last year, I was both intrigued and puzzled as to why someone would put themselves through this much torture. Then after a summer of climbing harder climbs, I figured out why - the challenge and diversity of a new route and the fun of going up a snowfield with an ice axe! Here are two photos from last year's climb, looking down at the Angel route:

My adventure began by driving from Colorado Springs to the Trailhead on Friday, May 21st, 2010. First, let me apologize, I believe that my camera's sensor needs to be cleaned, as many of my images have a slight smudge that is in the middle near the top. Having created this website since last year, I decided that on my way over that I would get a few photos of the Sawatch and Mosquito/Tenmile range from the top of Wilkerson Pass. Fortunately, the weather did cooperate for a few great photo opportunities:

After a quick drive through South Park, I made it to the turn-off for the Trailhead near Salida. Near the beginning of the road, I took the time to take some photos of Shavano. The Angel was looking great!

I even played around a little with some bracketing on my camera for this so-so HDR product:

The road was in great shape and it seemed as if there were far less cars this time around. Heck, there were even some deer hanging out!

I decided to drive up the road a-ways to check-out the camping areas. I was pleasantly surprised to find quite a few spots to camp and decided on a spot at the end of a huge meadow. Here is my sad attempt at an HDR photo of that meadow. I really like the way the tree turned out. You can see my vehicle in the far distance on the right:

Since I had some time to kill, I decided to take a few photos of the surrounding area. Hunts Peak:

Hunts Peak and surrounding area:

Mount Ouray HDR's:

Mount Shavano is the little bump in the middle:

I decided to hit the sack early and sleep with the rainfly off of the tent. This proved to be a great idea because the sky was clear and the stars were bright and numerous! I set the alarm for 4 AM, since I wanted to get up, cook breakfast, and pack my tent before hitting the trail. The alarm sounded and I woke up and fired up some water and ate some pretty decent oatmeal from Costco. I packed up and drove the very short distance back to the trailhead and was on the trail by 5:15 AM. The parking lot was still surprisingly empty except for two other vehicles. I soon was feeling the negative effects of packing so heavily - I had brought my snowshoes, ice axe, trekking poles, crampons, water, lots of food, and warmer clothes. The trail was as steep as I remembered and the snow was showing up on the trail far sooner than my trip last year. Before long, snow drifts blocked the trail in several places. Fortunately, the snow had hardened from the previous day and was passable without the use of snowshoes. I followed the trail until it began to become harder and harder to follow. I made sure to follow other climbers up the valley and towards what I knew was the Angel. Instead of heading North along the standard trail, I kept South and ended up at the start of the large boulder field before the Angel begins. As I climbed to the top of the boulder field, the Angel came into view and I was able to really see the challenge for the day. The Angel route takes you directly up the center of the Angel and then up the right arm or straight up, depending on the snow and your preference.

I kept heading up and soon was greeted by the nasty wind that was forecast for this weekend - up to 60 MPH gusts of wind. Oh joy! As I continued up the boulders and snow fields, I was finally able to reach the base of the Angel, where I decided to put away the trekking poles and get out the ice axe. I use an old Chouinard ice axe that was passed down to me by my dad (Old Climber on this site). The reasoning for the use of an axe while going up the Angel is two-fold: 1) For self-arrest if I were to slip and 2) Aid in climbing. A few skiers and snowboarders were ahead of me, making it somewhat easier to follow their footsteps instead of creating my own steps in the snow.

I quickly discovered that crampons were not needed, so that was somewhat of a bummer realizing that I had lugged them up there for no reason. I was beginning to think the same about my snowshoes, but they actually proved quite useful later on. The Angel of Shavano was not a terribly difficult climb, but it was taxxing on my legs and lungs. I was quite aware that this was my first climb of the season. I persevered up the Angel and decided to stay in the middle of the Angel, despite all other groups going to the right or left on the arms of the Angel. What can I say - I'm a rebel. The snow in this part was pretty good and traction was easily gained with my La Sportiva Trango boots. The hardest part of this climb was my lack of stamina and the wind. The wind really took a toll on my strength and took every opportunity to sap me of any will I had to continue past Shavano. After hiking for 6 hours, I finally gained the summit and celebrated with two outstanding gentlemen that had skied up and were planning to ski down. One skier identified himself as 'steventraylor' from 14ers.com. They were both very friendly and it was a pleasure sharing the mighty summit of Shavano with them. I explained to both of them about my website and am hopeful that more and more people can take advantage of this platform to post thier reports and photos. The wind had really caused quite a bit of dust to fill the air around the state, and visibility was not as great as I prefer for photography; however, it was still great getting to see all those white-capped mountains! I was able to get Steven to take this summit shot of me, with Mount Antero and the rest of the mighty Sawatch range behind me:

I took a few looks over at Tabeguache and declared that I would not have the energy to make it over. This was quite demoralizing for me since Tabegauche was the whole reason I had done this climb. Tabegauche is now my nemesis and will be conquered in 2011! Here is a shot of Tab:

The Sangres shrouded in dust:

And of course I did some fun pano photos:

Here is a zoomed in look of Antero (far right), with Columbia and Harvard to its left:

Since I had decided that I was not going to head over to Tabeguache, I spent some time enjoying the views and snacking on some chocolate covered espresso beans. I took a couple more "artsy" photos using my ice axe as a prop:

After about an hour, I decided to bug-out and head down. The descent was pretty straight forward; however, being in boots and not skis, the snow proved slippery and was soft, making for some interesting post-holing. I quickly decided that this was a perfect opportunity to test my skills in glissading. I sat on my butt and ensured that my ice axe was securely attached to my wrist. I placed the axe to my right side like a parking break and used it to control my speed going down. I made a quick detour over to the top of Point 13,617 just to say I was on top of it. The wind over there was outrageous! I was only able to take a few photos from there. The first photo is Shavano and the second is Antero:

I began glissading again, but the snow was more like ice on the North arm of the Angel, so I foolishly decided to scurry over to the standard trail once I crossed it. The trail looked really clear but this proved false. As I continued on the trail for about 200 yards, the snow fields became un-crossable. The snow had covered the snow and was so soft that it was a post-holing nightmare and a safely concern. I decided that I might as well make use of the snowshoes I had carried all this way and put them on. I wore them and used them to safely cross Shavano's shoulder down to some snow-free areas. I took off the snowshoes and went straight down the mountainside and down into the valley near where the Angel route begins. I followed some tracks back down the valley until I was able to meet up with the main trail again. I would highly recommend that if you ascent via the Angel, you also descent the same way. The snow on the trail coming down was very soft and post-holing was common past your knees. It was not enjoyable to say the least. I concluded my adventure and drove back to Colorado Springs, and hope to tackle Mount Huron in two weeks!

What an adventure! Never in my dreams did I think I would ever conquer the mighty Crestone Needle and Crestone Peak. After seeing them from two years ago, I figured I’d never have the testicular fortitude to attempt them. Here is Crestone Needle and Crestone Peak (right of Crestone Needle) as seen from the summit of Humboldt.

Alas – when I read my friend's itinerary for his mountain climbs back in April 2009, I saw the Crestones and decided it would be the best chance I’d get to give them a shot…

My friend Terry picked me up from my house at 5 AM on Thursday morning. We headed out for the long journey towards Buena Vista and eventually the small town of Crestone. The route Terry chose for these climbs was a rarely traveled backpacking trail from the west side of the mountains, up the Cottonwood Creek drainage.

The trailhead is on private property owned by the Manitou Foundation, a religious organization set-up to provide property easements for the purpose of religious worship and pilgrimage. Earlier this month, Terry was able to obtain written permission from the Manitou Foundation to park on their property and begin up the trail towards Crestone Needle and Crestone Peak. Below is a map of the route we ended up taking on our adventures.

We arrived at the trailhead around 10 AM after driving around the area looking for the proper place to begin our hike. Due to the fact that this trail is off-limits to the general public, trail maintenance has not occurred on the trail for many years. The trail was very primitive and at many points in our day we lost the trail due to having to hike around heavy deadfall (basically a ton of dead trees blocking the trail). In addition to the trail being very faint, the trees in this forest were covered in heavy moss and spider webs. The spider webs were getting all over us and getting in our face, making the hike up quite the annoying yet adventurous journey.

This was quite possibly the most intesnse bushwhacking, insane trail I've been on with a heavy backpack. At many times, the route was not visible at all, and the trail is lost easily. Take caution! The trail led us to a very pristine waterfall, one of many.

We scanned the area constantly for cairns in order to find our way. Unfortunately, a set of cairns led us up a very steep and rocky section that lasted for at least thirty minutes, but allowed for us to avoid some wet slab-like rocks that would have presented their own unique challenge. The rocky section was quite difficult given the fact that I had a 60 pound backpack on.

During our trek up the trail, I kept a close eye on my GPS, which has the TOPO! maps from National Geographic synced up with it. I monitored our position to ensure we were heading the right direction. As we approached a split in the trail that was critical to our route, I became nervous as the GPS showed our direction

heading up the wrong trail on several occasions. This resulted in Terry and I doing some bushwhacking through some heavily wooded areas and up a very steep gully towards our proper destination. Finally, our bushwhacking paid off when we found the proper trail leading up towards Cottonwood Lake

(where we had tentatively planned on making camp). Terry noticed that the trail we had found was the very trail we had left to do the bushwhacking, so it would seem that the trail splitting to the southeast was never revealed to us. After a very short time, we came to a very ideal campsite underneath a waterfall at the base of a large boulder field. At this point we had been hiking for 5 hours and decided we would camp here.

Here’s a nice 360 view of our campsite.

After setting-up camp, eating, and taking in some pretty sweet views of the waterfall right next to our camp (pictured below), I decided to take a quick hike up to see if I could get a sneak peek at Crestone Needle. (pictured below the flower). Seeing Crestone Needle brought some anxiety mixed with excitement to me, and I began thinking about the difficult climb we were about to attempt.

Terry set his alarm for 5 AM, which came way to soon given the level of exhaustion we had reached during our backpack up that crazy trail. We quickly ate breakfast and started up the steep trail above our campsite towards Cottonwood Lake. The trail was once again poorly maintained and poorly marked. We followed some cairns here and there up a large basin full of willows, spiders and steep waterfalls. Terry got a cool photo of one of ths high-altitude spiders we saw:

We decided to head east once we were quite high in the basin below Crestone Peak and Crestone Needle. About 3/4 of the way up the basin my daypack decided it would break, so I was forced to jerry-rig it so that it would still work. The shoulder strap ripped from the hip area, so I tied it to another strap coming up from the hip belt. Whatever works! We reached the top of the basin and realized we were quite high above the lake and that we would need to down climb to the trail leading up to Broken Hand Pass. Unfortunately the photos I took from this vantage point did not come out as intended; however, Terry got a great shot of the vantage we had of Crestone Needle and Crestone Peak:

Once we down climbed to the trail leading up Broken Hand Pass, we were able to get to the far east area of the basin and head up towards Broken Hand Pass. Terry and I felt sorry for the climbers that chose to climb these two mountains from the other side of the pass, as they would be required to climb up it twice for each mountain – ouch!

Climbing up Broken Hand Pass, one does not have to stretch their imagination too far to see why it is called Broken Hand Pass, as you can see a view of some rock that looks exactly like a closed fist that is next to what appears to be a second arm that has the hand broken off of it.

At the top of the pass, a large pulley system is set-up, with ropes and an intricate system of PVC pipes. Terry and I did not have much of a clue as to what this was for, but we later found out that day that the Rocky Mountain Field Institute uses the device to hoist large rocks from the top of the pass down the north side of the pass to fix the trail to prevent erosion.

From the top of Broken Hand Pass, we were able to check out the lower South Colony Lake and Humboldt across the way. Here’s a nice panoramic photo of that view:

At this point, Terry and I decided it was a good time to don our climbing helmets, a first for me in all of my mountain climbing adventures. From here we could see Crestone Needle looming above us, taunting us with its intimidating rock formations that we would be forced to carefully scale.

You can see two distinct gullies, one directly facing us, and another to its left, obscured by a rib running the length of the Needle. The standard route up the Needle takes you half-way up the east gully and then over the rib to the west gully and up to the summit. It sounds a lot more simple than it really is.

We followed the well-established trail over to the base of the east gully and started up. The rock on Crestone Needle is most impressive, a climber’s dream.

The entire mountain is made up of a mixed conglomerate of granite, quartz, and other rock. The rock had numerous large rocks cemented together making it quite easy to locate hand-holds and foot-holds for climbing. Here is a view up the east gully.

Terry and I were quite pleased with how solid the rock was and how stable the route seemed to be.

The hard part of climb was finally upon us – the transfer from the east gully to the west gully. The east gully takes you to a large dihedral with a large amount of snow at its base. We were forced to cross right at this snow over to the other side of the gully. This required a very unstable move by which we were forced to smear ourselves to the side of the wall, reach up, and push off and up at an angle to the more stable ledge just above the end of the dihedral.

We scrambled up the side of the gully up to a notch leading over to the west gully. Here is a shot of me climbing up the west gully courtesy of Terry. You can tell that this was not a good place to be for someone that is afraid of heights.

I was able to take some nice shots combined into pano of the gully looking down towards the basin we came from to give you a good idea of the steepness of the climb.

After climbing up the west gully for about 600 feet, we reached the summit block of Crestone Needle! I was very eager to gain the summit, so I passed

Terry and celebrated on top.

This was probably one of the most invigorating climbs of my life. Here’s a 360 degree panoramic photo from the summit. Apologize for some image quality issues...

I have since figured out how to use my camera... Colony Baldy and Humboldt can be seen on the left to the left of Terry. The southern Sangres can be seen in the distance including Blanca, Little Bear, and Ellingwood Point and of course the Sand Dunes National Park. At right are Crestone Peak with Kit Carson, Challenger Point, and Kat Carson to its right. Finally, Mt. Adams can be viewed at far right.

Here’s another pano to the north and northeast showing Crestone Peak, Kit Carson, Challenger Point, Mount Adams, Colony Baldy, and Humboldt.

And another view north and northwest of Broken Hand Mountain, Milwaukee Peak, Pico Aislado and of course the Southern Sangres.

And yet another view of the upper South Colony Lake beneath Humboldt and with the Sangres to our south.

Terry was nice enough to take a shot of me on the top, with Crestone Peak behind me.

After spending about 30 minutes on top, we decided to head down. It was pretty cool having the summit of a 14er to ourselves. On the way down,

Terry snapped this shot of me looking up the west gully.

We were able to reach the bottom of the gullies without incident. The rock was super stable and I really can’t say enough good things about how fun this climb is.

From the start of the gully section, I went over to a spot where I was able to look down upon Cottonwood Lake and the basin we climbed up from.

We climbed up from the basin on the right.

We got back down to Broken Hand Pass, chatted with the Rocky Mountain Field Institute for a bit, and headed down towards the lake. We passed a few people that had been on Crestone Peak and learned that we would indeed need our ice axes for Crestone Peak. Due to how tired we were, we decided that we would have to do Crestone Peak on day 3. We got near the lake and I decided to take some shots for this pano of our surroundings.

On the way back down the basin towards our camp, I decided to build some cairns to ensure we would be able to find the best possible route up the trail again in the morning. We made it back down to our campsite, ate, and went to sleep. We were both really tired and decided to get up an hour later the next day so that the sun would have more time to soften up the snow on Crestone Peak for our ascent.

Day 3 – Crestone Peak. We woke up at 6 AM and headed back up the basin towards Crestone Peak.

We followed my cairns and made great time, reaching the base of Crestone Peak at about 7:30 AM. There was a couple of groups ahead of us in the “red gully,” the standard route up the peak. Due to this, we knew that we would have to be cautious of rock-fall from above during our climb up.

At the base of Crestone Peak, I took some photos for this pano. You can see the red gully running right up the middle of the mountain with snow lining much of the route.

We started up the red gully, which was a tiring and difficult task. Right before we reached the main snowfield near the top, the group above us kicked down a very large boulder and screamed “ROCK!” It spun rapidly towards us down the gully. It passed about 20 feet away from us and Terry yelled below to warn those behind us coming up the gully.

The rocks falling down from above were fairly common, so we were forced to remain very vigilant going up.

We were able to avoid the first two snowfields but the third and largest we decided to go right straight up. We got out our ice axes and began our ascent,

with a group on our heels. Terry kick-stepped up the mountain slowing, driving his axe into the snow in between each step. It was an arduous but very fun process.

I was just totally excited to be using my dad’s ice axe for the first time. At the top of the snowfield, we were about 200 feet from the top of the gully. We made it to the top, avoiding the looser rock in this area in order to prevent us from killing those below us.

The pucker factor was not as high as I thought it would be despite the steepness and exposure, as seen by this shot Terry took:

Once at the saddle at the top, it was a quick scramble to our left to the summit. From the summit, you gain pretty sweet views of Crestone Needle pictured at left of this pano.

You also get some nice views of Kit Carson and Challenger, which would be our goals for next weekend.

And of course the obligatory summit pose:

We spent almost an hour on top, most of which was in the company of several other climbers. We decided to head down as the clouds began to build near us.

We decided to decent the snow, and I wanted to go all the way down the snow, while Terry departed the snow as soon as he was able. I really felt like the snow as soft and that there

was no risk of falling. I felt pretty comfortable about going down the snow, especially with my new best friend – the ice axe. Here’s a picture Terry took of me having a blast going down the snow.

We passed several groups going up and then stopped at the bottom of the red gully and beyond to take a photo of the basin, the peak, and the red gully above.

We slogged back down to our campsite and decided to pack-up and head back down the 3.5 miles back to Terry’s truck. It took us 3 hours to reach his vehicle at 8 PM and we left for Colorado Springs. Terry got some awesome shots of the sun setting to our west as we drove off into the sunset.

What a great trip, one I will remember for the rest of my life!

Short story: One of the most scenic and enjoyable hikes I’ve ever had the pleasure of doing.

Long story: On Friday evening I drove via I-25, C-470, and I-70 past Vail to the Tigwon Rd. near Minturn, CO. The total drive time was 3.5 hours.

I think I arrived at the trailhead at about 9 PM and prepared my luxurious accommodations:

I’ve been wanting to do Holy Cross for a long time. The famous views of the Cross Couloir are something I’ve been wanting to see since I was a little kid.

Not that I’m religious, but the mountain is probably one of the most recognizable peaks around due to the snow couloir shaped like a cross.

Apparently many people used to do pilgrimages to the Notch Mountain Shelter which was built in 1924 in order to see the famous peak. I chose the Notch Mountain trail and Halo Ridge route for this very reason – it brings you up to 13,000+ feet and keeps you there for 4-5 hours of hiking… sweet! Some more history about Holy Cross:

In the mid nineteenth century, as the high country of Colorado was being explored, reports of a peak with a cross on its side began to circulate. A while later, it became clear that there was a high mountain with a large cross on its side formed out of snow. Finally in the August of 1873, a survey party led by Dr. Ferdinand Hayden, and including the photographer William H. Jackson, ventured into the wilderness above the Eagle River and located Mount of the Holy Cross. On August 24, two parties set off in different directions, the first to attempt to climb Mount of the Holy Cross, and the second, which included Jackson, to climb Notch Mountain and hopefully photograph the cross. Both parties were successful that day; one making the first known ascent of Mount of the Holy Cross, and the other reaching the top of Notch Mountain.

In the decades that followed, the area became a popular destination for religious pilgrimages. In the mid-1920’s a stone cabin was erected on top of the southern ridge of Notch Mountain to accommodate visitors. Due to the popularity of the area, in 1929, the area was declared a national monument by Congress. In 1950, the national monument status was rescinded. – Photo and history credited to summitpost.org and Aaron Johnson.

This weekend promised to be one of the best weekends for climbing – the weather was projected to be totally clear and there was a near-full moon on the calendar. Due to these factors, I wanted to get up super early and try to catch the sunrise from 13,000+ feet – something I’ve not done in over 10 years. So I set my alarm for 3 AM and hit the sack. I woke up at 3 AM and got ready, groggily. It was kind of strange being all by myself in the dark, but I was excited to begin my adventure. Hiking solo was a perk because it meant I could set my clock for whatever time, spend as little or as much time as I needed to get to my destination, and not rely on others for anything. I could also listen to my I-pod, which was kind of fun. The only drawback was that I was doing a lesser-used route by myself and so I would need to be very careful not to get injured. I started at the Fall Creek Trailhead at 3:30 AM and hastily made my way up the side of Notch Mountain.

I counted over 40 switchbacks to the top of the ridge.

As I neared the top of the Notch Mountain ridge, I could not help but look back behind me to see the light change as the sun started to light up the horizon:

From the trailhead to the shelter was 5.1 miles, and I was able to get to the shelter at 5 AM, which means I made super-good time – 3.4 miles/hr.

with 2,673 ft. of elevation gain. The wind was really cold at 13,077 ft. (elevation of the shelter) so my hands were pretty much frozen – taking pictures

was pretty challenging… The good news was that my legs felt ridiculously strong and I was jamming out to some Solas – which totally reminded me of my friend Rob, who introduced me to that music a very long time ago. Jamming out to Irish music while watching the sunrise was pretty darn awesome. Anyways, here’s the shelter.

That little bump of a mountain at the end of the trail would be my first challenge of the day – UN 13,248. So the shelter was pretty awesome – it had steel cable attached to it at numerous locations leading to the ground, which acted as lightning protection.

I was pretty impressed with how sturdy it was, given it was built in 1924. Another neat feature of the shelter was that it had windows – windows that were clear enough to see a reflection in. I could not help but take my first photo of the famous Holy Cross:

The sun still had not crested the horizon, but the light was still amazing. I decided to get a nice panoramic photo of the shelter and Holy Cross – you can also see the reflection in this one:

And just before sunrise… with the moon above.

I’ve got to tell you – watching the sunrise over the Gore and Tenmile Ranges was pretty spectacular.

360 degrees of sunrise awesomeness:

Wait for it… wait for it… Woohoo! The sun rises! Amazing stuff.

I decided to start hiking towards my first destination but I kept stopping like every few feet taking photos – I was addicted to the insane light I had all around me despite the fact that my hands were frozen. My route would take me all the way up the peak to the left and up and around the ridges to the right of there and finally to the top of Holy Cross. The summit was a good 2 miles away and the route would never drop me below 13,000 feet for the rest of the day. The lighting on Holy Cross was very impressive – I really liked the red hue the sun was producing.I slowly made my way over towards PT 13,248. I finally made it to the top of PT 13,248 after about an hour of slow scrambling and photography, and took more pictures of my view – my favorite part about this hike was that my perspective was constantly but slowly changing.

Just on the other side of PT 13,248, I was able to see the rest of my route for the day – the ridge looked very straight-forward but LONG. And long it was…

My next objective was to conquer PT 13,373. The trek over to the base of PT 13,373 was very easy, but the route description states that reaching the top of PT 13,373 is the crux of this route. It was a very steep and rocky boulder-filled summit, with loose rocks and spider-webs everywhere.

The moon was in sharp contrast with the rock here…

Here’s a closer zoomed in view of the moon and cliff:

After some fun class 2+ climbing up, I reached the top of PT 13,373 and took some time to get a full view of my surroundings – 360 degrees worth:

You can really see how far I have climbed now – the shelter is just a small dot in the distance. This shot shows the route pretty nicely – with where I came from to the right and where I was heading to the left:

Check out how far away the shelter looked, zoomed in:

Well, time to head on over to the next goal – a ranked centennial – Holy Cross Ridge. Apparently my dad climbed Holy Cross via Holy Cross Ridge, and he did it via Tuhare lake, seen in this pano of Holy Cross Ridge (far right):

And here… with Holy Cross in view at far right and lower Tuhare lake at far left:

On the way over to the Holy Cross Ridge, I was able to get some really cool views of both Lake Tuhare on my left (south) and the Bowl of Tears to my right (north). This is one my favorite shots because you can see my shadow and I look super crazy, plus you can see both valleys (Holy Cross Ridge right down the middle):

And just because the view from here was so awesome, here’s another shot… :-)

And a look back at the Bowl of Tears and the Notch Mountain Shelter above it:

After making it across the long boulder field leading to Holy Cross Ridge (which would later prove to be the hardest part of the climb due to numerous false summits), I took one last set of shots of the Tuhare lakes and, much to my excitement, the Maroon Bells, Snowmass Mountain, and Capitol Peak in the far distance.

Man, the Maroon Bells are some of the coolest mountains I’ve ever laid eyes on, and Snowmass and Capitol are just ridiculous looking. Here’s a zoomed in view of them. The ‘Bells’ are left of center, and Snowmass is right of center with Capitol at right of Snowmass looking like a sore thumb sticking up. Truly – seeing the Elk Range pretty much made my summer. As I approached the very top of Holy Cross Ridge, I saw the first living being since the night before: a marmot guarding the boulders:

Once I reached the top to Holy Cross Ridge, I basked in the insane view. The valley on the other side (west) of Holy Cross and Holy Cross Ridge was really cool – full of lakes and waterfalls. Here’s a 360 view from the top of the 91st highest mountain in Colorado:

The really cool part of being on the Holy Cross Ridge for me was seeing where I had came from and being so close to my final destination. This pano shows the route, starting at the shelter and ending at Holy Cross:

From Holy Cross Ridge, Mount of the Holy Cross was just one hour away, a quick boulder scramble down and then up. I started down, following the crest of the ridge (no trails) and up Holy Cross. I finally saw people… seeing other people motivated me to move even faster, because I thought they were the first people to hit the summit block for the day, and I wanted to beat them :-)~

I did end up beating them, but there were already others on top – oh well. Most people climb Holy Cross via the Halfmoon Pass trailhead, which is totally beyond me because going that way completely robs you of the spectacular view of the Cross Couloir from the Notch Mountain shelter. I hit the summit at 10:30 AM, which means it took me 7 hours from the trailhead. Anyways, I had a nice young lady take a few shots of me on top and then it was off to take some pano shots!Look at all the people!

From the top of Holy Cross, there is a small point jutting to the east. I took a quick walk over there in order to get some photos of the entire route I was on for the day. Here it is! The 2nd photo shows the actual route I took.

And the route outlined in black:

That photo really shows the length of the day and was a rather proud moment for me. It felt great to be able to accomplish that, thinking back to May for my 1st climb this year, Shavano, and how tired I was just after a few miles. Ha-ha – looking back I realize now how much better I am now at using my camera too! Apparently the more you use it, the better… imagine that! After spending some time on top, I made the decision to return back the way I came. Apparently this route down is 1.5 miles further than the standard route but less overall elevation gain (remember, I had to go back over all three of the 13’ers again to get down).

After a beautiful day of hiking back over the 13’ers, I made it to the shelter at about 2 PM. Here’s a self-timer shot of me from there.

I rested and refueled at the shelter and had a short but pleasant conversation with a family that was also from Colorado Springs who were on a day-hike to the shelter. I started back down the trail (it was nice to be back on a trail after 8 hours of no-trail hiking) towards the trailhead.

After reaching the trailhead at 4 PM, I headed to Buena Vista and stopped in at Panchos for a burrito before the long drive back to Colorado Springs.