Having completed 42 state highpoints in total by the end of
the last year, I was well on my way to finishing all 50. The problem is that the remaining 8 are
mostly difficult and nowhere near where I live.
As such, they require a bit of planning and a good weather window to even
attempt them. So I dutifully sat out the
winter and waited for my chance in June to set out on a rather ambitious road
trip. The goal was to drive out to
Seattle and back from Virginia and knock out as many of the states that I had
left in the lower 48 as I could. First
stop: Colorado.
I left my house in Virginia on a Friday afternoon and
arrived late Sunday afternoon in Leadville, Colorado. After more than two days of driving, I was
finally within striking distance of my first peak. The weather was less than cooperative,
though. Indeed, upon my arrival, all I
could see were dark clouds blotting out the sky with shades of gray filling in
the gaps. The clouds were fast moving,
so I would occasionally get a glimpse of the Sawatch mountain range lying just
beyond. Occasionally, I would also get
a glimpse of lightning – very discouraging!
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| Leadville, Colorado |
I proceeded out of Leadville, undeterred, and made my way
down to Twin Lakes and over to Mt. Elbert. Along the way there was actually a pullout
advertising an unobstructed view of the mountain. I could see absolutely nothing, save for dark
clouds. Farther down, I turned off the
road away from the glacial lakes and made my way uphill. A short while later I arrived in the parking
lot for the South Elbert Trailhead. It
was pouring down rain at this point. This
was the least promising start yet of any highpoint I have done.
The rain was hard enough that I did not even attempt to get
of the car. I just waited and waited
some more. Amazingly, after about 10
minutes, the rain just stopped. I
decided to jump out and assess the conditions.
I was taken aback. Before my
eyes, there was a double rainbow enveloping the trailhead sign. Wow!
Surely this is an indication of a change for the better. The clouds started to pass, too. The climb was on!
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| Double Rainbow -- Wow! |
I started to gather together my gear for the climb. The latest report that I saw online was from
the weekend before, and it mentioned frozen, neve snow and stressing the need
for crampons. Snowshoes would not be
needed since the snow was melted out below tree line. I only had about 2 hours of daylight left at
this point, being Sunday evening now at this point. So, I decided to pack up my tent, sleeping
bag, sleeping pads, crampons, ice axe, parka, goggles, balaclava, and single
mountaineering boots. In all, I packed
pretty much a light mountaineering kit.
The boots were new, so I thought I would check them out on a real climb
having only lightly worn them in the weeks before on some hikes. I definitely was prepared for much worse
conditions than I would actually come to encounter. Oh well, give the leg and back muscles a
workout, I guess.
The plan was to hike until sunset, set up camp, and get an
alpine start for the summit first thing in the morning. If all went well, I could be off the mountain
by lunchtime. In the time that I spent
packing my backpack, the weather had changed dramatically! I now had beautiful views before me. How is that possible?
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| Less Than 15 Minutes Later! |
I descended the steps from the parking lot onto the single-track,
hiking trail. In a quarter of a mile,
the trail joined up with the Colorado Trail and the Continental Divide
Trail. Just beyond, I was out of the
meadow and surrounded by aspens.
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| Quintessential Colorado Hiking |
The
trail was rather gentle going making only slight gains in elevation. By contrast, I came upon a river crossing
that was simply gushing. Thank goodness
the crossing was aided by a stout bridge, as the passing storm definitely
raised the water level. Beyond the
crossing there were some easy switchbacks allowing for some modest elevation
gain and some meandering.
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| Aside from the Water, Fairly Easy Going |
After 3 miles of hiking, I finally came across the upper
trailhead. Now ideally, I would have
just parked here, but that really was not an option, at least not on this
outing. The road from the lower
trailhead to the upper trailhead is billed as a 4wd drive road with a tricky
section along the way. Supposedly people
are able to drive nearly all the way up the road and are able to park about a
100 yards shy of the upper trailhead.
The recent storm though made the route much worse though. In fact, I would find out later that there
was actually a flooded section on the road with fast moving water effectively
eliminating any possibility of using the upper portion of the road.
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| Upper Trailhead |
I reviewed all of the signage at the upper trailhead, and
made my way farther on. I knew I did not
have much daylight left at this point, so I kept my eye out for good
campsites. The elevation gain was more
noticeable now. After a little while, I
reached 11,000 feet, and I found a fairly nice spot to set up camp for the
night. I pitched my tent and staked it
out, and kept my meager amount of food a good distance away from the tent for
good measure. I was not certain if I was
in bear country or not, but it did not hurt to take the precaution. I was somewhat tired, not from the
backpacking mind you, but rather from all of the driving that day having left
Kansas City that very morning. I was
quick to sleep.
I woke up in the morning to a lazy start. I was not too much in a hurry since I already
had a head start on the climb. I
eventually threw on my backpack and set out.
Heading up hill for a little bit, I soon found myself above tree
line. The morning was bluebird, so I
could take in the full view of Mt. Elbert in all of its snow-capped glory. It was pretty!
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| Mt. Elbert is the Peak on the Right |
I gingerly followed the trail, taking in the cold, crisp
air. What a beautiful morning for a
hike! The trail soon gave way to firm,
neve snow. This was mostly good news, at
least for the ascent. Being early in the
morning, the temperature was still cold.
So, with each footstep, I could walk on top of the snow. Occasionally though one of my feet would
plunge down a couple of feet. If it were
any warmer, it would have been a sloppy, postholing mess. It was all very manageable with boots, so I
kept my crampons stowed.
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| Beginning of the Snow |
Working my way through the snow, I came to a series of
snowfields. They were lower angled, but
they still had to be dealt with step-by-step.
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| Snowfield with False Summit |
I found a rhythm and slowly made my way up each one in turn passing a
couple of false summits. I was never
faked out though as I knew there was a good 3,400 feet of elevation gain ahead
of me.
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| Another Snowfield with Another False Summit |
Finally though, I saw a sign
before the last hillock, and I knew I was in sight of the true summit.
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| In Sight Now! |
I made my way up to the low-lying rock wall
and just farther on to a small patch of snow that was higher than anything else
around. I made it! Highpoint #43!
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| At the Top of Colorado! |
Four other people joined me at the summit. There was a party of three from Minnesota,
fellow lowlanders, out similarly on a highpointing adventure. The fourth person was a German man who,
impressively enough, was in his seventies.
Apparently he makes a special trip every year just to climb this
mountain and had climbed it more than 70 times total in his life -- wow!
I took some time to take in the surrounding views. There were snow-capped peaks everywhere! Apparently there was a lot of late spring
snow in the region, as virtually nothing had melted out at the higher
elevations.
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| View from the Top! |
Colorado has 53 mountains over 14,000 feet. I, of course, was standing on top of the
highest of those 53 mountains at 14,440 feet.
The views were so clear, I probably could see most, if not all, of the
other 52 mountain tops in the distance from where I stood. The close concentration of high peaks was
really striking. Colorado is just geologically
made for mountain climbing.
I savored the views for a bit as this was definitely one of
the more scenic highpoints I had visited.
I searched in vain for a USGS marker, but I did not see anything, and
the hard packed snow was not easy to kick.
I did catch sight of a marmot though who went undaunted by the high
altitude. Hunger knows no height
limitations, I guess.
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| Marmot Taking in the View |
Having tarried a bit, I decided to make my way down. The snow was a little bit softer now, so I
opted to descend in my boots alone. This
means of course that all of the extra gear that I had brought along such as my
ice axe and crampons were entirely unneeded.
Oh, well. I managed to descend
fairly quickly making good use of the plunge step. I kept the Twin Lakes in the distance as a
visual frame of reference. I easily
descended more than a 1000 feet in a matter of minutes. Then I realized that I was not on any
particular trail. Yikes! Indeed, I failed to descend to the climber’s
left as I was descending down which meant that I had a considerable traverse
ahead of me if I wanted to regain the trail off in the far distance. Worse, the traverse was going to cross some
snowfields of a steeper angle than I had climbed that morning. Suitable punishment for not paying attention
in the mountains! Fortunately, the route
was negotiable, but I really should have been more careful as, at the very
least, I would have descended the entire route faster.
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| Twin Lakes Coming into View on the Way Down |
I eventually made my way over back onto the trail, which I
dutifully followed to tree line. From
there, the way down was visually evident.
I made my way back to my tent and took a break. I had some food and water, broke down the
tent, and packed up all of my gear. I
set out once more heading downward, and now I passed dozens of people heading
up. Good thing I missed the rush!
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| Parting View of Mt. Elbert |