Torreys Peak

NOTE: This text report is stored locally on CRMTR. If you find this report on the authors website, please let me know and I'll link to it instead...
TRIP REPORT: "A Late Winter Ascent of Torreys Peak via Loveland Pass"
First we present the numbers, then a personal account from each participant.
WHO: Kevin, Brian, Jeff
WHEN: 1 March, 1998
SOME ROUTE STATISTICS:
* 11990' - Loveland Pass TH
* 13117' - unnamed 13er
* 13427' - Grizzly Peak
* 14267' - Torreys
* 8.5mi rt
* +4400' rt: TH to Torreys Summit = 2267', plus 2133' going over intermediate peaks
TIMES:
* 7:00am leave TH
* 10:30am summit Grizzly
* 12:20pm summit Torreys
* 12:40pm leave Torreys
* 5:00pm arrive at TH via same route reversed
(note: Dawson's estimate is 11 hours rt for a summer ascent)
WEATHER:
* temp: 10-15 degrees
* visibility: sunny & clear until 2-3pm, then increasing cloud cover decreasing visibility to ~1/2mi
* wind: sustained 20mph westerly; infrequent 5-10min lulls; one hour lull1-2pm during return ascent of Grizzly; increasing to sustained 25-35 mph, possibly gusting to 50 mph
* wind chill factor severe--may have reached -40F at times
TRAIL CONDITIONS (approximate):
40% dirt/talus
40% wind-blown hard pack
20% soft snow (post holing)
* mostly easy 2nd class
* some 3rd class scrambling up TH side of Grizzly
* trail adjacent to some avalanche-prone slopes & cornices, easily avoided
* somewhat narrow, exposed snow ridge on Torreys side of Grizzly

BRIAN:

The most noteworthy thing was prolonged exposure to very strong winds in 10 degree air. Any exposed flesh risked frostbite.

I didn't eat much because the simple act of removing mitts and getting food from my pack would have caused my hands to go numb. Ditto for taking pictures (plus, the cold was causing cameras to malfunction). Ditto for looking a map (in hindsight, any doubt about the way back to the TH would have been quickly cleared up by simply looking at the topo.)

I didn't drink much because all the water was ice cold (even water in thermo containers). 90% of the time I was reasonably warm, but it was very easy to cross the threshold into uncomfortable cold. Staying active was essential for staying warm. For example, a forced bivy could easily have resulted in death. One should never voluntarily expose oneself to such a narrow margin of safety.

As far as winter 14ers go, this seemed like a reasonable choice. A few might be easier (e.g. Quandary & Bierstadt), but I'd already done winter assents of those. The mileage and vertical feet weren't unusually high. Our pre-trip assessment was that the route was probably wind blown to the point that the snow wouldn't slow us down much, and that the thing most likely to stop us would be the weather. On the whole I think we sized up the situation reasonably well.

KEVIN:

What is it they say about March? In like a lion, out like a lamb...

On the first day of March, 1998, we were treated to a taste of the lion, or more accurately, the lion almost devoured us.

Over the past three years, our triumvirate had climbed together on a somewhat regular basis with modest success (e.g. summitting Rainier, Grand Teton, Orizaba). In a process common to climbing, we learned over time to trust and rely on the judgment and strength of one another. Thus, an attempt of Torreys Peak from Loveland Pass seemed well within our ability.

The day began early, as we were anxious to start the high ridge route along the Continental Divide at first light. The venerable Lou Dawson rates Torreys Peak from Loveland Pass as an advanced climb and cautions his readers about the "time consuming length" of the route. (cite Dawson, p 170.)

At 7am we left our car and the busy sounds of US 6 at the Loveland Pass trailhead. The temperature was probably about 10 degrees, and a gusty wind was blowing from the west. The weather forecast indicated no notable weather disturbances in the area, and the scattered clouds in the sky seemed harmless.

From the trailhead the route quickly gained elevation to the first bump on the ridge at close to 13,000'. The broad ridge then bore south, dropping to a saddle then up again toward the first 13er.

The route followed the divide up and down until we encountered a stiff and sustained 600' foot climb to the summit of Grizzly Peak. Near the top, the winds increased and the air felt uncomfortably cold. Given these conditions, we half expected to summit Grizzly then retreat to the trailhead.

Our break on the summit was brief--just long enough to catch our breath and eat and drink a little. Despite the wind, the weather remained stable, we were making great time, and Torreys beckoned to us from across the saddle. We decided to press on.

The route from that point involved a descent of about 800' to the Grizzly/Torreys saddle, traversing a narrow, exposed ridge on the eastern side of Grizzly Peak. From there we looked down the steep, avalanche-prone south side of Grizzly to the distant valley below.

After a quick descent, we stood in the saddle at 12,600', confronting a steep, rocky, sustained 1700' slog up the wind scoured western ridge of Torreys. Somehow, we managed to concentrate on the task at hand, and just after noon we topped out.

Strangely, the winds on the summit of Torreys were not as intense as they were during other parts of the climb. Not wishing to push our luck, we began our descent at 12:40 pm, only to begin the most grueling part of the climb.

Being properly equipped is an integral part of any serious mountain excursion. Even then, severe conditions may push the limits of equipment. Such was the case with Jeff's and my goggles on this trip. Within the first hour my goggles iced up to the point of being useless. This presented an uncomfortable and dangerous situation.

From Grizzly Peak we still had three more prominent points to surmount. The lull in the wind that we'd enjoyed ascending Grizzly was over, and it began to blow again in earnest. In addition, the cloud cover and blowing snow began to take their toll.

The next three hours were some of the most brutal and exhausting any of us have spent in the mountains. Each uphill section, even if only for a couple of hundred feet, was a slow and deliberate process of battling wind, cold and ourselves. Often, we had to stop and turn our backs to the howling gale. The climb took on the attributes of a race for survival: darkness was approaching; the storm, the wind and the blowing snow were intensifying; and we were starting to fatigue after a long day. Our safety margin was quickly shrinking.

In times like these you are apt to wonder how much you can endure. You wonder if any of this pain and suffering is worth it. You question what brought you out here in the first place, away from the warmth and comfort of your home, your loved ones. And then, through the mental fog, through the blowing snow, the trail looks vaguely familiar--you recognize a land form, a cairn or even a footprint in the snow. These become your source of hope.

On the first day of March, 1998, we were prepared for Colorado's severe mountain weather. We had to be. When we finished our alpine climb of Torreys Peak, however, it was obvious that a winter alpine ascent in Colorado can pose a substantial test for any mountaineer.

In like a lion, out like a lamb...

JEFF:

By now, most of the details of the climb have been engagingly and accurately rendered by my distinguished colleagues. However, there may be room to make several points.

Kevin and Brian alluded to the importance of being properly equipped. This cannot be stressed enough. Mr. Gore of Tex-as, thank you. Even though wind and temperature were in the lethal range during much of this climb, I found that the following clothing kept me reasonably warm:

*one layer light-weight polypro underwear *one layer expedition-weight polypro underwear *one layer fleece *Hooded Gortex shell *Gortex pants (w/ interior gaiters) *poly pro balaclava *Gortex mittens w/ fleece liners *Makalu boots w/ two layers insulated sox *goggles (SMITH brand ski model, which proved inadequate--they eventually iced over.)

The one mistake I made was leaving the bridge of my nose exposed. While it didn't feel particularly uncomfortable at the time, four days later my schnozz looks like someone tickled it with a hot fireplace poker. My keyboard is coated with blood & scab fragments as I type. Probably 2nd degree wind/sun burn, could have been worse. In such conditions, it's important to cover ALL exposed facial skin w/ clothing, or at least a thick layer of Dermatone. A harsh lesson learned.

As for the climb, it was beautiful, grueling, rewarding, challenging, brilliant, dangerous.

There were moments when every aspect of life outside of that very place, that very second, seemed insignificant. Nonexistent. The terrain above 12,000 feet--alternately wind scoured, blasted, snow covered--is a realm so far removed from "civilization" that it seems other-worldly. I became graced with a total awareness of each step, each breath, each beat of my heart, staring across sublime alpine vistas at peaks which I would soon stand atop. This is the euphoria that makes it all worthwhile.

Yet there were moments on the "descent" (which included a significant amount of ascent) when I'd simply had enough. I wanted it to be finished. Leaning against a ski pole, hungry, dehydrated, wind-pummeled, shredded, looking at another two miles, three hours of painful slogging--this is the time when one must delve deep to summon both the mental and physical resolve to continue. You hum songs to yourself, picture inviting faces (or other anatomical features) and fantasize about hot pizza and thick beer.

Lest that sound overly-dramatic, we tend to forget that these close-to-home, "moderate" peaks can be extremely dangerous. A white-out at thirteen-five, four miles in with fading light, and you may as well be in central Antarctica. On this ascent of Torreys, we came uncomfortably close to putting ourselves in such a situation. I was well aware that we had no one but ourselves to rely upon.

Of course, with proper planning, equipment & fitness, these Colorado 14ers can be extremely rewarding--in and of themselves, and as training for the higher, more remote peaks to which all serious mountaineers aspire.

ÿ