Subject: TR: Let's Play Two (1 of 2) Date: Wed, 2 Sep 1998 18:59:48 GMT From: Tom Stybr Organization: I speak for noone else Newsgroups: rec.backcountry
East Slope Grade II, Class 2 6 miles; 3,400 ft. elevation gain August 5, 1998
What was I thinking? I'll tell you - I was missing my girls. There was another issue; I couldn't stand the smell of myself. The copious monsoonal rain hadn't been giving me much of a chance to dry out clothing and such, especially the last two days. The cozy cavern which is the bed of my truck was, is spite of my best efforts, well, to put it mildly, rank. The consequences of five days on a high carbohydrate diet weren't helping any either. All this sensory overload prompted me to consider cutting the trip a day short but I wasn't willing to give up a shot at my last scheduled climb, Mount Columbia. I would be going for two today. I'd done traverses before but never separate climbs from separate trailheads in a single day.
I didn't really consider it doable (for me) until I woke quite early while parked at the radio towers on Mt. Princeton. After a bit of tossing I decided I was awake and figured I might as well get started. After a drenching rain the previous evening, drizzle was a nearly constant companion through the night and the moonless, overcast sky produced a darkness so deep that I couldn't see the opposite side of the road. I assembled and fed myself, still marveling at the strength of my appetite throughout this tour de rockies, and was crunching up the sodden gravel road by headlamp at 0451.
The lights of Buena Vista were poking up through the low clouds. Just a hint of color, deep violet, was seeping into the eastern sky. The sky above was clearing and stars began to show themselves a few at a time. Hiking jeep roads of this type - wide, smooth and gentle - is about as exciting as rubbing sleep from one's eyes, which in fact I was still doing; double my pleasure! I was trying to make good time to be in a good position to watch the sun rise. After 45 minutes or so, I was able to switch off the circle of light and hike the silent gloom unaided.
The road punches out of the trees just before it begins to swing left onto the southeast ridge and I searched for the foot-trail that leads steeply up to the east ridge. There are several choices, each with a cairn, but the farther I went along the road the less steep and eroded the initial section of trail was. A large cairn several feet tall indicated what was meant to be the proper trail. Once twenty or so feet above road level the trail levels off and begins to traverse across to the east slope. As I reached the level section, I sensed movement below me and turned in time to see a large coyote entering the road from the trees above the road. It didn't seem to notice me.
The trail eventually enters a persistent boulder field and while mostly easily followed, one had to look sharp for cairns in a few spots to keep from ascending too quickly or not quickly enough. The sun was just now beginning to show itself and I turned to greet it. Several cloud bands impeded its rise and as it passed behind each one, I snapped a photo. The clouds below and around me rose and fell in a grand orchestration. Over the gentle slopes reaching toward the Arkansas River lay a white, gray and purple blanket of clouds. Wind was negligible and I stopped for a snack on a made-to-order rock bench while the new-found rays warded off any chill. I hadn't seen anybody to this point nor had I expected to.
I followed cairns as best I could but I found myself off route a time or two and eventually missed what should have been my route to the south ridge. I continued traversing the east slope ascending more directly where appropriate until finally reaching the crest and finding a stiff westerly breeze there waiting for me. The sky above was clear blue but clouds still lingered persistently around and below me. The contrast between a sunlit Mt. Antero and the cotton white clouds draped along the folds of Chalk Creek drainage was stunning. Soon I found my attention grasped by the ridge as, at roughly 13,500 feet, the rocks became coated with half an inch of sleet, probably from last evening's rain storm.
The going was very slick and I coaxed a way through reaching the top at 0800. The view east was obscured by the now rising clouds while to the west the spine of the Continental Divide was easy to follow left to right. Mists slowly gathered around me and I made to descend after only a minute or two. The sleet made for tedious and treacherous footing. Leaving the sleet zone, I encountered today's second summiteer. I learned he had parked at the radio towers shortly after I left. I followed the ridgeline farther than I had on ascent but I started my descent to the trail below too soon following a strong trail that fizzled out after about forty feet. I joined broken trail segments together and eventually met the traversing east slopes trail. A few seconds later I arrived at the obvious ascent trail to the ridge and noticed two climbers just about to crest.
I boulder hopped a retreat, the trail much more obvious than earlier, passing a young woman and then a father and 12ish-year-old daughter pair before being deposited on the jeep trail again. Here I decided my time so far and a quick descent to the towers would give me a chance for a jaunt to the second peak and I picked up speed. Rounding a bend I encountered a trio looking for the trail to the ridge and I let them know they were getting close but to wait until the road bends left before heading right. I absorbed the stable gravel road and made it to the truck at 0950. The race was on. I exchanged boots for shoes then set off down the rutted and moguled jeep road which is amazingly free of rocks. A quick stop in Buena Vista to phone in my plans then it was off to Frenchman Creek trailhead.
To be continued
-- Thanx for your interest. Tom To use Reply-To E-mail address remove "ZAP".