Friday, October 19, 2012



Mount Ouray (13,971 ft.)

17 October, 2012: On the way up to Colorado Springs, I took a detour off US 285 to hit Centennial 13er Mt. Ouray. I knew it would be windy, but I didn't know how windy. I know there were gusts of at least 50 mph, and I strongly suspect that some were over 70 mph. Even with double layer gloves, the tips of my fingers got cold, despite the fact that the actual temperature never got down anywhere near freezing.  As a result, I wasn't willing to bare my hands, even briefly, to take any pictures at the higher elevations. I literally couldn't stay upright on numerous occasions. Even worse, I had to crawl on all fours, both up and down, for roughly the top 1,000 feet. This made for very slow going, and a much   longer day than planned.
A few pictures are at

https://picasaweb.google.com/tcogwr/MountOuray

RT: ~6 miles
Vert.: 3,100 ft.
crew: just me

Long life and many peaks!

Saturday, October 13, 2012



Palomas Peak (8,586 ft.)


RT: almost exactly 3.0 miles
Vert.: 550 ft.
Time: 52 min. up, 44 min. down
Participants: cftbq, trishapajean, cimarron

This peak is best known to rock climbers, as its west face features challenging cliff bands. But a walk-up trail also branches off from the climbers' trail and that's what we took. The TH is just a wide spot on NM 165 in between Placitas and the south end of 165, where it merges with NM 536, the road to the summit of Sandia Peak. There is room for five or six cars on the east side of the road at approximately 35.2265° N, 106.4095° W. Coming from the north (from Placitas), go past the Las Huertas picnic/parking area, through some tight turns in the road as it begins to rise more steeply, past the entrance to the Elk Ranch on the right, and finally to a sharp right turn at the end of a short, straight section of the road heading east. There are three concrete barrier sections on the outside of the turn. I've read that one must be careful to park completely off the roadway to avoid being ticketed (or even towed!), and the FS does indeed patrol this area: This is one of the few places where you can park without paying them a fee.
From the parking area, walk uphill on the east side of the road for a few yards to find the place where the trail drops away from the roadway. It's easy to see when you get there, but nearly invisible from a distance.
Once on the trail, there are no real route finding issues. The trail drops very slightly as it winds counter-clockwise around a north-facing basin and finally crosses a shallow drainage. Then it heads basically north as it begins to climb the south ridge of the peak. Partway up, there is a junction, marked by a tower-like rock cairn, where the rock climbers' trail takes off slightly down and to the left, while the hikers' trail goes up and to the right. The whole length of the trail is clear and easy to follow, and surprisingly easy on the feet—virtually no rough volcanic rock, nor much cactus to cope with. We were pleasantly surprised.
In due course, the trail levels out at the south end of the long summit ridge, and plentiful cairns mark the way, staying just to the east of the actual crest, to the high point at the north end. I found the actual high point to be located a bit north and east of the literature coordinates, but it seems obvious enough, visually.
Being so close to Albuquerque, this is a great little mountain, with good views to the east.



Mt. Sherman (14,042 ft.)


These are the things we do,
not because they are easy,
but because they are hard.”
--John F. Kennedy

22 September, 2012: After many years (eleven, to be exact), the day had finally come. Back in 2007, Trisha and I had both decided that it was time, instead of merely continuing to take targets of opportunity in our quest for the fourteeners, to select something easy to hold out for last. This was a deliberate attempt to make it easy for family members and friends who were not avid climbers to join the celebration. We looked at our lists of remaining peaks (which were almost, but not quite identical). I chose Handies Peak—the only really easy peak I had left. She picked Mt. Sherman, which is not only easy, but close to the population centers of Denver and Colorado Springs. (I couldn't finish with Sherman, since Suzanne and I had climbed it many years earlier.)
So, knowing that we might be racing the coming of cold weather, we decided to turn right around after our climb of Handies, and plan on Sherman for the very next weekend.
We met my brother Michael (who, as it turned out, was the lone person other than Suzanne from the “friends and family” category who showed up) at the bottom of the Fourmile Creek Road and motored on up the the trailhead at 12,000 ft. That's one reason this peak is easy: Almost any car can drive the very good dirt road, maintained for the benefit of both homeowners in the area and a working mine high up, all the way to its end. This leaves only 2,100 feet of vertical gain to get to the summit.
I almost couldn't believe it, but the weather held for us. We headed out (along with dozens of other climbers) under sunny skies just before 8 am MDT. Wow, it's been a long time since we had the luxury of starting that late!
Although a gate on the road defines the trailhead, the first part of the trail is still really a road. Indeed, the whole east side of the mountain is laced with a multiplicity of 4WD-type roads, most of which function now as alternative routes for climbers. We inattentively followed a group of other climbers, while we gabbed amongst ourselves, and quickly diverged from what is actually the ideal route by following one of these road segments when we should have turned off on a trail leading to the north! The result of this mistake was that we climbed a steep, rough, and loose stretch of rock directly to the remains of the Hilltop Mine, when an easier, but longer, route exists. But we got there.
Once at the mine, you are at almost 13,000 ft., and close to hitting the crest of Sherman's south ridge, the route to the top. Once we started into the switchbacks just below the ridge, I took off on my own, hoping to get to the summit far enough ahead of the others to go on and climb Gemini Peak (13,951 ft.) and, possibly, Dyer Mtn. (13,855 ft.). I also wanted to be on the summit when Trisha arrived to provide photographic documentation.
In places, the ridge was both steeper, and narrower, than I had remembered it. That's what 19 years, and 40-odd fourteeners in between will do for you. All the same, I got to the top well in advance of my companions. I paused only briefly before continuing on toward Gemini. (Gemini is the highest 13er summit in the Mosquito Range, but it is technically unranked.) I soon convinced myself that I was facing a dilemma, however. I was beginning to slow down, following the exertion of gaining the summit. I didn't know just how far ahead of the others I really was. Fearing that I might not make it back to Sherman before Trisha got there, I reluctantly turned around, giving up on my extra credit peaks for the day, in order to insure that I would be there for Trisha's big moment.
As it turned out, I waited something like half an hour, and still they hadn't showed up. Since I knew that Michael in particular was making a big physical effort for this climb, I became a little concerned. I finally decided that it was incumbent on me to head back down the route to make sure all was well. Fortunately, I only hiked south along the summit ridge for a few minutes before they made it up past the last steep section and came into view. They were moving very slowly, but they were moving. After we exchanged waves, I returned to the summit, camera at the ready.
I would soon learn that while there were no actual mishaps, Trisha described her shepherding of Michael up to the top as “babying.” 'Nuff said. But all was well that ended well, and the three of us set about celebrating, eating lunch, and taking pictures. As planned, I also made a video of Trisha's last few yards, which can be found at:


The stills are at:


Unsurprisingly, the descent was anti-climactic. Trisha sped on ahead to re-join Suzanne as soon as possible, and Michael and I plodded down at the best pace he could manage. ATC, it really wasn't too bad, and we were back at the cars in under two hours. We were all tired (the day had started at 2 am...), but we all felt good. Trisha had finished. She has 54 peak pins and her “flaming boot” pin for the grand slam of fourteeners. It all felt pretty good.

Long life and many peaks!

Wednesday, October 10, 2012



Mt. Taylor (11,301 ft.)


9 October, 2012: We ended up with a day with no firm commitments, so Suzanne (to my surprise, somewhat) suggested that we take the day, just a few before our anniversary, to drive out west and hit Mount Taylor. We had been to the trailhead the previous fall, and it looked like a fairly easy, short hike.
Taylor has a lot of unusual characteristics to recommend it. Ranking only 65th in elevation in New Mexico, it is one of only four peaks in the state with over 4,000 feet of prominence. Thus, it is isolated and visible for great distances. This contributes to its being the southernmost of the Navajos' four “sacred” peaks; their name for it translates as “turquoise mountain.” It is also the high point of Cibola County, and the highest peak in the Zeboletta range, which sits just east of the Continental Divide.
So it was worth the rather long drive to the town of Grants. From Grants, we took NM 547 northeast up Lobo Canyon, for about 12 miles, to FR 193. Five miles east and south on 193 brought us to the clearly marked trailhead. From here, the literature indicates that it is about 3 miles, and almost exactly 2,000 vertical feet to the summit.
The first third of the trail meanders through mixed pine, deciduous, and aspen forest, gradually rising up the (climber's) right side of the Gooseberry Creek drainage. We found it totally dry, and didn't take the short diversion which the map indicates would take us to the actual Gooseberry Spring, for which the trail (also officially known as Trail 77) is named. Slowly pulling up from the drainage bottom, the trail finally emerges from the trees at just about the same point that it finally hits the gently rounded crest of the ridge southeast of the creek. We were not above timberline—none of this trip is—but geography and climate have conspired to render the south slopes of this mountain above about 10,000 feet mostly devoid of trees. As a result, the views begin to open up at this elevation, including a fairly clear view of the summit area.
When we stopped for a food, water, and rest break, however, Suzanne was rather suddenly beset with altitude symptoms. We lingered nearly 20 minutes to see if her discomfort would pass, as she had been doing really well up until that point. She finally said that she still felt weak, however, and decided to start back down, imploring me to make a fast break for the summit. I was reluctant to leave here, but I could clearly see that I could make the summit fairly quickly. I also felt confident that I could probably get back to her even before she made it back to the car. So, after exhorting her as gently but firmly as I could to be careful on the way down, I took off uphill at the best pace I could manage.
After just a couple hundred feet, the steep section of trail we were on reached another ridge crest and leveled out substantially, so I was indeed able to keep motoring toward the top at a respectable pace. In less than 15 minutes, I found myself at the base of the large, prominent set of switchbacks that lead to the actual summit area. We'd seen these switchbacks almost as soon as we emerged from the trees, and can be clearly be seen from closer up in one of the photos I took at about this point.
The wind came up a bit, so, despite the continuing clear sunshine, I left my long sleeves and earmuffs on as I powered my way up the final slopes. Just after the trail goes through a gate in a cattle fence (see photos on this one, too), I rounded one more corner to the right and found myself looking up at the large sign which marks the summit. It had taken me just 52 minutes to climb the last 1,200 feet.
The views from this mountain are impressive, especially to the east and south. On a clearer day—which, unfortunately, this wasn't—I'm sure both Arizona and Colorado could be seen. (Tress blanketing the north side make views in that direction much harder.)
I spent just four minutes on the top, but took twenty-odd pictures, including a full panorama. Then it was time to high-tail it down, as I needed to get back to Suzanne as quickly as possible. I decided to pick up my trekking poles by the middles, and run down. Once I got going, this felt great. I hadn't actually had a really satisfying mountain trail run for quite a while, and I worked into it very nicely. The fact that the trail is really superb most of the way, eliminating most of the danger of slipping and falling.
I had initially hoped to make an out-and-back to hit UN 10607, which sits less than a mile to the east of Taylor, but the need to hurry made foregoing that an easy one to pass on. However, as I know very few people have climbed this gentle peak, compared to the number who have reached Taylor's summit, I have to plan on going back some other day.
When I reached the spot where I had left Suzanne, just 35 minutes off the summit, I found that she had a total lead on me of just about 90 minutes. Figuring that I was right on the cusp of catching her still on the trail, I paused just briefly for some water and a picture or two, then took off with renewed energy.
Surprised that I still hadn't seen a single other hiker on this gorgeous fall day, I slid back down into the trees, continuing to enjoy the great quality of the trail. Sure enough, I came up behind Suzanne just at the top of the final hill, about five minutes' walk from the trailhead. Time down: 1:05.
I'm now looking forward to engineering trips to bag the three remaining 4k prominence peaks.
Pictures are at:


Long life and many peaks!

Sunday, September 23, 2012

The Handies group


Redcloud Peak (14,037 ft.)
Sunshine Peak (14,006 ft.)
Handies Peak (14,053 ft.)


14 September, 2012: Suzanne and I drove up from New Mexico on Friday, the 14th, while Trisha drove down from Greeley. We met at the junction of CO 149 and (Hinsdale) County Rd. 30, just south of Lake City. Trisha brought her camper, and we found a place to park it just above the old townsite if Sherman, where CR4 becomes steeper and rougher, as it heads northwest into the valley between our Saturday target peaks (on the east) and Handies (on the west). We managed to get there while there was still some daylight left, so we had time to set up our camp, cook up a nearly home-made hot dinner, and settle in for a good night's sleep. We set the alarm for 4:30 MDT.

15 September, 2012: In the pre-dawn dark, we made some simple breakfast and Trisha and I prepared our daypacks. Cimarron would hike with us, while Lotto and Suzanne relaxed at camp, perhaps venturing into Lake City for some shopping and lunch.
It was actually after 6 am when the three of us finally climbed into the truck and headed off up the road to the Silver Creek/Grizzly Gulch trailhead. I had thought it was only about two more miles to the TH; we found that it was more like four. We also saw clearly that we could not have gotten the camper to the actual trailhead, as we had originally planned. The road quickly gets not only rough, but steep and narrow in places. At the TH, the road is actually wide and smooth, but in between it's too rough for pulling a trailer.
After taking in the notice on the outhouse door to the effect that there had been a bear encounter (somewhere) in the area (somewhat) recently, we quickly threw on our packs and hit the trail at 6:50 MDT, just before sunrise. The well-worn trail follows Silver Creek (with the creek on climber's right), first northeast, then east, and then southeast as it circles around the north side of Redcloud. We passed the more obscure turn-off the the trail which heads south in between Redcloud and 13er Sundog without seeing it, but we hoped to take that trail down in the afternoon, after climbing Sundog.
An hour or so into the climb, we came out above timberline, and started climbing into the huge basin below Redcloud's northeast ridge. The trail was still totally clear, and we had great views of the gentle (for the San Juans) peaks on the other side of the basin as the sun finally shone over the ridge and onto us.
The trail first heads directly up the ridge toward the false summit. But about ⅓ (?) of the way up it takes a large detour to climber's right, switchbacking out across the north face for a ways. This is definitely a better route than shorter, but steeper and looser, path continuing on the ridge crest. Signs at both ends of this switchback detour show that it is a recent improvement (by CFI) over what was the original route. When the trail comes back to the ridge crest, the false summit is just a short distance away, although it continues to be steep almost to the top.
As with most false summits, the view of the remaining climb to the true summit can seem a bit intimidating, but, in truth, it only involves a climb of just over 100 vertical feet. Accordingly, we blew right past it to get to the top. We got there just after noon MDT. Then, we finally rested and spent nearly half an hour eating, taking pictures, and drinking in the amazing all-around view.
We had the summit to ourselves until just before we were ready to leave. Then Chuck and Dave, two veteran hikers roughly in my age range, strolled up. They told us that they had both climbed Redcloud before (Chuck four times!), but were preparing to make the traverse to Sunshine for the first time. We traded some picture-taking, and departed, expecting to see them again on Sunshine's summit.
The ridge between the two peaks is about a mile and a quarter long, and sports several gently sloped ridge points. The well-worn trail, however, only flirts with the actual ridge crest, staying mostly on the south side. This placement affords nice, ever-morphing views of both “Sundog,” the ranked 13er across the valley, and Sunshine as it is approached. Others have reported ridge run times as low as half an hour for this traverse, but it took us an hour and a quarter.
All along the way, the views continued to be fantastic. As we approached the low point, which is much closer to Sunshine, the views of things not so far away also opened up. We discovered that it was possible to see several points along the approach road (which circles under Sunshine's south and west sides) from where we were. We could see even more of the road from the summit when we reached it just after 2 MDT. And that meant that, contrary to my initial impression, that the summit could be seen from all those points on the road, despite looking up from near the bottom of a valley!
On the final leg of the climb to Sunshine, after the low point, the nice single trail broke down into a wild maze of braided climber's trails. The slope is gently curved all around, so there is no one obvious best way to the top. That, plus the rough nature of the rock, means that it's just operator's choice, and many different operators have made many different choices over the years, none any better or worse than any other. They all lead to the summit, however.
Unlike Redcloud's summit, Sunshine's features a good-sized stone windbreak, plus a pancake-stack cairn roughly three feet high nearby (see photos). We also found an intact register tube with register within, although it was totally filled, and no one had changed it out! I have gotten out of the habit of always carrying a new register as I once did, so the only remedy we could work was to tear a page out of my small notebook and add it to the existing register. Hopefully, someone will change it properly soon. Sitting there, I turned to Trisha and noted that it was hard to believe that this was really my penultimate fourteener.
As expected, Chuck and Dan came out onto the summit not long afterward. We did another round of mutual picture-taking, and then got to discussing descent routes. They were determined to take the shorter route off the northwest face, down through the valley under Sundog, but we had pretty much already made up our minds that we would take the no-guesswork option of retracing our steps. An additional factor in this decision was the unexpected fact that Cimarron was showing signs of fatigue and paw tenderness, and we knew the short route would be rougher, probably trailless in places. It's been so long since we did a peak that we could take her on that even she had gotten somewhat out of climbing shape, too!
So, after another half-hour-plus of summit sitting, we turned around for the long walk down. We stopped numerous times but didn't regret our route choice. We re-summitted Redcloud just after 4 MDT, and descended the basin to timberline in considerably less time than it had taken us to ascend it. In fact, in spite of our relative weariness, we made the return trip in fully two hours less than our outward bound leg, arriving back at the truck about 6:45 MDT. Half an hour later, we bounced back to the campsite, where Suzanne was already well into preparing us a great spaghetti dinner!
After dinner, we updated our 14ers t-shirts, first for the climb of Capitol Peak the month before, and then for our two new peaks. That left me with just one open circle on my shirt, and Trisha with just two on hers. The end was truly in sight. We cleaned up from dinner, set the alarm for 4:30 again (with implicit self-granted permission to snooze an extra fifteen minutes or so, if necessary...) and called it a day.


16 September, 2012: Sure enough, we didn't exactly rocket out of bed at the first alarm. But we were still up, dressed, fed, packed and loaded with our gear in the truck before sunrise. This time, the crew of three was me, Trisha, and Suzanne. We judged Cimarron too worn out to do another climb (a real first), and Suzanne was going to try to make it to the summit of my finisher with me.
We took the truck again, for its clearance. We went past the SC/GG trailhead this time, and tackled the even rougher section of road which curves left around the north side of Handies. After much bouncing and jostling, about a quarter to eight, it brought us to the high (11,XXX ft.) trailhead in American Basin.
Unfortunately, within an hour, Suzanne was showing distinct signs of altitude sickness. We agonized for 20 or 30 minutes about what to do while she rested. Finally, and with real mixed emotions on my part, Trisha and I went on while Suzanne promised to make her way, carefully and slowly, back down to the truck. She just couldn't go on, but she still wanted to make sure that both of us got our summit. As we learned later, she did indeed feel better after descending a bit, so it was the right decision. I just felt bad about having to leave her. Several people coming up the mountain gave us welcome updates on her, all reporting that she seemed fine if tired.
The two of us then hurried along, trying to get up and back down as quickly as we could. The recently improved trail made that fairly easy. We had to remember to turn around every once in a while to take in the gorgeous view of American Basin and Sloan Lake (12,900 ft.), plus the equally amazing long distance views that opened up as we approached the summit.
After passing the lake and finally reaching the southeast ridge, we were able to look over into the basin on the east side of Handies. The awesome realization here was that, due to a sharp turn in the drainage below, this basin is totally invisible from the approach road in the valley below, despite the fact that the road wraps nearly three-fourths of the way around the summit!
On the final approach to the summit, I also found some reason to question the recent down-grading of this route from Class 2 to Class 1, after CFI's recent improvements. That final approach, while clear, still consists of a walk over a hard-packed, rather steep, surface, with lots of loose dist, grit, sand, and pebbles to act as solid lubricant. This could be difficult and, worse, dangerous, for an inexperienced climber expecting an easy hike.
We got to the summit a few minutes after noon MDT, less than two hours after leaving Suzanne. Word had made it up the mountain grapevine that I was approaching for my finish, and we were instant celebrities with the twenty or so climbers already on top. Quite a few of these were people were climbing their very first fourteener, and Trisha and I were sort of instant celebrities.
In a total surprise to me, my darling daughter had brought real champagne, with snap-together plastic wine glasses, to the summit. We shared a toast, and one of the other climbers, an accomplished photographer named Christine Biella, took some great pictures of us. I gave her my email address and she promised to send the photos to me later, which she did indeed do. It was quite a party on the summit, with over 20 people there enjoying the top-notch weather.
We both were feeling more energetic than we had the day before. Apparently, one day climbing (together with the Capitol climb six weeks earlier) was enough to shake off our “winter” out-of-shapeness and start getting us back into good shape. We put this theory to the test by going for the best time possible getting down, because we felt it was only right to get back to Suzanne as quickly as we could. As it turned out, we burned up the trail, and made it from summit to trailhead in 90 minutes—without falling or destroying our knees.
The Redcloud summit video is at:


and the Handies video is at:


and my photos are at:


Long life and many peaks!






Tuesday, August 07, 2012

 
Capitol Peak (14,141 ft.)
“K2” (13,664 ft.)

3 August, 2012: Some climbers consider Capitol Peak to be Colorado's hardest fourteener. (I know I said that about the last one, but it's true of this one too.)
We'd put this one off as long as we could because the exposure on the Knife Edge Ridge really pushes Trisha's limits. But this was our last difficult peak, so that we can both finish the fourteeners with nice, easy walk-ups. So it was time.
Trisha got the time off from work, and very wisely allowed for our spending two nights camped out (one before and one after the climb), so we went. I drove up to Greeley on Wednesday, basically packed and ready to go, and we headed up into the mountains Thursday morning.
We drove through Aspen, through Snowmass, and finally up the Capitol Creek Road to its end on a bench overlooking Capitol Creek at roughly 9,400 ft. a bit after 4 pm MDT. There were half a dozen other vehicles already there. It would have been nice to get there earlier, but one of the built-in difficulties with these last few trips to finish the fourteeners is that they involve long drives and the logistics are getting harder all the time. So we worked with what we were dealt...
The net result was that it was basically sunset (8 pm MDT) before we could reach the area of designated campsites near Capitol Lake. Accordingly, we decided to stop somewhat short of that area, and found a serviceable campsite just off the trail at about 10,800 ft. We made our dinner in the gathering dark, and hit the sack as quickly as we could. Trisha set her cell phone alarm for 4 am MDT, the idea being that we would try to get on the trail by about 5 am.
We got up pretty well, but still needed until about 5:30 before we could actually start our climb. As a result, we only needed to hike by headlamp for about 15 minutes before we broke out of the trees in the growing light. We passed the two turnoffs for the lake camping sites, and arrived at Capitol Lake—11,200 feet and very scenic—before we realized that we had to have missed the trail that leads up to the Mt. Daly/Capitol Pk. saddle.
We backtracked a short distance and glimpsed the trail above us, so we free-lanced our way uphill until we intersected a switchback on the trail. Shortly thereafter, we saw a small family of deer grazing right along the trail. They let us get amazingly close before bolting off. We could also see a party of climbers above us, confirming that we were on the right path.
About 7:30 MDT, we reached the saddle and came into direct sunlight. Trisha's cell phone had service here, so we called Suzanne to let her know that we were making good progress.
But that is where the “good” progress stopped. The standard route involves dropping off the saddle into the boulder-filled basin on the other side (the upper part of the West Snowmass Creek drainage), and passing under the cliff bands which mark the east side of the ridge leading up to Unnamed 13,664, better known as “K2.” There is no trail. There are cairns, but they dot a multiplicity of routes through the rocks. So basically, we slogged on, first slightly down and then increasingly upward, for two and a half hours (!) until we finally got back on the ridge, and approached K2.
Here, we finally encountered some other people. They were descending, having already reached the summit of Capitol and heading back. We took the opportunity to chat with them and pick up what useful information we could.
Near the summit (unranked, but still worth climbing), we finally crossed over onto the west side of the ridge. This was accomplished via a difficult spinning move right on the ridge crest which lead down into a narrow crack, and down to a small level area. From there, a clearly beaten path led steeply up to the summit. I went first, and got a nice picture of Trisha making the final climb.
On the summit, I stumbled on Tony (never did get his last name), a very experienced climber who was watching a group of friends coming back over the Knife Edge. He was quite happy to show us (and demonstrate!) the easiest way down off the summit to the beginning of the Knife Edge. From above, it looked to me only a step or two better than the impossible wall that is K2's south face, but he scampered down it like Spider-man, and we both soon approximated his descent. This 40-foot (or so) downclimb was the beginning of Class 4 work, which would scarcely let up the rest of the way.
Of course, in truth, the traverse of the Knife Edge is technically only Class 3. Its real challenge lies almost wholly in the psychological power of the awesome exposure it presents on both sides. If you can focus and keep your wits about you, it quickly becomes apparent that we've already done much more demanding sections of rock climbing. That's a big “if,” however. It's a long way down. And the rock is solid (everything which could possibly break off has long since done so!), but it's also smooth. Develop even a smidgen of downward momentum, and there's absolutely nothing you could possibly grab to stop yourself.
So, we focused. I went first, scouting section by section. Trisha followed, just a few feet behind, determinedly overcoming some of her deepest fears. We used a mix of three different techniques: 1) straddling the top and scooting along on our butts (sometimes aided by partial purchase for our boots or knees and sometimes not), 2) grabbing the top while planting our feet on tiny ledges or protrusions just below the top on the east side while basically walking sideways, and 3) “walking,” rather awkwardly, on all fours, where the ridge top actually offered more than a couple of inches of flat space. We were across in 15 or 20 minutes.
From there, it's possible to follow the main ridge right up to Capitol's summit, and doing so eliminates any possible problem with route finding. It also maximizes the exposure, occasionally requiring low Class 5 moves, so this was not for us. The easiest route holds everything to Class 4, and veers off the ridge crest to climber's left (east).
You pay two things for this ease. First, you completely lose sight of the summit, adding uncertainty to the route finding. (There are some cairns, but they're often hard to spot.) There's a persistent temptation to break up and to your right too soon, because it keeps looking like that would make things easier, even though the truth is that it would just make things harder. Second, it becomes necessary to cross one major gulley of loose scree and dirt, where slipping and sliding suddenly become serious problems.
Thus, doggedly finding and following the cairns, we spent the better part of an hour making the 600-foot final climb. Just before 2 pm MDT, we finally topped out of a shallow gulley and onto the small summit ridge. We could finally stand and stroll the few dozen yards southwest to the true summit.
The Elk Range was finished. All the hard fourteeners were finished. The relief and euphoria were palpable, and impossible to convey in words. Except, of course, that we still had to get down!
But get down we did. We downclimbed the solid Class 4 rock without a hitch, and made it back across the Knife Edge in just about the same time as on the outbound leg. We skirted the summit of K2 to our left instead of re-climbing it, dropped down into the boulder field, and found a section of faint trail heading back toward the Daly/Capitol saddle. Eleven and a half hours had passed since we had been at that same place on the way up. We were tired to say the least.
We were still more tired over an hour later, when we finally arrived back at camp. We still enjoyed the gorgeous view of the lake basin as the last of the day's direct sunshine fell on us.
Some of the pictures I took are at:


That's 50 out of 54 for Trisha, 51 out of 54 (and 56 out of 59) for me. One trip to the Handies group, and this long quest will finally be completed for me. Then a quick day trip up Mt. Sherman, and Trisha, too, will have the whole thing in the bag. Maybe very soon (if the summer weather holds out). Stay tuned.
Long life and many peaks!

Sunday, March 18, 2012

El Malpais


17 March, 2012: Suzanne and I, with Lotto, our foster care dog, took in the sights on the eastern edge of the lava flow known as El Malpais (the badlands), south of Grants. State highway 117 threads the narrow gap between the huge lava flow and a long ridge to its east.

First, we pulled off on the west side of the road, to the Sandstone Bluff overlook. It towers several hundred feet over the lava. Off to the west, the horizon consists largely of the unimpressive (by Colorado standards) peaks of the Continental Divide. Mount Taylor is visible far to the north.

Next, we pulled out on the east side of the road and made the short (¼-mile) hike to the base of the La Ventana stone arch. It's pretty impressive. The literature I've read note La Ventana as the second-largest rock arch in New Mexico. The largest, Snake Bridge, is somewhat cryptically noted as being “inaccessible.” Apparently, this means that it's on an Indian reservation which bars public access. The view of the arch from below (see pictures) is impressive, but a better one is said to be from the cliff edge to the south, at the northern end of the Narrows Rim Trail.

So, lastly, we went farther south and hiked about the first mile of the Narrows Rim Trail, which winds north along the edge of the ridge. The term “The Narrows” refers to the slim space between the eastern edge of the Malpais lava flow and the cliff face. We didn't make it to the end, and that other view of the arch, but the views out over the lava field were very nice.

Although it was windy, it was an amazingly warm day for winter and a great day to be out.

Photos are at:

https://picasaweb.google.com/tcogwr/ElMalpais


Long life and many peaks!

Monday, December 19, 2011

19 December, 2011: I couldn't let the year come to an end without offering my candidate for the
Biggest Lie (and Liar) of the Year: Back in the summer, Janet Napolitano, the head of the misbegotten and misnamed “Department of Homeland Security” said “We don't do these things just to do them.”

The “things” she was referring to were the latest round of increasingly invasive, intrusive, provocative and humiliating warrantless searches visited upon airline passengers by her department.

This is, most definitely, a lie. They do do these things “just to do them.”

The official line, of course, repeated explicitly by Ms. Napolitano, is that some vague exterior “threat” has virtually forced the hapless public servants at DHS to institute things like X-ray strip searches of airline passengers. The truth is just the opposite. The control freaks in government have been trying one ruse after another ever since (at least) the Nixon administration, to get the Fourth and Fifth Amendments effectively repealed. The excuse has continually changed, from bombers trying to collect on life insurance policies, to “drug dealers,” and, finally, to “terrorists” (very conveniently vague, that last...). But the goal has always been the same: Allow unlimited, warrantless searches of individuals despite the Bill of Rights.

Illegal searches are not carried out to combat “terrorism.” The whole bogey man of “terrorism” was concocted, embellished, and dressed up to provide a cover for the searches. Janet Napolitano, you LIE!

Long life and restoration of the Republic.