Day 3, June 20, 2014
San Luis: The Trail of False Hopes
I must have slept well because it seemed like the moment after I closed my eyes, it was 2:00 am and we were parking and it was time to get up again. We were parked just north of Creede in an ATV staging area. James was preparing the dirt bike for me. In hindsight I regret using the dirt bike on this road. I just don’t know if the dirt bike saved me much time because the road is steep, but not very rough. It probably would have been smarter to get in the pathfinder and get some more rest while James drove.
I put on all of my warm stuff because I was pretty cold and was walking around shivering with my teeth chattering. I said goodbye to Mom and James, and asked them to try to get some sleep. There was no way I would be back in less than 4 hours so I hoped they would get some good sleep.
The road heading up north out of Creede is extremely steep as it goes by an amazing old mining complex. It is also in pretty good shape and is pretty smooth, so I was able to go very fast on the dirt bike. For all the troubles I had with the bike in the first couple of days, it still saved me at least a couple of hours versus being in a 4 wheel drive. It is amazing how fast you can go by people in jeeps and other 4 wheel drive vehicles.
San Luis from West Willow Creek is one of the worst 14ers when it comes to trying to follow the 3000 foot rule. It does not make much sense at all for this mountain. The problem is that once the steep road levels off, it stays relatively flat as you make your way up the road. It means you have to hike a few extra miles to start 3000 feet below the summit. Even the lower trailhead at 11, 100 feet is too high, because San Luis sits up at 14,014 feet. At 11,000 feet there was no place to park, even for the motorcycle. So I had to drive past my starting point to a dirt road that headed off to the left, and park the bike at this point. Then I had to turn around and hike back down the road until I was sure I was at or below 11,000 feet. Then you start the long hike up to the upper trailhead, hike way up to a ridge that joins the Colorado trail, and drop about 500 feet before you start going up again, and of course you have to ascend that 500 feet on the way back. So in the end, in order to satisfy the 3000 foot rule, you have to hike about 4000 feet and add in a few extra miles!
I started hiking at 3:05 am. The road was a little muddy in places, and it was a little tricky crossing West Willow Creek a couple of times, but I managed to keep my feet dry. I passed the upper trailhead, and at first the trail was a little overgrown and not totally obvious, but when I started to wonder if I missed something I found it when it abruptly turns right and crosses a creek. Then I was already facing the first snow drift of the day. This one was a 10 foot headwall, but it was easy to bypass. Fortunately after that the remaining snowfields on the way up to the Colorado Trail were not very steep. The snow was still very hard, as it was just starting to get light.
I joined up with the Colorado trail, and turned east for the long round about trail to San Luis. First you climb a little, then you have to drop about 500 feet. Then the trail contours while ascending up and over a saddle that is downright depressing. This is because as you approach the saddle you feel like you are nearing the summit, but from the saddle you can finally see San Luis and it is so distant that it is very depressing. Meanwhile, the trail crossed snowfield after snowfield after snowfield. A couple of them had formed vertical headwalls of about 10 feet and it was tricking getting up and down them with the snow so hard. However, I was lucky that the snow was so hard, because I could see that some poor soul had been on the trail previously when the snow was warm and had postholed all over the place. Finally I reached the actual southeast ridge of San Luis, and despite being a very good trail, it was very depressing of several killer false summits. The kind where you know that you probably aren’t near the top, but then when you can see past the false summit you are heartbroken and demoralized at the sight of the actual summit way off in the distance! I decided that I didn’t like San Luis anymore!
When I finally reached the summit at 6:23 am, I was grumpy because of all of the false summits. However, it had only taken about 3 hours, so I hadn’t lost much more time. However, as I stood on top enjoying a few seconds to enjoy the view, I was mapping out the rest of the day in my head. I had failed to go fast enough to get to Culebra and the Blanca group today, so all I had left was the Crestones, and I had always assumed that if I only did the Crestones this day that I would get plenty of sleep (my first real sleep since the start) as I would have to wait until 6:00 am (when the gates open) to start on Culebra the next day. I was about 2.5 hours behind, So I would probably be down to the car around 9:00 am, then it would take 3 hours to drive to the Crestones….Then #$%!@! All of a sudden I realized I could be in big trouble! I probably wouldn’t be able to start on the Crestones until about 1:00 pm. I had decided against starting from the closer trailhead because I thought it would take nearly 2 hours longer in hiking. If I drove to South Colony Lakes it would be a longer drive, but then the hiking would be faster. The problem was that I knew that in light in good dry summer conditions the Crestones would take about 13.5 hours (It used to take me about 12 hours from the Upper South Colony Lakes trailhead, but that trailhead is closed now so it adds about 5 miles roundtrip, and I estimated about 1.5 hours for the extra 5 miles). That means the earliest I could finish would be about 2:30 am, and then considering about 2 hours to drive to Culebra would be about 4:30 am, and I had to be there by 6:00 am. I was cutting it close! However, I was going to be in the dark for about one third of the hike, and there was lots of snow and ice on the Crestones, which are some of the more technical peaks in the state. So was it realistic that I could still climb them in 13.5 hours? I was officially in worry mode. In any case, I was certainly not going to get any extra rest tonight!
Upset with myself that I hadn’t seen this coming, I realized I had to try to make up some time. Every minute would count on the way out. So I decided to try to run all the way back. So far my legs were holding out pretty good, and it seemed necessary despite the extra abuse. Remember that when I say “run”, I really mean changing my pace from a 3 mile per hour downhill walk to a 4.5 mile jog. But it feels like running.
I jogged all the way out. I only walked on uphills, and I had to stop to refill my water once. I quickly ascended the annoying 500 foot descent from earlier that morning, and tried a short cut through a ravine that was probably a waste of time. Finally I made it back to the upper trailhead and then jogged out the extra miles thanks to the cursed 3000 foot rule. As I rounded the final corner of the nearly 7 mile run, my ankles were sore and both of my knees were hurting, and I was happily surprised to see James packing up the dirt bike. I had to run past him to get back to the official starting point, and then I checked my time. It was 9:01 am, and I was still 2.5 hours behind schedule. Sometime after destroying myself on the descent by running the whole I had only gained 20 minutes. It had taken 3 hours to go up, and 2:40 to go down. How was that possible? It was very depressing.
I immediately told James of the new dilemma, and how time was of the essence. I got in the pathfinder and James drove us down to the van where Mom and Axel were waiting for us.
Drive to Crestones: James Taking Charge
On the bright side, we did have a long drive ahead of us, and I was happily thinking about 3 hours of sleep, and how great that was going to feel. Before going to bed I tried to send Homie, a fellow 14er record aficionado, a text updating him with my plans, because there was a possibility he was going to meet up with us and help out for a couple of days.
I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly for about an hour because it wasn’t until we were in Alamosa that I woke up. The traffic was surprisingly bad, and it must have been the stop and go traffic that woke me up. Then my mom’s cell phone rang and I heard her talking to James. When she hung up I let her know I was awake and asked her what they were talking about. James had concocted a plan where he would leave my mom and Axel behind to stay at his mom’s cabin near Fort Garland, while he would take just me to South Colony trailhead.
I was not too happy with what I had heard. I understood his reasoning. The two of us with one vehicle would probably be faster, especially if James had to drive like mad to get to Culebra by 6:00 am. However, I didn’t want mom and Axel to leave, and I was annoyed that I would have to get back in the pathfinder. I sleep much better in the van, and my number one priority was trying to sleep for the next two hours on the road. I don’t think my mom was too thrilled about the idea either.
We just decided to go along with the plan, and somewhere on the road to La Veta Pass after Fort Garland we stopped and met James’ mother. She seemed very nice, although I didn’t say much as my job was to get out of the van, and into the pathfinder. Meanwhile James and my mom transferred all the necessary gear into the pathfinder. Soon I said goodbye to Axel and Mom, and we were off. I was still annoyed, and now I was wide awake and uncomfortably situated in the back of the pathfinder. In my mind I was going over the plan. I felt like it was still doable, but it was impossible to know how the conditions on the Crestones would affect my timing.
Then with just a couple of miles to go to our turn off to Pass Creek Road, James had to stop. Traffic was backed up for as far as we could see ahead of us. Road Construction! Oh how I hate untimely road construction! I can’t describe how frustrating it is to run into road construction when you are doing something where every last minute is critical. However, we realized that there was nothing we could do, so we tried to sit back and relax, but on the inside I was completely freaking out. My blood pressure probably neared dangerous levels. After what seemed like an eternity, we saw the pilot car leading the traffic going the other direction. It was an incredibly long line. When we finally got moving in the miles long line, it was really annoying because there was only one little spot where construction people were even working. It just doesn’t seem very efficient to create huge wait lines on both sides. What a ridiculous way to lose 25 minutes when every minute was critical! In any case, soon we came to Pass Creek Road and turned north. It is a pretty smooth road as far as dirt roads go, but I couldn’t sleep because it was so hot and curvy and James and I were talking too much. This was truly my nightmare scenario from a logistics standpoint. The one thing you want to avoid is a long during the day, because then you end up stuck on the mountains in the dark. Ideally you want to stay on schedule and get the long drives done during the night, when it is easier to sleep in the car.
When we finally made it to the paved road and were heading toward Westcliffe, I think I was able to sleep for about 30 minutes before we made the turn to South Colony Lakes Trailhead. Rather than driving all the way to the lower trailhead, we parked within sight of the trailhead but before the road gets very bumpy, and James started prepping the dirt bike while I prepared my pack and put on shoes and socks. I knew there was a chance Homie would be meeting up with me, but didn’t know where he was. Unfortunately, a few minutes before I was ready to go, a few cars passed by on their way up the road. This was bad because if I was stuck behind a bunch of slow moving vehicles it could defeat the purpose of driving the dirt bike up the road.
Finally I was ready, said goodbye to James, and headed up the road at full speed. This was the perfect kind of road for dirt biking, because it is bumpy enough to slow down cars, but perfectly suited for moving fast up on the dirt bike.
Before long I reached a van, which moved over for me to pass, and it was Homie, who told me not to wait for him at the trailhead. I yelled hello as I passed, and zoomed up the road. Luckily, all 3 vehicles ahead of me either stopped and waved me by or moved over for me, so they didn’t slow me down at all. I found out later Homie had seen James and I getting ready and had stopped the 3 cars and asked them to let me go by when they saw me.
I parked at the trailhead at about 1:15 pm and was ready to go immediately, but I was hoping to see Homie so I took a couple of extra minutes to stretch. I noticed that my tracker had turned itself off at some point on the drive from San Luis, so I turned it back on.
I heard a car and saw him driving up, so I gave him a wave and headed up the trail. I knew Homie would be pretty fast and would catch up to me. Earlier in the spring we met up for a hike to talk 14er strategy, and while trying to keep up on that easy hike I gave myself two nasty heel blisters and lost a toenail! I wasn’t moving slow, but it wasn’t long before he caught up to me. He understood my dilemma with making sure I was able to be finished in time to make it to Culebra, and told me that people following my progress on 14ers.com were concerned. There was all kinds of speculation about why my best option would be. Some had suggested doing the Blanca group instead today, because the drive time would have been shorter. One thing confusing was that people online had seem my estimated times, and my times for the Crestones had been estimated from the trailhead on the other side of the mountain. However, from this side I could do the Crestone loop faster, although the drive had taken more time. But the situation was not as dire as some on 14ers.com had thought. I wanted to keep Culebra and the Blanca group together because that would cut down on driving time tomorrow.
Homie also warned me about the conditions on Kit Carson. Apparently someone else had been up there a few days before armed with ice ax and crampons and had turned back because of all the snow and ice on Kit Carson Avenue. I did not have crampons with me so this was concerning news.
We made very good time up to South Colony Lakes, and stopped to purify some water. Then we continued up the trail to Broken Hand Pass. I also forget how unpleasant the hike up or down Broken Hand pass is, but it is a significant part of the day. We hit a snow field fairly early on and ascended most of the way on snow. The slope steepened and soon I was kicking steps in hard snow with my Hoka shoes, which is definitely not what they are designed for! It was pretty steep and in a few spots I was nervous about slipping. Fortunately we made it past the snow and a few class 3 spots before we came out about the snow, and soon after made it to Broken Hand Pass. Then we turned right and began ascending Crestone Needle. The Crestones are very unique mountains in Colorado in that they are pretty technical, but are composed of pretty solid knobby rock. So in good conditions the climbing can be quite fun going from knob to knob, although you have to be careful because occasionally you grab on to a loose knob that falls out.
Crestone Needle is a fairly intimidating climb for a class 3 peak. It is steep and exposed, and it can be easy to miss the marked route that follows one gully and eventually exits the gully and heads up another gully. Unlike other peaks, it feels like rock climbing. I had brought along another pair of shoes for the hike, and near the base of the more technical class 3 climbing I switched to my approach shoes. These shoes have a sticky rubber sole, almost like a climbing shoe, although they are designed to be worn for hiking too, so they are much more comfortable to wear than climbing shoes. I had purchased some that James had recommended the previous year and absolutely loved them for class 3 and 4 scrambling. They make me very confident with the footing, exactly the opposite from the Hoka, which is great for smooth trail but horrible for scrambling.
Fortunately, I climbed Crestone Needle twice the previous summer, albeit in the other direction. Nevertheless, the route finding was not a problem, and Homie and I made good progress up the Needle. He commented that I was dropping him and that he didn’t think he would be able to keep up all day, but he was never more than 5 feet behind me so it didn’t seem like he was hurting.
We reached the summit at 4:07 pm. From the Summit I sent my tracker message, then we were faced with another classic Colorado traverse, the Crestone Needle to Crestone Peak traverse. The scary thing about the traverse is the first knobby downclimb as you descend the Crestone Needle. It is solid class 4 with a Class 5 move or two, and it is heavily exposed. As you descend you are literally staring down at a 2000 foot drop straight down to South Colony Lakes. If you try to avoid the intense exposure and stay more to the left then the difficulty increases. I had never before climbed down this direction without a rope, and usually opted to traverse the other direction so I could climb up this tricky pitch instead of descending it. However, I couldn’t go the other direction today or I would be doing the traverse in darkness which was not a good option.
We both had no problems climbing down. I chose the exposed part and Homie chose the more difficult part to the left. It was a relief to finish the difficult pitch, however now we faced the next most difficult part of the traverse, which can be a little tricky. And there was lots of snow to be wary of on the traverse.
I opted to avoid the more standard approach to the traverse that I call the “fin” which is described in Roach’s book, and instead tried to find the route that I call the “sneak”, which descends down to the left and somehow avoids cliffing out by traversing a lucky sequence of ledges. I felt responsible for Homie because by the rules he was not allowed to help with routefinding. So if I led us into a dangerous spot he was not allowed to offer any options, and could only follow along. This added a lot of pressure. Luckily, I didn’t make any wrong turns and we made great time until we finally came out in the gully below the Black Gendarme. From there the difficulty of the terrain eased dramatically, but the routefinding still kept me on my toes and I was constantly scanning the rocks ahead for the next cairn.
Eventually we reached the red gully, a gully that drops south from near the summit of Crestone Peak, now all we had to do was ascend the gully, and that would bring us within a couple hundred feet of the summit. Surprisingly, there was a lot of snow in the gully. Since it was June 20, it was almost the longest day of the year, and the sun was so far north that the northern facing gullies actually received more snow than the southern facing gullies. Homie told me to go on ahead because he felt like he was holding me back (not true!), and while he stopped (I think to put on crampons and get some water?) I headed up on my own, expecting him to catch up soon. Although we had not seen one other hiker all day, there were a couple sets of footprints heading down the gully from someone else that day. The easiest path up the soft snow was to head directly up those tracks. Soon I was way above Homie and once I reached the saddle I left my pack and decided to head to the summit by myself. The scrambling from the saddle to the summit is quite fun, I headed up and reached the summit at 5:40 pm. Considering the conditions, I did not think a 1:30 time was too bad. From the summit I took a good look at the route over to Kit Carson, and it did look pretty nasty with lots of snow all over my route.
I turned around and met up with Homie at the saddle. He did not want to continue over to Kit Carson, but said he would wait for me on a high plateau called Bear’s Playground for a few hours. From Bear’s Playground I would have to do an out and back hike to Kit Carson and Challenger so it was a good place for him to wait. However, he said not to worry if he was not there because he may have decided to head down, depending on how long I took.
I descended north down the infamous Northwest Couloir, basically the opposite side of the Red Gully that we had ascended. I say infamous because when I was 12 I had taken a nasty fall down the Northwest Couloir while hiking with my step dad. We had descended the Northwest Couloir, and then had attempted to glissade. My step dad (Henry) warned me to be careful because it was icy, and slid all the way to the bottom. When it was my turn I immediately slipped and fell all the way down the icy snow, hundreds of feet to the bottom with my ice ax dangling from a cord on my wrist. I was saved as Henry hurried up the snow and tackled me to slow my momentum as I crashed into the rocks below, and somehow I had managed to escape without a scratch.
This was my first time descending the couloir since that experience, and it was much different than I remember. It turns out my fall must have been more like 400 feet than 800 feet because you have to downclimb a few hundred feet before you get to a snowfield that seems reasonable to glissade. I found the descent to be very treacherous, because it was class 3 and 4 downclimbing intermixed with a mushy layer of about 1 inch of soft snow on top of a solid layer of pure ice. This was not ice as I often call hard snow, but was actually solid ice. I tried a controlled glissade but stopped immediately because I couldn’t penetrate the ice with my ax and realized I would not be able to control my descent. Then I had to climb up on to the wall of the couloir to avoid some more steep ice. It was very treacherous, and any fall here could be fatal.
Finally I made it down to a snowfield that seemed less steep and less icy, and realized this was where I could finally glissade. There were still sneaky sections of ice under the snow, so I had to be careful. I neared the bottom of the snowfield, then exited the couloir to the right, and took a high traverse out that eventually led me to the ridge directly above the Bear’s Playground. I was lucky that Homie had not started to downclimb because I had knocked lots of rocks down the couloir, and if Homie had been above me he might have unknowingly knocked rocks down the couloir at me.
From the Bear’s Playground the standard route contours a long distance across an unpleasant steep, rocky slope to the base of Columbia Point. I have always hated that route, and opted to head straight north up from the eastern edge of Bear’s Playground to the top of Obstruction Peak. This adds a few hundred feet of elevation gain, but it avoids the unpleasant contouring. And an added benefit is that the ridge that forms Obstruction Peak is a very fun, well defined ridge that is my one of my favorite types of hiking. I reached the base of Columbia Point and the shadows were getting long. I very much wanted to back to this point before darkness, but knew that was very unlikely. I realized that I was out of water and that I should have filled up in the Bear’s Playground. Now as I continued to climb up Columbia Point, the snow was pretty hard and there wasn’t any water anywhere, however I did find some icicles under a rock and I plucked one and began to suck on it to moisten the back of my dry throat. As I neared the top of Columbia Point, I veered left along a cairned route. I lost the path in a snowfield, but generally knew where to go, and pretty soon was near the top of the downclimb between Kit Carson and Columbia Point. This is a downclimb that stays at class 3 as long as you stay on the route. However, if you lose the tricky route you can easily end up in more difficult terrain.
I descended deliberately and slowly, and often turned back to look at what the route looked like behind me. I did this because I was going to have to come back this way and I knew that it would likely be dark. I wanted to make sure I would be able to stay on the route in the dark.
Soon I was at the bottom of the downclimb, at the top of the Outward Bound Couloir, and I followed a cairned route up the rocky route to the top of Kit Carson, and I summited at 8:10 pm. My throat was dry, and the snow was so hard now that I couldn’t eat it because it was too hard to break off small pieces. In some places where the rocks were still wet I would crouch down and desperately lick up any moisture I could.
The sun was nearing the horizon, so I didn’t have much light left. I investigated the north side of Kit Carson to see if I could see the class 4 route that I had heard of that would allow me to directly climb to Kit Carson. I saw what looked like a reasonable way to go, however since I couldn’t see the whole route I decided against it. The last thing I wanted to do was get stuck up on Kit Carson in the dark.
I turned around and started heading back the way I had come, then found a gully and headed straight down towards Kit Carson Avenue, the ledge that I could follow around Kit Carson to get access to Challenger Point.
I found some wet rocks in the gully and greedily licked up as much water as I could, and then I saw that I was nearing Kit Carson Avenue. I just had to drop down a little snowfield to get to the ledge. I stepped on the snowfield and took a couple of steps before the crusty top layer gave way and I fell through the snow down to my chest. I just stayed there for a minute and laughed at my predicament.
Ever since I had left Homie, I had been listening to some music on my headphones. From time to time during the last hour I had heard a buzzing but had thought nothing of it. However, now as I looked over sky towards the Sand Dunes on the plains below, I noticed for the first time what was causing the buzzing. A helicopter flew by very close to my position, and continued west between Kit Carson and Crestone Peak.
My immediate thought was that it was a search and rescue helicopter. The first thing I did was check that my satellite tracker was working. It was, so there was no chance the helicopter was looking for me. Homie and I had seen no one on else on the Crestones, so my fear was that something had happened to Homie. I didn’t know if he had brought his SPOT tracker along. I was scared that maybe he had an accident while descending the Northwest Couloir of Crestone Peak. But I knew Homie was a very experienced climber so there was a good chance the helicopter was up there for something else.
Meanwhile, I crawled out of my chest deep snow pit. When snow piles up against rocks or cliffs, the rocks get warm in the sun and can melt out snow that is closest to the rock. In this case there was a deep trench between the rock and the snowfield, but somehow a thin layer of snow had formed a bridge over to the rock. I had broken through this bridge and that was why I had fallen in so far. I climbed out and had no more problems descending to Kit Carson Avenue.
Although snow covered most of the Avenue, there was a thin part of the edge that was snow free, and at first it was easy to move forward. However, soon I came to the big obstacle, a spot where the snow crossed all the way over the ledge. The snow was steep and hard, and might have presented a problem, considering that I had no crampons. However, I was lucky because the snow had melted out like a golf ball, so although it was steep, there were little indentations that I could step in, and I carefully stepped across the steep snowfield using the indentations and my ice ax. After crossing the obstacle, it was smooth sailing across the rest of the ledge. It was only about 300 feet to the summit of Challenger from the end of the Avenue, but first I stopped to look at the class 4 route from Kit Carson. It looked like it ended in a small overhang that might have been difficult to overcome, so it was probably a good idea to avoid it.
The sun was just setting as I summited Challenger at 8:46 pm. That gave me about 30 minutes of light, so I hurried to get as far as possible while I could still see. The difficult part of the Avenue seemed harder this time, maybe because now I was descending more than ascending, and then I followed the ledge all the way down until I reached the gully that separates Kit Carson from Columbia Pt. I finally had to turn on my headlamp, and with the light on I ascended directly up the snow in the gully a couple of hundred feet back to the top of the Outward Bound Couloir. I still had the tricky class 3 climb back up toward Columbia Pt., and thankfully I had taken my time on the way down so I was able to stay on the route. Near the top it seemed easier to veer left, so I did and decided to make a quick stop on top of Columbia Pt., at 13,980 it is one of Colorado’s highest officially ranked 13,000 feet peaks.
As I started dropping down towards Obstruction Peak I was very relieved to see a headlamp off in the distance. It could only have been Homie, because what other idiot would be out here so late? It turned out that the tracks we followed up the red gully to Crestone Peak were made by someone who hurt their leg and needed a rescue. Fortunately they were evacuated safely.
At the saddle between Columbia Pt. and Obstruction Peak, I again chose to stay on the ridge and climb an extra few hundred feet rather than trying to contour around Obstruction Peak on my way back to Bears Playground. This was my third night on the attempt without any real sleep and I was starting to feel it. The first thing that happened was that I started to feel drunk. I just had a hard time maintaining my balance as I was trying to jump from rock to rock.
It seemed like a lot more effort to climb Obstruction Peak in this direction. Then I started having trouble keeping my eyes open, and every time I blinked it seemed like work to force my eyelids open. I was a little disoriented, but fortunately I knew that I just had to follow the ridge all the way until it cliffed out, and then turn right and head down to Bears Playground. It was hard getting down to Bears Playground, and I had to find some gear that I had left behind on the way up next to a big cairn. Then I noticed Homie’s light up ahead, but I wasn’t ready to continue along the route to Humboldt, and I yelled up ahead that I had to go find some water.
Bears Playground is a big grassy plateau, and I had to walk along a short distance before I found some standing water. Unfortunately, after squeezing it through my filter, I tasted it, and it was some of the most terrible tasting water. Still, I drank as much as I could because I was so thirsty. But then I only filled up one water bottle, and hoped I could find a tastier source.
I hiked over to Homie, who was waiting for me. And I began to find my way on the ridge that heads over to Humboldt from Bear’s Playground. Seeing Homie and having someone to talk to helped to give me a burst of energy, and for a little while I felt awake. The ridge is pretty easy but it can be tricky to find the best route, especially in the dark. Soon I started falling asleep again and I was barely keeping my eyes open. I felt like I was just stumbling around and often lost my balance.
We had to descend the ridge to get to the saddle with Humboldt. That is where Homie decided to leave me. He headed back down to the trailhead and offered to give me a ride from the Upper trailhead to the lower trailhead, where James was waiting. James was supposed to hike up my mountain bike to about 11,000 feet so that I could ride all the way down to the lower trailhead.
I drank the rest of my nasty tasting Bear’s Playground water, and left my pack behind and started up the 1300 foot cimb to Humboldt. I was sleepy but was able to follow the trail and cairns up to the summit (summited at 12:24 am). At the summit I was happy because I had made good enough time that making it to Culebra on time seemed possible, although Homie had indicated that Andrea may have somehow gotten permission for me to arrive late, and later I heard that even Cave Dog, the current record holder had tried to call and make sure I could climb Culebra if I was late.
Then I started down, and this is when everything fell apart. My last memory was of hiking down a small little rockband, and then, I must have been asleep on my feet, because I have almost no memory of coming down Humboldt. Instead there is just a disjointed sequence of images and dreams. In one dream I imagined that I was in orienteering school, and was learning how to stay on the trail, but I kept losing it. Another memory is of finding the trail, which shone like moonlit river through the rocks, but then taking two steps and losing it. I also remember several times reaching an edge where down was too steep, so I would turn and walk the other direction until it was too steep. Then I started seeing Calvin and Axel, and so I would yell for them and turn around and look for them until I dimly realized they were not there. There was one thought that I managed to keep on the edge of my consciousness, and that was the necessity to get back to my pack.
When I finally saw my pack, it was like being pulled out of a deep sleep. I hurriedly put it on, and started down the hill. I realized that my little slumber into la-la land had cost me some significant time and I was afraid I would fall behind schedule. But my moment of wakefulness did not last long, and soon I found myself drifting asleep as I tried to jog down the trail. Each switchback by itself seemed to take an eternity. What I was experiencing is something I know of as the “Sleep Demons”. That state you go into when you are desperately fighting off falling asleep, yet at the same time your brain starts going crazy and you begin to hallucinate.
Then I passed the turnoff To South Colony Lakes, and had to deal with some overgrown willows on a very muddy and swampy trail. I found a clear running stream and decided to stop and refill my water, and I didn’t even bother purifying it. Soon I made it back to the dry trail, and the last seemingly neverending mile to the old trailhead at 11,000 feet. Laying next to the old trailhead sign I found my down hill bike waiting where it was supposed to be, and it was a beautiful sight. I was happy to have the chance to get off my feet.
I turned on my bike light and started riding down the road at about 2:25 am. For some reason, in the dark the road seemed like nothing but mud and rocks. I didn’t remember all of this on the way up. On the way up it seemed like a normal dry but rocky dirt road. But now it was mudcrossing after mudcrossing, after large rock gardens. It felt like it did not let up all the way down to the Upper trailhead where Homie was waiting for me. Somehow, even in the dark I had managed to ride just about everything, as I only had to get off the bike for one small climb. All of the dirt biking with the heavy motorcycle made the mountain bike feel like a toy that I could maneuver through anything!
I pulled in to the trailhead at about 2:45 am and I found Homie at his van. I was completely covered in mud. He opened the door to his van, and I was blinded by the immaculately clean, shiny interior of his big van. This thing was total luxury compared to my Eurovan, with a spacious bed, a kitchen, shelves, and more. I was instantly overcome by van envy. I felt very guilty to contaminate the clean interior with my muddy self, but Homie allowed me to climb onto the bed so I could rest while he drove us down to James at the lower Trailhead. Homie drove down the nasty road with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the bike.
I can only describe the ride like the game of “crack the egg” on a trampoline. I was trying to keep my legs elevated but on the bumps I would bounce high into the air and come back down bouncing off the bed.
We made it down to the lower trailhead at about 3:10 pm, and according to our estimates, with about 2 hours and 50 minutes until 6:00 am we would be able to get to Culebra in time! I thanked Homie, who was going to meet me on Blanca the next day, and climbed into the Pathfinder to sleep while James drove to Culebra.