Day 4, June 21, 2014
Culebra: The race to the trailhead.
When I awoke James was driving very fast down a remote country road. He was lost. I was surprised because the directions as described in Roach’s book are pretty easy to follow. However he was using a GPS and it had led him astray. I didn’t know the exact time, but inside I was cursing because I had worked so hard the day before so we could make it to Culebra on time, and now that was in jeopardy because of a simple, unnecessary navigational mistake.
After several u-turns and lots of speeding where I nearly feared for my life, James retraced his steps and got back on track. We arrived at the gate around 5:30 am, with much more time to spare than I had counted on. There there was a long line of cars waiting for the gate to open. I hoped they didn’t mind as James drove to the front of the line. I got out and said hello to Andrea, who had been waiting for us after climbing Culebra the day before with Kim, Will, and Calvin. Soon the ranch manager arrived, and after talking to us for a few minutes he graciously opened the gate and allowed me to go up the road without having to go through the step of stopping at the ranch house. I gratefully thanked him and said goodbye to everyone and sped up the road. It was pure joy to cruise up the relatively smooth, steep road until my GPS read 11,000 feet. I parked the dirt bike and began the long walk along the road to the upper trailhead at 6:04 am. The first cars from the others hikers began arriving at the upper trailhead just as I arrived. I headed onto the grassy slopes for the enjoyable hike up towards Culebra. I find grassy slopes to be much more pleasant to hike on than scree and rocks, and I was a good mood as I listened to piano music on the way up the hill.
Culebra has a couple of nasty false summits, but I was ready for them and was not demoralized at all as I climbed past one and then another. It was a beautiful morning and I was feeling like a new person after fighting the sleep demons on Humboldt.
I reached the summit at 8:01 am, sent my satellite tracker message, and immediately turned around. After dropping several hundred feet I started seeing the hikers coming up Culebra. It was day 4 and I had seen almost nobody else up in the mountains so far. Most of the people I passed knew I was out to set the record, and shouted encouragement to me. It is amazing how a little bit of encouragement from complete strangers can lift your spirits. For the first time I became emotional and tears nearly came to my eyes as people encouraged me, and I was able to jog down the rock fields with a new fire to succeed in my heart.
As luck would have it, I unintentionally veered too far rght on the way down, and ended up at the very top of some snowfields that saved me several hundred feet of descending. They weren’t very sleep and I was able to lift up my legs and slide down at a very comfortable speed.
Soon I reached the road and I slowly jogged all the way back down to the motorcycle. I was annoyed because now my tracker indicated that I was about 20 feet higher than where I wanted to be to satisfy the 3000 foot rule, about a 50 foot swing from what it was reading in the morning. So rather than hopping on the motorcycle I decided to hike down the hill for a ways until the altitude was reading what I wanted, and I marked my finish time as 9:26 am, then I went back up to the motorcycle to begin the ride back to the gate.
In the warmth of the morning light, I descended the steep road into the trees. The air was like a thick fog of mosquitos and other flying insects. It would truly be an unpleasant place to take a nap. It was the largest cloud of bugs I had ever seen, and that includes a long adventure race on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I continued down the road and saw a couple of bears running in the distance, and then stopped at the ranch house. I signed the book, and on the way out was greeted by one of the residents who wished me well on the adventure. When I made it out to the gate by 10:00 am, Andrea was holding the gate open, and I sped through and parked by the pathfinder. Someone had made us fresh cinnamon rolls and I sat down and enjoyed a plate of them. Real food had not tasted very good lately, but those cinnamon rolls were delicious and warm and melted in my mouth.
Andrea worked on my feet, while James packed up the dirt bike. It was now hot outside, and the back of the pathfinder was not very pleasant. I climbed in and we set off for the infamous Lake Como road. I was terrified about what was to come.
Little Bear, Blanca, Ellingwood, and Lindsay: The road of Doom!
The truth is that I had lost all confidence in my dirt biking abilities on tough, rocky terrain over the last several days. Still, I had saved a lot of travel time by using the dirt bike and despite all my crashes had come out of it in one piece.
But now we were heading to the road known as the toughest road in Colorado. I still had confidence that I could make it. After all, if a car can make it, so can a dirt bike! Or so I thought…
It was extremely hot when we arrived at 10:45 am at the Lake Como trailhead. I put on all of my motorcycle gear for protective purposes, drank as much as I could, put on my pack and started up the road. James would be driving up in his 4Runner to pick up the dirt bike.
I left at 11:00 am, and the first part of the road was basically a sand pit. I was fishtailing all around just trying to stay upright. Then the terrain changed to small fist sized rocks. This short section was no problem, unfortunately it didn’t last long and soon the road was composed entirely of mid-sized boulders, probably averaging the size of a soccer ball. The problem I was having was that there was no line that I could follow through the rocks. The only way to go was just to give the motorcycle gas and hang on, trying to avoid the biggest obstacles. It was extremely hard work. Some hikers were in the road and didn’t move over enough so I ran off the road just in front of them. Restarting was difficult because you need speed to get over the boulders. What was crazy was the consistent difficulty of the road. There weren’t spots where I could catch my breath. I ended up staying on the bike, but running off the road and needing to stop and restart several times. I was dripping sweat, my clothes were soaking and sweat was pouring down my neck. Then I reached the first “real” obstacle on the road for SUV’s. It is a steep section with large boulders that leads up to a switchback. I thought if I could get to the switchback the difficulty would ease. I tried my hardest, but crash once, twice, then three times. Each time the bike fell I was OK, but gas would come pouring out and I would immediately shut the bike off, and then restart it. About halfway up the hill to the switchback, after I had wrestled the bike upright again after my fourth or fifth crash, I had to stop for a break. I was completely soaked, and breathing harder than I had at any time in the record attempt so far. I heard a car driving up behind me. How embarrassing! To be passed by a car while on the dirt bike! However, It was none other than James, Calvin, Will, and Andrea! I parked the bike, and thanked goodness that James had been coming up behind me. They made room for me in the car and I hopped in, first posing for a loser shot of me with my helmet on. It was 11:20 am, and the last 20 minutes had been some of the most intense of my life.
So, to those who advised me against dirt biking up Lake Como road…You were right, and are all invited on my official 14er advisory board!
James and his 4Runner were amazing going up the Lake Como road. James never even slowed down to look at the hard spots (although the road is mostly all hard spots), he just kept up steady momentum and the car performed admirably. In several places people with Razr’s or nice vehicles hurried to get out of our way as James motored up the road. We were all blown away, the road seemed much worse this year than any of us ever remembered. I never would have made it up. The difficulty never eased and I would have had to walk if James hadn’t rescued me.
Finally we arrived at Jaws 1 right at about 12:00 pm, the first truly insane obstacle on the road. Most stock vehicles have to stop at this point, and it is also close to 3000 feet below Little Bear, so it is near where we would have to stop anyway. James had arranged for a couple of his friends to meet up with me, two fellow 14ers.com members who had been planning on hiking in the area anyway. Waiting for me though had cost them their entire morning, so I felt a little bad about that, but was excited to have some company. It makes a huge mental difference to be able to hike with others. Ryan (Monster5 on 14ers.com) and Steve (Marmot72) were ready to go.
We said goodbye to everyone in the vehicle, I wished James good luck in riding out on the motorcycle, and headed up the rocky trail. It was still very hot. Ryan and Steve both carried extra weight so that I wouldn’t have to carry my pack until we reached the 3000 foot line. We moved uphill at a solid hiking pace, and before long passed Lake Como. I decided to skip the standard route up Little Bear. It isn’t my favorite route because I figured there would be a bunch of ice in the dangerous hourglass couloir, and I didn’t want to be a target for someone knocking rocks down on us from above. I also didn’t want to be the one knocking rocks down on to people below.
Instead I chose the Northwest Face. Ironically, this is the scene of one of my worst ever experiences on a 14er. This is one of the few routes where Roach has drawn a line on an actual picture of the mountain, to help with routefinding. Back in 1999, despite my own instinct that the line he chose was a pretty poor choice, I followed it and ended up clinging for my life on a slightly overhung wall with one hand holding onto a muddy clump of moss. However, in 2013 I came up and found a much better way up.
For anyone interested, and this is how to get past the first steep headwall in the northwest face, there is a watermark that resembles a black hand. You don’t want to be anywhere near this watermark. Instead, you want to come up just to the left of the watermark/shallow couloir that is about 100 yards right of the black hand. From here you do an ascending traverse to the left on ledges that will eventually take you above the black hand. The difficulty on this route does not exceed class 3 (of course up above near the ridge there is still some class 4).
We advanced up the basin to some shallow lakes. Since we could potentially not see any water again, we opted to drink our fill, and fill up our water bottles. I also switched to my approach shoes, as the rest of the day was going to be full of scrambling, and the hokas would not be a good choice to continue with.
From the lakes we started ascending steep talus slopes for several hundred feet to reach the base of the rocky face. We took the class 3 route I mentioned above to avoid the first headwall, and climbed quickly up the next section of the route, which is a pleasant class 3 climb up various ledges. I was very impressed with Ryan and Steve. I could tell that Ryan was having no trouble at all and could have easily passed me and left me in the dust.
About two thirds of the way up the face steepens, and it becomes much more of a rock climb. We zigzagged up the path of least resistance aiming just right of a knob on the ridge above. The last part of the climb is very steep and exposed and is where you run into the crux of the climb. We reached the ridge, part of the famously exposed Little Bear Blanca traverse. The ridge is one of the most spectacular places I have ever been on a Colorado 14er. It is amazing how the exposure continues and goes on and on, on both sides of the peak. From where we gained the ridge we had to turn right and head up to Little Bear, then back track and follow the ridge for about a mile to Blanca.
Most 14er record attempters avoid the Little Bear Blanca ridge. For a strong runner it probably makes sense to avoid it. For someone slower on the trail but good at scrambling it can make sense to take the traverse, especially in good weather and if you don’t mind the exposure.
Ryan and I left our packs and headed up to Little Bear, with Steve a little ways behind. The steep exposed ridge was very fun. Perhaps this is an additional benefit of the traverse, the huge rush of adrenaline. We quickly attained the summit and turned around immediately at 2:24 pm. We noticed that Steve still had his pack on, and was moving a little slower on the ridge. I reluctantly decided to just go on ahead, and when Ryan and I reached our packs again, I said goodbye and headed on my way. I was feeling good and wanted to set a fast time across the ridge. So I took every shortcut possible. Steve and Ryan decided to follow the ridge for the entire time, and it is amazing how quickly they moved. However, by skipping some of the ridgeline by traversing down to the left or right I was able to move quicker. The second half of the ridge is less exposed and had one long section where I traversed down some talus and then reascended the ridge via a gulley. During the climb out of this gully I started to feel a little fatigued, and my pace slowed.
Finally I neared the end of the ridge, my time was about an hour and a half, that is a decent time for the traverse, although I had been hoping to pull it off quicker. I wondered if Homie was up on top of Blanca waiting for me, and I yelled up to two people I saw on the summit. I must have been too far away because they didn’t hear me. I was feeling very fatigued, and I realized it wasn’t necessary to go up to the summit of Blanca, and instead traversed the north side. It wasn’t necessary to go up yet because I would be coming back over Blanca on my way to Lindsey.
The traverse to Ellingwood always looks harder than it actually is, and was surprisingly enjoyable. It only took about 45 minutes to get to the top of Ellingwood, which I summited at about 4:40 pm. I opened up my pack to get some of my sustained energy. I turned around and on the way down I stopped at a trickle of water melting from some ice and slurped up water. I was getting in the habit of eating lots of snow and ice in order to keep my throat from getting too dry. I had developed an annoying cough, probably because I had been sick before the start, and somehow it had moved into my lungs because of the exertion of the past few days. I passed Ryan and Steve at the low point on the connecting ridge with Blanca, and said goodbye, as they were continuing north to climb some 13ers after climbing Ellingwood.
Staying on the ridgeline going up Blanca was enjoyable, and I made it to the summit at about 5:20 pm. I met a guy coming down who was hiking with his daughter, and all of a sudden I realized that I didn’t see my headlamp in my pack. Could my crew have forgotten to put that in the pack? Holy Crap! That could be a disaster. I felt around and didn’t feel it back there, but didn’t feel like wasting daylight by hunting for it right now. After all, it was either there or it wasn’t.
I didn’t see Homie on Blanca, and so alone I began to descend the Gash Ridge of Blanca. I had only scouted out the Gash Ridge the year before, and it was fairly technical for someone like myself who is not a great rock climber. In the past I had always used the Winchell Lakes traverse which generally took me about 5 hours. However, this year I was not compromising on my routes! I was excited about this day because looking back I knew I wouldn’t have any regrets, I was trying to eke out every possible hour to give myself a chance to crack the 10 day barrier!
As I started descending the Gash Ridge, I noticed a stiff wind coming in from the north. It looked look a pretty big storm heading straight at me. It was already nearing Ellingwood. Yikes! As luck would have it I was looking at my first storm of the adventure and it happened to be bearing down on me as I was nearing the 5.3 crux of the day…actually the technical crux of the entire 14er attempt (assuming of course that I didn’t screw up massively somewhere).
Sure enough, just as I neared the 5.3 downclimb, a steep slab with a small crack running through it, it started hailing and raining. Fortunately there was no lightning to scare me, but I was pretty sad to have to downclimb this part while it was wet. I took it easy, thanking providence for my approach shoes, which managed to give me a firm grip despite the wetness.
In my mind I had only considered the crux. I was surprising at how difficult the rest of the climb was all the way down to the Gash, the large namesake notch in the ridge. I stepped deliberately and carefully, fully aware that one misstep could lead to my doom.
After crossing the gash, the rain stopped, and the difficulty eased up. I was mentally drained so 1 stopped for a short 2 minute break to try to relax. I needed to know for sure if I had my headlamp or not, and dug way down and found it near the bottom of the pack. Good Job support crew!
Then I continued down the ridge. The last part of the ridge down to the lowpoint in the Lindsey-Blanca connecting ridge is another crux. Nearing the top of this difficult part, I finally saw Homie. He was waiting for me up on the ridge towards Lindsey. I waved and headed down. I think Homie enjoyed watching me navigate the descent. It was like navigating a maze. I would clear a section, then look down, left, and right, guessing which was the best route, and going with it. A couple of times I had to come back up. However, it was fun, like solving a puzzle.
It was just after 7:00 pm at the lowpoint, and that gave me two hours to get to Lindsey. I navigated around some crumbling towers, and then climbed up and met Homie where the crappy rocks turned into a nice grassy slope. My feet were a little sore so I decided to change back into the luxurious feeling Hokas.
I got a big kick out of Homie describing to me some of the discussions that were going on the 14ers.com website. His description of the commentary about my missing Blanca on the way to Ellingwood and the descent down Gash Ridge had me laughing. In good spirits we continued towards Lindsey. We ran into a couple of short snowfields on the way. I didn’t have my ax, but why walk when you can slide? I invented a new technique in the relatively soft snow that I would call the elbox ax, using my elbow to control my descent. Fortunately I did not bang the elbow on any rocks! Soon we had made our way around “Huerfanito” peak and began the ascent to Lindsey. At 13,000 feet we reached a saddle, and I made the mistake of leaving my Hokas on, it wasn’t a game changing mistake, but would cause some difficulty on the class 3 ridge ahead.
Homie followed me up the ridge (I prefer to avoid the class 2+, loose gully and take the more solid ridge route instead) and we made it to the summit just as darkness was settling in. Even with Homie to talk to, I immediately felt the onslaught of the sleep demons. I was starting to lose my balance with each step, and felt the weight of my eyelids.
As we neared the difficult part of the ridge, I was having trouble because climbing down with the Hokas on was difficult. Homie had just commented on how I had a big advantage in the 14er routefinding because of all the time I spent on the routes with the kids. I agreed, and then managed to veer off the ridge to the right. Some how I managed to not only downclimb the hard part of the ridge, but I also ended up back in the loose gully that I was trying to avoid in the first place. Homie chose a better path and we both made it down to the trail, much further down that I had expected. I was kicking myself for not switching shoes, as I just didn’t have any confidence on the sketchy terrain in the dark.
We made it back to the saddle at 13,000 feet, picked up our poles and packs and began the remaining descent. On the next steep section, I think I was annoying Homie. I was tired and all of the aches and pains over my body seemed to amplify. I must have sounded pretty ridiculous as with each footfall: “Ow, oooh, eee, ahhh” all the way down. The trail leveled out for awhile, and at a low point where the trail was about to start climbing again, I made a quick stop. When we started going again I didn’t realize it, but I had started back up in the direction we had come! Something didn’t feel right, so I commented to Homie that although I knew we were on the right trail, something didn’t seem quite right. Then I looked up at the North Star and realized my mistake. Doh! So much for my masters knowledge of the routes!
Back on track, we continued on down the trail and had to start making our way through some annoying snow drifts in the trees, and to Homie the descent must have sounded like a miserable song of tormented souls: “Ow , oooh, eee, eee, ah, Ow, Ow, #$%$#!”.
The couple of miles of the trail was relatively flat and I was definitely walking like a drunk, veering left and right just doing what I could to keep my eyes open and stay on the trail. I was definitely feeling beat up. Both knees were in rough shape and my feet felt terrible.
It was a relief to get to the trailhead around 11:30 pm, and as expected the dirt bike was waiting for me. James and I had figured I could save time by dirt biking down, and now I was regretting that decision because I was so tired. I said goodbye to Homie, who was planning on taking a nap in his van, and started riding down the road. I didn’t know exactly where I was going, but figured my crew would be parked in an obvious location.
Usually the dirt bike gave me a shot of adrenaline, and would help fight off the sleep demons. However in this case that did not happen. My vision was blurry, and I was swerving left and right just trying to stay on the road. Thankfully it was steep but not too rocky, or I might have crashed often.
I was fighting hard to stay awake, and then as I looked forward something strange occurred. It was like a great black void. I could see the road ahead, but then somehow it just ended in…nothing. Like you might imagine the edge of the universe. It took my foggy mind a moment to utter the command “Stop!” But I wasn’t stopping quickly enough so I braked as hard as I could, squeezing the front brake and stomping on the rear brake. I didn’t make it, and crossed into the void, stopped and put my feet down. It wasn’t the edge of the universe at all–it was a puddle. Now my feet were soaked.
You might think that would wake me up, but after a minute I was dozing off again. So I pulled over, parked the bike, and took a 2 minute nap, just to refresh my brain a little bit and allow my blurry vision to clear. It is amazing what a two minute nap can do, because after the minutes I jumped back on the bike and continued down, and soon thereafter I saw my van parked in a large pullout.
However, only the van was there, no sign of any other vehicles. I knocked on the van, and woke up Calvin, Axel, and my mom. When I asked where everyone was, she told me that Andrea had been in an accident (and that she was OK), and that James and Will were off trying to help here out. I guess they had a plan that I was to leave the motorcycle, get in the van, and continue with just my mom while everything was worked out.
I was in kind of a daze as I heard this. But I did as I was told and parked the bike, and climbed in the van. I started eating some cold pizza as my mom started driving down the road.