Day 6, June 23, 2014
Mt. Yale
We arrived at the Denny Creek Trailhead for Mt. Yale at about 1:10 pm. I was only about an hour behind schedule but was so beat up that I asked for about an hour and a half of sleep.
Originally I considered going straight from Yale to Columbia. It would probably save me a little time, although it is rugged terrain. However, I decided a little bit of time with the support crew before the huge effort to come would be worth the extra time. So I just chose to do an out and back on the standard route of Mt. Yale.
When I woke up I was feeling pretty battered. I slowly set out at about 2:57 am, and made my way up the trail in the dark. I was tired but the little bit of rest refreshed my mind so I didn’t have to fight off the sleep demons anymore. I just plodded along listening to music thinking of nothing but the next step.
I had a little trouble staying on the trail in the forest due to some snow, but was always able to find the trail again. The sky was just starting to turn light as I made it to the ridge, and I was on the summit at 5:44 am.
Down at 10,700 feet I ran into Kim, who was hiking up the trail looking for me. She had just arrived after a couple of days off, and was going to stay until the end. She took my pack and we walked together down to the trailhead, which we reached at 7:44 am.
Columbia, Harvard, Oxford, Belford, and Missouri: Asthma, Whiteout Round 2, and Ice on Mt. Missouri.
For the first time it seemed like we had the whole support crew there. James, Andrea, Kim, Will, Mom, Calvin, and Axel. We piled into the vehicles and I tried to catch another 45 minutes of sleep on the drive to the North Cottonwood Trailhead for the start of Columbia Peak.
We all arrived at the trailhead at about 8:30 am, and it took about 20 minutes to get ready to go. I was expecting to be away from the crew for about 15 hours, so my pack was pretty heavy. Now that everyone on support was here, things were starting to operate much more smoothly. Andrea had settled into her role as medic, Kim would prepare my pack, James was my chief strategist and navigator, and Mom and Will would fill in wherever necessary. I loved having Calvin and Axel along, I felt that no matter what happened with me, it would be a great experience for them.
At 8:48 am I was ready to go. James decided to hike Columbia and Harvard with me, and I was grateful to have someone carry my pack all the way to 11,000 feet. We weren’t hiking particularly fast, but the weather was nice, and my spirits were up. I was optimistic about being able to beat my expected splits.
There was lots of snow in the trees near treeline, and I missed the normal turnoff to Columbia. However we found another trail that we were able to follow to the base of Columbia’s steep southwest slopes. Many people malign this route up Columbia, but for some reason I have always enjoyed it. Probably because it so steep that I can achieve a pretty ascent speed. Just maintaining a steady pace we were averaging about 2000 feet per hour once we were on the steep slopes. James didn’t seem to be having any trouble keeping up with me, and I noticed that I was breathing pretty hard.
One nasty part about Columbia is that once you gain the ridge, which looks like the summit from down below, you see the actual summit which appears to be a mile away on the ridge. And that is not the actual summit either, once you reach that point you see the real summit off in the distance again. By the time we were between the false summit and the actual summit, the wind had come in and a dark cloud appeared over us. I put on some warm stuff, but the storm didn’t materialize. However I did notice storms off in the distance to the north and west.
We reached the summit at 11:32 am, and immediately continued towards Mt. Harvard. The Columbia to Harvard traverse is not my favorite traverse. It starts with steep loose boulders, you have to drop all the way to 12,400 feet, and then there are something like seven false summits as you near Harvard. As you might expect, I aimed toward the first snowfield that I could find and slid down the soft snow. James stayed a little behind me and we continued down steep boulders until we reached a very steep, loose drop off. We descended this loose rocky slope for about 100 feet before finding another snowfield that we gleefully descended all the way to the lowpoint of the traverse.
We filled up our water bottles and began the 2000 foot climb to Harvard up very nice grassy slopes. The seven false summits of Harvard didn’t seem so bad today, perhaps they seemed terrible because in the last few years I have always had the kids on this part, and each and every false summit seems more horrible than the next when the kids are on the trip.
We reached the summit at 1:56 pm. James headed back down to the North Cottonwood Trailhead, and alone again I descended north on the rugged, seldom climbed route down to Pine Creek on the traverse to Oxford. My goal for the day was to get off Missouri (perhaps the most treacherous route on the Sawatch peaks if you choose the East Ridge) before dark. It was going to be close.
I started descending large boulders and shortly I ran into a superman kite. I wondered about this kite and how far it had flown. Pretty amazing to fly so far and come to rest right near the summit of the state’s third highest peak!
The bad news was that Missouri, Oxford, and Belford were in the midst of a storm, and snow was blowing up the mountain from down in the valley below. I was still in snow but was headed straight at the dark clouds. A stiff wind was blowing the storms through quickly and I hoped it would clear before I reached the mountains ahead.
Given that I was downclimbing the north side of Harvard, I hoped for some large snowfields to glissade, but was disappointed. For some reason this side of Harvard was pretty dry. I had completed this traverse about 4 times before, and rather than looking for a quicker route I just followed the route that I was used to. It was nice to be here in the daytime, as with Calvin and Axel we usually travel slow enough that we end up bushwhacking this in the dark, which seriously complicates the traverse.
It was difficult going down the ridge with snow blowing hard straight up the mountain into my face, but the storm relented as I followed a finger of talus into the forest below treeline. Pine Creek was littered with fallen trees and I was able to cross the raging stream by walking across a maze of crisscrossing trees. Then a little more bushwhacking to reach the trail that ascends the valley, a right turn to a large grassy meadow, and up and into a thick band of short aspens that guard access to a talus field that avoids the thick trees on the steep slopes up Oxford. The sun was out, but the wind was still fierce and to the west I could see some dark clouds moving in.
In this talus field I started having trouble breathing. It was a strange sensation for me, because no matter what it just didn’t seem like I could catch my breath. Yesterday I had covered 3000 feet on similarly steep terrain on antero in about 1:40 minutes. Today I was moving nearly twice as slow, a couple of times after moving a little too fast I even fell to the ground breathing heavily, just unable to catch my breath. It was pretty scary, and anticipating a slow ascent I sent a message warning my team that I was about 1:30 behind schedule. By the time I reached the top of Oxford, it was 6:25 pm, so the traverse had only taken 30 minutes longer than in my plan, despite my breathing problems. However, it was more demoralizing that you might think because now that I know the traverse route so well I was secretly hoping to gain an hour on the traverse. Instead I was a total of about 2:15 behind schedule. So in my mind I felt like I was way behind.
As I started the much easier, 1 mile traverse to Belford, I was headed into some very dark clouds. The wind was blowing hard right in my face. After descending to the saddle between the two peaks, I slowly moved up the hill, at a pace where breathing was difficult but not bad enough to send me to the ground. I sounded like Darth Vader nearing death as a wheezing sound escaped my mouth with every exhale.
I reached the summit of Belford 7:26 pm, in the thick of a full on summer Blizzard. The wind was blowing so hard I could barely stand, and the snow was blowing straight up the mountain into my face. By the time I turned and descended toward Elkhead pass there was already an inch of snow all over the mountain. I convinced myself that the support crew was completely worried about me. And I expected that James would be heading up to find me and give me some company on the way off of Missouri, which I was now very likely to be descending in the dark.
Speaking of Missouri, this was the peak I had been dreading all day. Although I have climbed the East Ridge several times, perhaps it is the ridge’s horrible reputation as a loose, dangerous pile of crap that always makes me nervous about it. The last time I had the opportunity to climb it, with Calvin, Axel, and Andrea, I chickened out and hiked down to Missouri’s standard route. It is much easier but you sacrifice a significant amount of elevation and add over a mile to the route. Another option would be to drop south off of Elkhead pass and loose some elevation, and follow the terrain to the South Ridge of Missouri.
Given the blizzard like conditions, I did not want to climb up the East Ridge of Missouri. However, as I stood on Elkhead pass contemplating my route, I realized that even dropping 600 feet to the standard trail would take much longer than usual. It was my breathing that I was concerned about. And without a clear view to the south I didn’t want to try the route that heads to Missouri’s south ridge. I decided to go with the dreaded East Ridge. Technically, I don’t actually follow the ridge all the way to the summit. Perhaps that is why it has never seemed as bad as its reputation implies. What I usually do is follow the ridge until it just seems correct to contour south. Eventually I turn and head up the southern face via loose rocky ledges that for the most part do not exceed class 3.
However, the current conditions were not ideal. The wind was still blowing hard, but at least the snow had stopped. The ground was warm enough to melt the snow so everything was soaking wet and treacherously slippery. I was wearing my speedcross shoes which have great traction…on everything except wet rock. Considering that I was going for the south side of Missouri, you would think that up against the rocky south face the snowfields would have melted out by now. But no…there was no such luck. When I contoured around to the south, the route was covered in steep snow. The snow was very deep. However, being that it was up against the cliffs of Missouri’s south side, the snow near the cliff was soft because of the warmth of the cliff, because the cliff receives plenty of sun during the day and warms up any snow that is adjacent to it. I tried stay in the snow a few feet from the cliff so that the snow would be more firm.
However, for the first time in my life I fell completely through the snow. It would have been fun to have a video of this, because it would be funny now to watch myself take a step and then completely disappear into the snow. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I had to climb up out of the hollow pit I had fallen into, and then had to crawl on my knees and elbows to avoid falling through again. With all of the snow I had no idea where to turn and start heading up the south face, so eventually I just felt I had gone far enough so I just turned and slowly made my way up the wet rocks. It was a maze like area of ledges and headwalls and loose rocks. I just always kept to what seemed like the path of least resistance, the difficulty exceeded class 3 in a couple of spots, or perhaps it just seemed that way because everything was so wet.
I reached the East Ridge a fair distance to the east of the summit, so continued on the ridge towards the west. The sun was down and all traces of light would soon be gone. It was much colder on the ridge, and some of the wet, melted snow had turned into ice, so the footing was treacherous.
I reached the summit at 9:09 pm, and in the cold wind pulled out my headlamp. I hoped I would see a headlamp headed up Missouri from the other side, as I figured the crew would be fearing for my life. But alas, I saw nothing but darkness.
I followed the long, snow riddled northwest ridge of Missouri to for about 20 minutes until I found the ridge that headed west towards Clohese (Cloyses?) Lake at the base of the next peak on my itinerary, Huron Peak. I had been a little worried about finding this turn in the darkness, but there was a large cairn on the trail and I recognized the turnoff. As I started down the ridge I was in rough shape. Both knees were just destroyed. My left ankle was hurting, my right shin was swollen, and I still made that strange sound whenever I except.
Descending was like linking a sequence of awkward hops, jumps, steps, and falls…all to the sound of a symphony of ooohs, aaaahs, ouches, grunts, groans, sighs, and swear words. For the first time during the record attempt I began to seriously question my body’s ability to continue, I was completely and utterly demoralized.
Yet, there was nothing to do but continue down into the complete darkness. Eventually the awful rocky terrain turned into pleasant grassy slopes. But it was a short respite, because soon I followed the trail to the left, and although it was still grassy it was extremely steep as I dropped off the ridge, and this intensified the pain in my legs. Once in the trees it was difficult to stay on the trail because of some snow, but with a couple of short backtracks I was able to stay with the trail, and this was no small feat because it was at this time that the sleep demons were attacking. I remember having thoughts such as “During the record attempt I should really try to nail this route. Wait, this is the record attempt! Oh crap!”, and I became confused and started wondering where people like Kim and Andrea were, only to remember that I was hiking alone.
One thing about sleep demons is that they make a short amount of time seem like an eternity. So after an eternity I was in the vicinity of the lake, and I was surprised not to see anybody from my crew. I was fully expecting to see the crew, rushing up with concerned looks, armed with medical kits, food and blankets. They must have seen the massive storm up on the mountains and become very worried, and then they must have seen my light heading down the ridge.
We hadn’t even decided for sure yet if I would continue up the rugged east side of Huron, or if we would drive around so I could climb Huron from the standard west side. In any case, I was at 11,000 feet now and was desperate for my support crew!
I considered the possibility that they were not able to make the river crossing 3 miles below. Perhaps nobody would meet me here at all? But then it occurred to me that the plan may have been for them to stay with the car down the road where a gate blocks further access to the lake—I couldn’t remember. So I followed the trail until I found the road, and shortly found the gate, and thankfully there they were, in Kim’s Jeep Liberty, it was 11:02 pm.
Expecting to finally get some empathy, sympathy, medical care, food, warmth, etc., I yelled hello. Kim nonchalantly responded. James, Kim, Andrea, and Will were all packed into the Liberty, and my best description is that it seemed like a party car. I half expected the door to open and loud music to be playing and smoke to come pouring out of the windows.
Didn’t they understand what I had just been through???!!! Andrea, Kim, and Will squeezed in the back to make room for me in the front, and James told me to get in for the ride around to the west side of Huron. Well, at least that decision was made!
They had no idea there had been a big storm up there, and they weren’t concerned about me because on the way up Oxford I had sent a message saying I was already 1:30 behind schedule, so they weren’t worried that I was late. I tried to explain to them what I had been through, and that my body was falling apart and that I was having trouble breathing. But if I was looking for sympathy, I wasn’t going to find it in this crowd! “Maaahhhhmmmeeeee, where are you”!
I realized that I was very uncomfortable up here in the front seat, who the hell had been sitting up here, someone with extremely short legs? Axel? There was no leg room and my legs were cramping up. And wow was it hot! “How do you open the fucking window in here?!” Apparently Jeep thought it would be cool to put the window opening buttons in the center console, what? It is safe to say that I was in a pretty grumpy mood…No one seemed to notice.
One thing about James, if you ever ask him a question, it would simply be impossible for him to say “I don’t know”. He always has an answer, no matter the subject, he will answer as an authority on the subject. I rattled off my list of complaints: Me: “Swollen knee, it really hurts, can I continue?” James: “Patella bruise, I get those all the time, it won’t slow you down.” Me: “I had trouble breathing, couldn’t catch my breath. I thought I might die!” James: “We’ll get you an inhaler, you’ll be fine.” Me: “I have a swollen area on my shin, it hurts!” James: “Andrea must have bruised it while rolling your legs. You can deal with a little pain, right?”
Although it was quite comforting to hear James have an authoritative answer for everything and nothing was a problem…I had kind of expected that and had no idea if he really knew what he was talking about.
We bounced on down the road until we came to the river crossing. Thank goodness we hadn’t planned on the dirt bike, I certainly would have drowned in that river crossing!
After the river crossing we made it to the regular dirt road that heads to Winfield, an old historic town near the trailheads for Huron and La Plata. We drove straight up to the upper 4 wheel drive to Huron.