Castle Peak trip goes afoul

One of the most important things to remember about mountaineering is that reaching the summit is never a guarantee.  When variable factors come in to play, like the human element, weather and snow conditions, each constantly changing, luck must be on your side.  I've been turned around from numerous 14er's now, including the Wilsons, Quandary, Handies, and now Castle and Conundrum.

In this case I only got as far as the Trail head.  May 23 was a rainy and cold day in the Elk Mountains and I hardly felt invigorated as I started this trip.  Optimistic that the weather would clear, as predicted, I proceeded, anyways, and drove down Castle Creek Road to the road for Pearl Pass and set up my tent during a break from the drizzle.  I ate dinner, and following my usual routine, I set the alarm for 3am and go to sleep.  The pit-patter of rain on my tent serenaded me to sleep.

The cell phone alarm somehow failed to work, but I instinctively wake up at 3am to dead silence.  "Oh yes!" I thought.  "The rain has stopped!"  Sure enough it had, but the story doesn't end there.  I slowly rose to a seated position and my head contacts the roof of the tent which feels extremely heavy.  "Oh no!  There's snow on my tent."  I started beating the sides of the tent and the snow slid off in large, soggy clumps.  I felt around for my headlamp, turned it on and unzip the tent to peer around.  Sure enough, the headlamp lit up a keleidescope of snowflakes pummeling down.  Already, six inches were on the ground. 

Remembering how poorly my Honda Civic performs in snow, especially the wet stuff, I haphazardly repacked the car, threw down the tent.  I drove out of there, and that became the end of my Castle Peak adventure.

C'est la Vie!

Snowmass Mountain, May 21, 2012

Snowmass Mountain

El: 14,092'

Route:  Snowmass Creek approach, east slopes route to summit

Trailhead: Maroon Snowmass

Elevation Gain: 5,800'

Round Trip mileage: 23 miles


After climbing a handful of 14er's that were easy to access, each being no more than a day-hike, and requiring very little technical challenge, I decided it was time to push my limit again.  Feeling thoroughly
warmed up after my previous string of six summits, I fixed my attention to Snowmass Mountain in the Elk's range, which would be a mileage-intense backpacking trip, including an 17 mile round-trip approach and 5 mile roundtrip summit route.  Of all the peaks I've climbed, Snowmass Mountain provided a diverse number of challenges, ranging from a long backpack hike, significant elevation gain, deep post-holing in snow, steep snow-climbing, exposed ridge scrambling and a rather unpleasant scree descent, making it among my most celebrated Colorado summits, in good company with Kit Carson Peak/Challenger Point from last year.  There were moments of the climb that even felt reminiscent of Mount Hood and Mount Rainier, especially considering the ungodly hour at which I had to begin my summit bid, and the donning of crampons, helmet, head lamp and iceaxe.

The long approach hike began at the Maroon Snowmass Trailhead at about 3:30 PM along Snowmass Creek, and entered a stunning valley, which cuts southward through the Elk's range.  For those seeking a less-extreme adventure, this trail affords a great day-trip.  The route takes you along roaring white-water of Snowmass Creek, through glistening aspen groves, and across reflective beaver ponds.

Entering the wilderness boundary.  A reminder that you are going to a beautiful place.

From a view point, snow-clad peaks of the Elk's come in to view

Beaver' are actually true artisans, creating this beautiful reflective pool for my enjoyment.

Crossing over a beaver pond to regain the trail on the other side

 The ponds would be a great turnaround point for day-hikers, as the difficulty increased from here.  In several switchbacks, the trail made a hearty accent towards Snowmass lake, and the post-holing fun began.  The trail, obviously not as well maintained from here, required several scampers over fallen trees.  Overall, the difficulty was moderate, but after 7 miles of hiking with a heavy pack for the first time this summer, the last push to the lake was not enjoyable.  My instinct in bringing snowshoes paid off within the last half mile of the lake where the post-holing became a pretty consistent occurrence.  It was near here that I discovered I was not alone, and met a very friendly couple all the way from New Brunswick: Russel and Nicole, slowly making their way through the snow slog.  I was surprised they had heard of Snowmass Mountain, but they obviously did their research, and planned a trip which would take them to one of Colorado's most incredible mountains.  Once I reached the lake, along with my new friends, the tribulations of the afternoon quickly washed away as we were greeted with a stunning alpine setting at the edge of Snowmass Lake.  Still light at 8:00 PM, the first order of business was to photograph the scene.  Choosing camaraderie with fellow hikers over solitude, we pitch our tents close to one another and spend the evening regaling one another on our adventures as we set up our tents and eat our dinners.  Before bed, we discuss our differing ideas on our route choices to the peak.  At about 10 PM we are all in bed and Alarms are set for about 3 AM.

Ah, yes!  How magical it is to be in the one place you most want to be at this moment!  Snowmass Lake.

Thank you Russel for the photograph.

The infamous scree-field at the east end of the lake.  I opt to take the continuous snow chute on the left of the scree-slopes.  It looks quite intimidating from here.  Russel and Nicole opt to stay on the rock.

There is never anything fun about waking up while it is still dark and feeling groggy from lack of sleep, to go climb a mountain in the cold.  It is something that must be done out of necessity.  But trading sleep deprivation and cold temperatures over a daytime post-holing nightmare and potentially dangerous wet snow slides is always the wiser choice.  The beginning of the summit morning was arduous and madenning!  At 3:30AM, I was the first to leave camp, and I made my way to the first obstacle, the stream crossing, a mere 15 yards or so from camp.  Still tired and fumbling around, I didn't maintain balance on a log, and splashed in to the water about knee deep, completely soaking my boots!  I returned to camp to switch in to drier socks, but the damage was already done.  I would spend my whole day with wet feet, argh!  After my false start, things didn't get any easier as I had to traverse along a snowbank on the south side of the lake, it's angle constantly wanting to pull me in to the water.  The only thought in my head was "why am I doing this?"

My morale improved as the sky lightened and I started to make out the silhouettes of the peaks, finally getting a visual reference beyond the scope of my head lamp.  I made my way to the snow chute I was eye-ing the evening before, relieved to discover it wasn't nearly as steep as I thought and it ended up being a great alternative over the standard route up the scree.  The rising sun coincided nicely with me rising to the toe of the namesake snowfield on the east face of Snowmass mountain, which indeed is absolutely massive!  From here the snow climb relented in steepness and became very pleasant on the solid snow of early morning and my crampons purchased wonderfully.  This was the most relaxing, meditative section of the whole trip, where I fell in to my groove and pacing.  Gazing in to the morning alpenglow, the negative thoughts of that morning quickly washed away.

Nearing the edge of the "snowmass", overlooking the lake.

Alpenglow on Snowmass Mountain (right)

The sun arrives to warm my day.

The steep face of Snowmass Peak (not to be confused with Snowmass Mountain) seen to my left.

Snowmass Mountain, however, still had some tests in store for me.  Closer to the ridge, the slope angle steepened once again and the snow, having been in direct sunlight for a couple hours, was quickly deteriorating into a slushy mess.  I decided to follow the snow nearer to the peak summit rather than heading out of it sooner, south of the peak and along the ridge.  I reached my crux, a 6-7 foot tall snow cornice which I stabbed with my ice axe.  After a couple committing steps I popped out on top of the ridge, to be greeted with an outstanding view of the majestic Elk's Range, which came with the price of significant ridge exposure.  From here I removed my crampons, set down the iceaxe and proceed north up a class 3 scramble to the ridge summit, arriving at 7:56 AM.  I took my usual set of photos, and, after spending no more than about 15 minutes on the summit, I made a very slow, meticulous down climb off the summit, regathered my gear and traversed along the ridge to a snow ramp that made for an easier snow descent.

So close to the ridge now!  The cornice on the left side is my final crux move.

Another view of the cornice, adorned with icicles.  Yes, it was quite steep!

BAM!  Now on top of the ridge the view comes on forcefully

Sitting below the summit rock.  I had to set a self-time for this.  10 seconds wasn't enough to climb the rock. :(

View of "North Snowmass".  On a day with better snow stability I would have climbed this, too.

Before 9:00 AM the snow up top was already trash and I was quickly post-holing on this steep slope.  I also became aware of a new hazard, hidden rocks underneath the snow, which absorbed warmth from the sun, creating a void in the snow.  I dropped in chest-deep at one point.  While still soft, the snow gradually improved as I climbed further down, and plunge-stepping most of the way, travel started to become much more efficient.  I spent the whole morning wondering about the progress of Russel and Nicole and I finally see them arrive on the snowfield not long before 9:00AM.  Their choice to climb the scree field must have cost them some time.  They summed it up in one word: "miserable".  After a few minutes involving a couple sitting glissades and more plunge stepping, I quickly reach them.  I quickly fill them in on the adventure thus far, and report on the snow conditions.  They make the decision to continue on until the post-holing became too great, an inevitability, I told them.

I made it back down the snowfield in what seemed like no time.  Not wanting to descend the chute I climbed up. I headed down the scree-filled gully, intermixed with snow, back to the lake.  There wasn't much to say about it, other than it's unpleasant nature, already mentioned.  It felt warm, and comfortable at the east shore of the lake and I took some time to chow down on some salty and sweet snacks before I made that awful traverse along the lake again, involving more post-holing, of course.

I hated this snow bank along the lake, but it was the only way to and from camp!  I keep my iceaxe in hand the hole time.  While a slide here was of low consequence, a slide in to the recently thawed lake would have been extremely unpleasant.

Panoramic view of the lake.  Snowmass mountain crowns the large snowfield on the left. 

Back at camp at 11:00 AM, I ripped my boots, wet socks, and gators off as quickly as possible and listened to my feet sing "Hallelujah!"  I assembled my gear to dry, and laid out in the sun to thaw out. I fell asleep in my tent for a couple hours.  After growing restless, I unziped the fly and clambered out, just as Russell and Nicole are returning.  The report: they turned around not far below the ridge as soon as the post-holing reached the chest-high level.  And their verdict?  "We'll be back again!"

We chatted for awhile, ate more food, rested our feet, and I soon started packing up all my belongings to make the trip back down, turning a long day in to an extremely long day.  I start walking out at 3:30 PM and arrive back at the car around 7:00 PM.  I traded out my now very uncomfortable leather boots for flip flops and drove to the Glenwood Springs Hostel, my crash pad for the night.  Would I go climb Snowmass Mountain tomorrow?  No.  But someday will it warrant a second trip? Absolutely!

The car!  I'm done!

Oh, and let's not forget our honorary guest appearance by my friend Gilbert!  Yes, I habitually give names to marmots while hiking.  If you don't like it, well, I guess you shouldn't be hiking with me.

 

Mount Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln and Bross, May

Mount Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln, and Bross

El: 14,148', 14,238', 14,286, 14,172, respectively

Route:  Ascended northeast slope of Mt. Democrat, descended west slope of Mt. Bross

Trailhead: Kite Lake

Elevation Gain: Aprox. ?

Round Trip mileage: ?
Start Time/Finish Time: 6:15 AM/ 1:30 PM

After hiking seven 14er's in 7 days, the exact details of each climb are starting to fade.  So, before more time passes, I thought I would report on my climbs of Mount Democrat, Cameron, Lincoln and Bross, near the small town of Alma, perched at 10,580 feet, where they claim to have the "Highest Saloon in America" and about 20 miles south of Breckenridge.  From the center of Alma, a dirt road (CR 8) travels Northwest about six miles to Kite Lake at 12,000'.  In all my years of hiking I have never found a trailhead at higher altitude.  This one is even complete with an outhouse.  Following my usual routine of establishing a base camp and rising early to take advantage of frozen, consolidated snow, I spent the night at the lake, which, was also the highest point I had ever slept, beating my previous record of 11,700 feet at Lake Katherine near Santa Fe, New Mexico.  The Kite Lake basin affords a great view of Cameron and Bross.  Democrat is the left-most peak, but its actual summit is hidden from view.  Lincoln, tucked behind Cameron is completely obscured.

Kite Lake Trailhead, at 12,000' where I set up camp and rested for my summit bids the next day.

 I woke up on May 18th at about 5:30 AM to do my first snow climb of the season up Mt. Democrat.  Normally I would get moving much earlier than this, but the cold temperatures were keeping the snow rather stable throughout the entire morning.  The steepness was moderate, and after dealing with the loose rocks in the Sawatch Range, I thoroughly enjoyed the snow and getting used to my ice axe and crampons again.

After beginning my snow climb on Mount Democrat and overlooking still-frozen Kite Lake

The southeast face of Mount Democrat.  Still a ways to go!

Higher up this time, looking down at my snowy path below

When I gain the ridge, the view of Mt. Democrat's actual summit comes in to view

 I'm  not entirely remembering my summit time on each of the peaks, but I believe I made it to the Summit of Mt. Democrat around 8:30 AM.  Despite sleeping lightly the night before, and substantially less oxygen going to my brain, I had there mental where-with-all to throw in my political $0.02.  As of yet, I don't know of any "Mt. Republican" that compels a climb.

I did just summitted "Mt. Democrat" and this somehow seemed fitting

From Mt. Democrat, There is a complete view of Mount, Cameron, Lincoln, and Bross, aligned nicely along the ridge to the east.  The route was completely straight-forward, with no difficulty exceeding easy Class 2.  This is by far the easiest place in Colorado to bag multiple peaks in a day, four in this case. (This is, if you include Cameron, which is not an officially ranked 14er, but is still listed in the Gerry Roach guide book.)

Descending the east ridge of Mount Democrat and steadily making my way towards Mount Cameron

I had to loose a fair amount of my hard-earned elevation as I descended Mount Democrats's connecting ridge to Mount Cameron, and then regain it to make the next summit.  The climb, in general was quite chilly and often breezy, but I had a short respite while ducked behind some rocks on Mount Lincoln and the temperature rose briefly.  It was a fine place to take an extended break, especially being the day's highpoint. 

On the Summit of Mount Lincoln, the highest point of the day

 Once I left Mount Lincoln, the wind along the ridge to Mount Bross was terrible, gusting up to 60mph, I'd guess.  I encountered a sign on the way to the summit, which bars access to the top,  but I decided to ignore it because I wasn't previously aware of any red tape, and I reached my last summit of the day at exactly 12:00 PM, a perfect time to descend. 

Yes, I saw the sign.  Yes, I read it.  And yes, I still went.

 The descent route was confusing.  There were the remains of multiple mine shafts amongst the scree and a criss-cross of old roads.  I follow one of these roads and realize quickly that I am off route as it leads in to a deep gully.  Uninterested in regaining the trail which was high above me, I followed the gully down to the Kite Lake Basin, finding a few opportunities to do a standing glissade in the snow.  I reach the car at about 1:30 PM, rest for awhile, disassemble my tent and drive away.  I stop at the saloon in Alma for a delicious Greek pizza and at a coffee shop for a hot chai, before leaving for Breckenridge, where I stayed the evening at the Firehouse Inn.  The next day I planned to climb Quandary peak, the one 14er of the Ten-Mile Range, but the weather had other ideas.  I woke up to gray skies, rain, snow and wind.  I was also teased by intermittent bursts of sunlight through the clouds.  I decided it was a good day to rest, and I quickly started planning my upcoming climb on Snowmass Mountain.  

Looking up the descent route.  It was not exactly "pleasant"

Mt. Yale, May 17, 2012

Mount Yale

El: 14,196

Route:  Ascended East Ridge, Descended Southwest Slopes

Trailhead: Avalanche Gulch

Elevation Gain: Aprox. 4,826'

Round Trip mileage: 10.6 miles
Start Time/Finish Time: 6:27 AM/ 1:30 PM
Summit Time: 10:30 AM


The Sawatch Range in Colorado boasts the highest concentration of 14,000 foot mountains anywhere in the United States, so I decided it was worth staying in the area to bag at least one other peak near Buena Vista.  I decided on Mount Yale for it's easy accessibility.  When you drive a passenger cat it is always relieving to find a road to the trailhead which is paved.  I camped out at the Collegiate Peaks Campground on Cottonwood Pass Road (CR 307), waking up early to begin my climb from the Avalanche Gully Trailhead at 6:27 AM.

Much like Mt. Princeton, Mt. Yale yielded very few technical difficulties, but what I encountered was a much colder day than two days ago.  And the wind was intense, and hindered my progress just a little.  My ski gloves stayed on for most of the day, as well as wind protection layers.  Even with the less than favorable weather, it did not deter other climbers from climbing Mt. Yale.

About two minutes after I arrived at the summit, I met a fellow climber, who had come up from the opposite route (the southwest slopes).  Coincidentally, I had read a trip report he posted just last week on 14ers.com, the largest information source on Colorado's highest mountains, under the name "Rcizzle".  I joined him on the descent and learned he has climbed over 40 14er's and it was a great opportunity to learn about the other peaks.  An added bonus,  I was able to save 2.9 miles of walking along the Cottonwood Pass Road, as he gave me a ride back to Avalanche Gulch.

Not a bad view to start the day!  Cottonwood Lake is on the left, seen from the Colorado Trail

On the ridge between Pt. 12,505' and Pt. 13,605' (which blocks Mt. Yale)

After passing Pt. 13,605 Mt. Yale comes clearly in to view.  Only another 600 vertical feet to go!

At the summit. Mt. Harvard and Mt. Columbia are to the right of me.

 

Mt. Princeton, first Colorado 14er climb of 2012

Mount Princeton

El: 14,197

Route:  East Slopes

Trailhead: Mt. Princeton Road, 2wd Parking

Elevation Gain: Aprox. 5,500'

Round Trip mileage: 9 miles 
Start Time/Finish Time: 6:30 AM/ 2:50 PM
Summit Time: 10:55 AM

Me at the summit of Mt. Princeton

I wanted to get this blog underway before the adventures of 2012 got underway.  Now I will use it to write trip reports of each of my most exciting mountain adventures.  May 15 marked my first climb on a Colorado 14er in 2012.  I decided upon Mt. Princeton, an easy peak near Salida, CO, which I felt would be a good way to get warmed up for what I hope will be a very productive climbing season.  By easy I really mean easier, as no 14er is without its challenges.  And very few do you simply "walk up".  And each have the challenge of altitude.

I camped out the night before at the start of the Mount Princeton Road Trailhead.  Do not even attempt driving up the road in a low-clearance vehicle.  I made this mistake and had to turn around which required some difficult maneuvering.  Instead of trying to get a "cheat" start.  I camped lower down at 8,900 feet in a parking lot near a horse stable.  I must say it was a pretty unpleasant base camp, and in many ways I would have preferred camping at 11,300 feet where the road ended at a nicely-built stone hiker's shelter.  It would have made for a very easy summit day.  Alas, there is much more to be said for climbing a mountain.  The peaks of the Collegiate range are impressive in their enormity and there is no better way to appreciate it than on foot.

Once I hiked to the end of the road, I began my climb by crossing over "Tigger", a point on the way to Mt. Princeton, along it's east ridge.  It wasn't long before I got introduced to the nasty choss, or loose rocks, for which many of the Sawatch peaks are known.

At the end of the road, looking up the east ridge to "Tigger", el. 13,300

 Once past the summit of "Tigger" I was constantly trekking through fresh snow, which had fallen during the mother's day storm which plagued Colorado with hail, rain and high wind.  Herein lay the greatest challenge of the climb.  The snow was only deep enough to barely cover many of the rocks and concealed most of the gaps between rocks.  It was difficult to know where to find good footing and the rocks would trap my lower legs occasionally.  While I had to be conscious of each step and the going was slow, I felt every urge to keep going.  It wasn't anything I hadn't encountered many times before on previous trips.

Once I hit the saddle between "Tigger" and Mount Princeton, the remaining ridge to the summit consisted of a slow, uneventful class 2, slog to the summit, dealing with the same rocks and snow challenge.  I returned via the main trail which traversed along the north side of the east ridge and it was a relief to my legs to make it back to the road.  All in all,  Mt. Princeton was a great climb and yielded an A+ view of the Arkansas valley 6,000 feet below!

On the ridge between "Tigger" and Mt. Princeton. View to the south of neighboring 14er, Mount Antero

Why Mountain Guide?

“It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life, that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.”

 Ralph Waldo Emerson

I've been mulling over this thought in my head for the last several days, "what is it that makes a mountain guide?  Why do I really want to enter this line of work?"  To me it isn't about virtue, glory, or in some way having to prove myself to the world.  The mountains are a place where egos have face their most serious test; the strong discover they are weak and the weak discover they are strong.  The mountains do not discriminate and they care not for the humans ascending their slopes.  The temperatures may plummet, the winds may howl, rock and ice may crumble upon us.  No matter who we are, rich or poor, white or black, strong or weak, the mountains present all of us with the same elements. Human ingenuity is ultimately no match for the eternal power of the mountains.  So, if mountain guiding isn't about conquering the unconquerable and our relationship with the mountains, themselves, what is it really about? 

I've determined that mountain guiding is really about people.  When I observed my RMI guides on Mt. Rainier, or my NOLS instructors in Alaska I saw some of the most remarkable people I had ever met.  Their physical achievements are not what impressed me the most, rather it was their ability to relate with people, in addition to their confidence, calmness under pressure, and reliability,  every quality I wish to possess.  The best piece of advice I've been given as an aspiring mountain guide is basically this:  "If you don't like people, forget it!  This career isn't for you!"  Clients are investing a lot of time, not to mention a substantial amount of money, because they have determined their goal of climbing a mountain.  Herein lies the real work of the mountain guide, doing all in his power to help the clients achieve there goal of reaching the top, given limits of the conditions and weather.  There is something much more satisfying about helping someone attain the goal than getting their yourself.  I've had a small taste in this rewarding feeling when leading a friend or two up a New Mexico summit or high alpine lake, rewarding them with the experience of beautiful places I often take for granted.        

 

Who is Mountain Gallivanter?

Every blog has to start with a first post, so here it is.   

Mountain Gallivanter will be a collection of entries documenting the mountain climbing adventures of Scott Wiseman.  Yes, that is me!  I haven't exactly determined if gallivanter is an official English word.  If it is, it is a hardly used word.  This is how www.yourdictionary.com defines gallivanter: "a person who goes off or travels around in search of amusement, fun or adventure."  Mountain Gallivanter is an online pseudonym I gave myself years ago (it is also my Flickr name).  In fact, this blog sat on the internet for at least two years, entry-less, with merely this name.  Because I am one with an unquenchable thirst for "amusement, fun, or adventure" in the mountains, Mountain Gallivanter seemingly fits.

There you have it, the most boring introduction to a blog ever!  I've decided not to get too deep into the philosophy behind climbing mountains just yet.  I figure there will be plenty of opportunity for that later.  Instead, I will briefly introduce myself.

As a child growing up in New Mexico, it was the arid high country and the soaring Sangre de Cristo mountains which gave me my first introduction to the wonder and excitement of the outdoors.  After climbing nearly every mountain in the state over 12,000 feet, I began looking for bigger challenges.  In 2008, I went on a semester with the National Outdoor Leadership School, NOLS, where I had the opportunity to explore the glaciated Chugach Range and explore vast distances of the East Alaska Range.  I also began shifting my climbing focus to Colorado, where I have been to the top of numerous 14,ers (mountains over 14,000 feet in elevation) including Mt. Sneffels, Mt. Blanca, Kit Carson Peak, and Mt. Elbert.  My climbing resume also includes the highest mountain in California, and the contiguous 48 states, Mount Whitney (14,505').  My most proud achievements are my climbs of Mt. Hood (11,239') and Mt. Rainier (14,411'), the highest mountains in Oregon and Washington, respectively.  The summit of Mt. Rainier is not one that presented itself easily to me.  I climbed to 12,300' on the slopes of Mt. Rainier, just over 2,000' shy of the summit, only to be turned around due to exceptionally high avalanche danger.  2011 yielded a successful summit attempt.

The photo posted above was taken on the Disappointment Cleaver route on Mount Rainier on July 20, 2011 at nearly 13,500'.  The beauty of a sunrise on Mount Rainier inspires the soul more than words ever could, and it's scenes like this that can only begin to describe my love for the mountains.

It is in my nature to always look ahead for new and harder challenges.  Next on the horizon is to gather all the training necessary to be an alpine mountain guide.  There's no other profession that seems more enticing to me.  Also, the summer of 2012 will have me returning to the Colorado Rockies, which I will use as my training ground for eventually attempting higher and harder mountains.  I'm unsure day-by-day where my adventures will lead, but this blog will be the place to hear the latest word!