2009 B-sides and Rarities

Two years ago, several of my climbing fellows attempted an as-far-as-we-know unclimbed snow route on the south face of Otis Peak in RMNP. They had just gotten into the interesting part when a small avalanche swept down the couloir from above. Three climbers found shelter behind a rock. One climber took the full brunt of the avalanche and only held on thanks to his good stance and pair of ice axes. The fifth climber was swept away down the lower snowfields. Everyone was shaken, but fortunately unscarred from the ordeal.

We decided it might be time for a rematch this year. Six of us came for the fun this time, loaded with plenty of avalanche and climbing gear and a good sense of caution given what had happened last time. The pre-dawn hike in from Glacier Gorge went without incident and we witnessed a dramatic sunrise through blowing clouds. The light snow from the day before made it look a lot more like March than May in the Colorado high country.

Good lighting and bad weather while crossing the Loch

Zowie and the S. face of Otis Peak.

The south face of Otis Peak is a dramatic warren of pinacles, gullies, spires, and deep ravines. We weren't optimistic about our chances. The weather wasn't great, or even particularly good with warm temperatures and strong wind with very little visibility but this by itself wasn't that big a deal. The real concern was the snow. Above the Loch, we'd struggled with drifts of new, wind-deposited snow lying on top of deep, slushy 'sugar' left over from previous months. This combination made both slab (dry) and slush (wet) slides quite possible.

At 7:30, we stopped to make the call on whether to continue or not... and watched a wet slide come down a couloir adjacent to our intended route. The choice was pretty clear and there was no dissent! Instead, we hung around in the lovely meadow below Andrew's Tarn catching fleeting glimpses of the spectacular surrounding cirques and towers before turning around. Down in the trees above the Loch, we paused and spent an hour or two practicing avalanche rescue skills: beacon finding, probing, digging. Satisfied and hungry, we made our way out and got to Ed's Cantina (traditional post-climb venue) before noon.

Enjoying our well-earned mountain melons on Bear Peak in the rain.

For several arbitrary and poorly-formulated reasons, we decided it was imperative that we run up Bear Peak while carrying watermelons. Fortunately, Kari had acquired three specially-sized running melons which were only about the size of handballs not the full basket-ball sized fruit. Speed was discouraged by the rule that, if you passed someone carrying a melon, you were running too fast and would henceforth take over melon-carting duties yourself. Thus we were a hot and jovial bunch traversing from NCAR over to the Mesa Trail and up the hot, swelteringly-hot Fern Canyon at dusk. Sunset from the summit was somewhat underwhelming due to cloud cover and a light rain, but the melons provided more than enough sweet taste of victory.

Packing rinds and a 12" carving knife, we picked our way off the summit in the dark and down the lovely West Ridge trail. The lights from Boulder were lovely and periodic heat lightning lit the horizon to the east. Things were going very well until, on a smooth section of zippy downhill trail in the depths of Bear Canyon, I caught a toe and performed a flying ninja roll into the downslope undergrowth. Fortunately, I was running with helpful friends who immediately identified the small rock I'd hit and checked to make sure that what I'd landed in was not poison ivy. Meanwhile, I was going into shock at the side of the trail, fairly sure I'd injured both knee and thumb in my fall. Then the rain and lightning started in earnest. The last four miles out to NCAR were stoic.

NOT the end of the world as I knew it!

Our first outing was a real eye-opener. We loaded Joe in the backpack and started out for Cub Lake (a fitting destination for father and cub). After a nice lunch, we continued over the divide and down to the Pool, returning along a nice river to the car for a total distance of about 7 miles.

Our first real hike; 7 miles in RMNP.

The Cub at Cub Lake.

In terms of wilderness adventure, it's pretty tame, but it was a real, bone-fide hike with some rough trails, great scenery, and significant milage. Not just a walk around the block. Joe loved riding in the pack, looking at the trees, waterfalls, and lakes. This gives me great hope.

OK, he is still a baby after all...

The family that huddles together, stays together. Blue Lake in the Indian Peaks.

Joe was not duly impressed with Notchtop Mountain

...in fact, he was far more interested in cruising around in the bushes than looking at the majestic mountains.

Baby's First Thunderstorm

Summer is here and with it, the season of (easy) high-altitude running and peak-bagging! Having not gotten my mountain running fix in a while, I joined Chris, Andy, John, and Steve on a nocturnal run of Mt. Audubon that's becoming a pre-Fourth tradition....

Steve, Homie, and Chris cavort on the summit cairn of Caribou Benchmark

...only we didn't end up climbing Audubon or even going to Brainard Lake at all! We ended up at the Rainbow Lakes campground due to an accident that closed the Peak to Peak Highway. The first half of the run up the Arapaho Glacier Trail was through lovely dark forest on soft loam with heady smells of wet pine forest and campfires making me feel nostalgic. Once we got above treeline, we got a look at the night time alpine wilderness. I've been in the wilderness in the dark many times before, but usually it's in the bleary pre-dawn hours of an alpine start. Behind us, the foothills stook in stark silouette against the carpet of lights from Denver, Boulder, and all the Front Range cities. This was augmented by frequent flashes from a major thunderstorm moving out across the plains. Ahead, it was rising tundra slopes illuminated by the nearly-full moon whenever it peaked through the hurrying clouds. To the right, the mysterious Forbidden Watershed lay mysteriously cloaked in inaccessibility (boo, Boulder City!).

On Wednesday, I suddenly discovered that I have a great deal more vacation time saved up than I'd expected. A lot more! (Your outpourings of sympathy are really too much, really!). It's not that I had to spend it, but it's very much like finding a $20 bill in the pocket of a jacket you haven't worn in a while; you could just slip it in your wallet and go about your business, but suddenly you have a profound need to buy something with it! So I decided to take Thursday off and go for a mountain run.

I haven't been running much this season and I'd be going solo, so I decided to start with something relatively safe and easy; a run out to some high alpine lakes in the Wild Basin area of Rocky Mountain National Park. On the suggestion of a local friend, I started at the Allenspark TH instead of the usual Copeland Falls entrance. This turned out to be a nice change as I got fantastic views of the south face of Longs Peak et al. as the trail slabbed across a steep burn area.

Three miles in, I reached familiar terrain at Calypso Cascade, and set off for Ouzel Falls to the west. Above Ouzel, the terrain opened up again with great views of the Wild Basin peaks. Above Ouzel Lake, I climbed steeply into new terrain. Said terrain was littered with wildflowers, remnant snowfields, spectacular alpine views, and small waterfalls. Some the the views quite litterally took my breath away. The final climb up to Bluebird Lake at just shy of 11,000' required me to deploy my running axe for a belay (glad I'd brought it!). Bluebird Lake is truly spectacular with a great panoramic view of Ouzel Peak and some lofty snowfields above a deep cerulean lake of startling size and depth.

The spectacular Bluebird Lake in Wild Basin. Ouzel Peak on the Divide is in the center.

Mts. Neva and Jasper, IPW

Running the Mahoosuc Range, New Hampshire

I spent the first two decades of my life in the in-retrospect-amazing mountains of northern New Hampshire. I hiked all around and through the Presidentials, the Carter-Moriah Range, and right out the back door of my parents' farm, the wild Mahoosuc Range. Sure, they're not as big and pointy as the my current neighborhood, but they are still rugged, mysterious, and more than a little nostalgic. I've only been doing bone fide trail running for a couple years now and I hadn't been back to NH during the summer until this year. The foliage (best in the world) was just hitting it's stride, the trails were clear of snow, I was feeling fiesty and nostalgic for my old neighborhood, and I was several thousand feet below my normal operating altitude. Let's see what a Colorado-trained trail runner can do in the White Mountains!

The always-lovely Gentian Pond with the foliage just starting to turn.

It turns out that aerobic fitness wasn't my limiting factor. Lungs accustomed to running at a mile of elevation definitely helped and I cruised up the familiar woods roads and trails to the lovely Gentian Pond (3.5 miles, 1200') in an unprecedented 50 minutes. From there, I headed "south" (west, really) on the Appalachian Trail and got reminded about the difference between eastern and western trails. Most trails out west are graded for stock and tend to be pretty gentle climbs. Most New England trails don't bother with things like switchbacks and simply follow the shortest path from A to B, often over roots, rocks, and ridiculous (though short) grades.

The exertion was no problem and I was feeling great! But the trail was so technical that running would risk a spectacular crash. Instead, I power-hiked the trail around Gentian Pond, up to Upper Gentian, then the long, rocky trail over to Dream Lake with its two trails back down into the valley. Parts were runable, but mostly it was a spirited hike. Already I was behind schedule and was running out of supplies (I'd only brought a liter of water and a pair of energy gels), but it was so nice to be up here that I pressed on committing to another half-dozen miles of trail.

Switchbacks? We don't need no steenking switch backs. Trying to run down this would be insane.

Great views along the trail.

Father and son headed off up the familiar Yellow Trail.

Joe is properly excited about mountains now.

Despite having gotten out quite a bit with the sub-dude this summer into the mountains, we've yet to climb to the summit of a mountain, even a very small one. How fitting that Joe's first mountain be one that I climbed a lot as a youth, the lowly but lovely Mt. Crag (1400') in northern NH! It's two hours from my parent's back door to the summit and back at a very modest pace. Still, the views are great of the Androscoggin River, the Presidentials, the Moriah's and all the lands of my youth. The weather was fantastic and Joe had a blast crawling all over the bare, rocky summit, throwing pine needles in the air, and practicing his rock climbing.

James Peak Wilderness, CO

Kevin approaching Upper Crater Lake at 11,000'.

Upper Crater Lake

The weather was also of a transitional sort when Kevin and I set out from the East Portal TH: partly overcast with light snow and light winds. There were occasional patches of blue sky, but it didn't bode well for an ambitious hike. We hiked the familiar trail, popular in the winter and nearly deserted in the summer, up past the meadow and into the confusing series of winter/summer trails headed for Crater Lake.

Early Season Snow Report

Buoyed by a reported 31" snowfall at Eldora on Wednesday and Thursday, Scott and I headed up to Hessie on Sunday to take advantage of the early season snow bounty. It became clear on the drive in that the reported bounty must have compressed down, melted, or simply sublimated away during two sunny days. Still, we parked at the road "closure" (closure in quotes because several kind souls had decided to drive their SUVs through anyway and gain an extra hundred yards, deeply rutting the snow and making it oh so lovely for the rest of us.) and carefully skied the hammered ice toward the trails.