Season's End Round up

Winter is on our heels, and the warm season is gone for sure. Here is a recap of my latest adventures in the last few weeks of October. Keep a lookout for winter updates, because the climbing season never truly ends. I will be making posts including ice climbing and backcountry skiing for all you snow and ice freaks like me!

A Climber headed up Pitch One of Standard East Face  - Third Flatiron

   On the 7th of October, Dusty and I had the pleasure of climbing one of Boulder's most classic routes: the Standard East Face route on the Third Flatiron. This climb is long and moderate and can be accomplished by most anyone. I was eager to put this one up because despite being a Boulder native, I had never climbed a Flatiron!

Pitch Three. Photo Credit: Dusty B.

   The weather was sunny, and a little breezy. The route was very crowded for a week day. There were parties waiting at every belay station along the way. It is a sight to see so many teams waiting patently on 1000 feet of limestone. We climbed up slab in the sun for the first few pitches, before dipping into shadows as the sun set. The climbing was easy at 5.6 or so, with virtually no difficult moves. Many people simply free-solo this whole route in tennis shoes with no problems.
    Although the climbing took the better part of the day, conditions were good, and we were able to make it down the twin rappels before full darkness fell upon us. Spectacular climb.

Me Getting Ready for the Rappels. Photo Credit: Dusty B.

View from Hamburger Rock Campsite

   Over the weekend of the 14th of October, I made my first journey to Indian Creek in Utah. This area is famous for its endless intimidating splitter cracks. This trip was a departure from my other outings this season because it was out of state and I would be doing some volunteer work for the American Alpine Club. I attended the annual Indian Creek Volunteer Day organized by the illustrious Jim Donini of alpinism fame.
   For this trip, I decided to carpool and make some new friends. I rode up with Silvia and her daughter Giulia and their chiwawa Chiwi. Although we arrived late Thursday, we had to relocate up the road after making contact with Jim and the rest of the AAC volunteers. Jim had cordoned off a good space at Pasture Creek where we could congregate and camp. Silvia, Giulia and I spent the rest of the day at the Reservoir Wall about 4 miles east of our camp. This type of crack climbing and sandstone were all new to me, so I let Silvia do the leading since she had more experience.

Silvia's lead up the 5.10+ route called Neat

Watching some new friends who travelled from Canmore, Calgary to visit the desert.

    The climbing was humbling to say the least. Although my crack technique is not bad, it takes serious mettle to keep it together on a 120 foot overhanging hand crack, even on TR.

   On Saturday, about 50 volunteers assisted Bob from the BLM to tidy up camping spots at Hamburger Rock, just up the road from Creek Pasture. Our work included revegitation work, building tent-pads and levelling picnic tables, building a fence and other basic clean up work. We had so many willing volunteers that there was often not enough work to go around! For many, this work day was simply a rest day from crack climbing; a testament to the rough nature of the area.

Some Volunteers doing Revegitation Work

   Saturday night, we gathered around the campfire for some buffalo burgers and potato salad served up by Jim and his lovely wife Angela. The night was clear and the stars were bright. Bob from the BLM came and visited us to give this thanks. The area of Indian Creek has been seeing more use over the past few decades, and although it is completely unregulated, the desert ecosystem was being put under serious strain. Thanks in part to the efforts of the AAC, climbers from around the country have been showing up annually to help to take care of this beautiful area. 

   Jim Donini showed everyone what was what on the following day at his "Crack Climbing Clinic" at the Super Crack Buttress. Despite his 60+ years, Jim is a grand master of the climbing arts. His skill is a testament to the degree of finesse involved in what many see as a sport all about strength and endurance. Strength certainly counts for a lot, but one must know how to use one's body's natural strengths in order to climb with the greatest skill and efficiency. We spent the afternoon at Supercrack setting topropes so that everyone could have a shot at some of the classics. 

Some Fellow Volunteers Having a Go at the Crack

 
   The desert is a magical place. But serene and delicate, it requires our care if we are to continue visiting it. I will be sure to head back to the Creek soon, hopefully with more cams and a longer rope!

 
   I had the opportunity to embark on a number of excellent climbing adventures this past spring and summer. By reading past posts in this blog, you can follow my routes with me and my partners among the classics. My trad climbing and leading skills improved greatly this past season, and I can only hope that this winter will be as rewarding. The snows and ice of winter are coming, don't forget your direwolf!

Cragging Report - The Riviera, Boulder Canyon

Type: Single Pitch Sport

Team Members: Jake S., Tyler H.

Location: The Riviera, Boulder Canyon

Routes: Lease Agreement 5.10b, New Lease on Life 5.10a, Topless Etiquette 5.8, Le Nouveau Riche 5.10a

Jake headed up Topless Etiqutte

     Fall is here; The leaves are changing and things are cooling off. Today was an occasion that we could make our way back to a favorite south facing climbing locales without cooking. Before work, I planned to do some climbing with Jake in Boulder Canyon. Our destination was The Riviera, a classic crag containing a host of single-pitch sport and trad climbing routes. We were able to put up many routes, and another bluebird day was ours on the rocks in good ol' Boulder Canyon.

     The Riviera crag was located about seven miles up Boulder Canyon. Bolted routes stretch across the south facing cliff for about two hundred feet. This location is famous for its wide range of routes, ranging from a meager 5.6 all the way to 5.11b. In total, Jake and were able to climb four routes. We warmed up on a 5.8 known as "Topless Etiquette", in which one climbed up a crack system, linking to a broken quartz seam. From there, it passes up through granite jugs to a two-bolt anchor mounted upon a face. We then moved a route over to the more stout "Le Nouveau Riche," a 5.10a. This route passed mainly up a smooth slab, demanding balancy technique. With no footholds to speak of, we had to bear-hug our way on up. Feeling groovy, we moved on down to the end of the wall to hit two more 5.10's. A .10a steep slab-to-jugs clamber called "New Lease on Life" and a 10.b short-but-gnarly lieback finger-crack, "Lease Agreement." 

     As with many climbing locales close to town, routes can often become quite crowded. When Jake and I showed up, there was another group at the far end of the wall. We were surprised when a veritable conga-line of 8th graders began crawling their way up to the cliffs. Once arrived, young instructors carried ropes on lead up to anchors on the east end of the wall, so that young pupils could top-rope to their hearts content. Despite their size, they only held up at one end of the wall. It was fun to climb near to so many excited neophytes.

Schoolkids making their way up

Cragging Report - Lumpy Ridge, Batman Pinnacle

Trip Type: Multi-Pitch Rock Climbing

Team Members: Tyler H., Dusty B.

Location: Lumpy Ridge, Rocky Mountain National Park

Route: Batman & Robin, Batman Pinnacle

Type: Trad, 4 pitches, 5.6, ~400 ft in length

Dusty and I on the summit

      This week, my co-worker and co-adventurer Dusty and I headed up to Lumpy Ridge. The climbing last week on the White Whale route drew me back. Although Dusty and I had been on a backpacking trip together (see Fairchild Loop), this would be our first rock climbing outing. On a recommendation, we were going to climb the Batman and Robin route on Batman Pinnacle. The approach was shorter than to Left Book, which would mean that we would have more time to poke around after the climb. It was another splendid day of awesome climbing at Lumpy Ridge.

Dusty beneath Batman Pinnacle, near the start of our route

      We left Boulder at 9 a.m. and headed straight for the Park. With a clearer sense of direction this time around, we arrived at the trailhead without issue. Our route, Batman and Robin was located on the Batman Pinnacle, about 1.5 miles from the trailhead. Because it was located on a rock spire, our route was very easy to find. We climbed up steep terrain and boulderfields to arrive at the base of the route.

    Dusty prepared the rope for climbing while I racked up and searched the face for a clean way up.  Batman and Robin is a traditional route which is usually four pitches in length. It moves along granite flakes to beneath a giant flake, where I set up the first anchor. From there, I belayed Dusty up and thereafter, prepare to climb the next pitch. The second pitch passed up a crack system, through a short chimney move, up to the foot of the final section of the tower. I was able to link the second and third pitches, thereby keeping the climbing speedier. I again belayed Dusty up the next pitch, while he cleaned the gear from the rock, so it could be used on the next pitch. The final pitch was composed of easy moves up a series of blocks leading to a wide summit. From there we would use two bolt anchors to rappel off into a nearby rock gully to the east. On the descent, we made the spectacular rappel from the summit. From there we were forced to make two more rappels and do some downclimbing to get back to the base of the pinnacle, and our backpacks. Despite the lengthy process, it was a fun descent in classic mountaineering style.

Me leading up pitch two.  Photo Credit: Dusty B

The rappel from the summit! Photo Credit: Dusty B

     After the climb, we scrambled around to nearby Batman Rock to scope out some other moderate multi-pitch routes. Although we didn’t have enough time to climb another, we knew where to find them when we came back. Despite getting off trail and having to scramble down a steep gully, the trip back was picturesque, passing by the McGregor Ranch and through the changing aspen forests. As ever, Lumpy was a great destination.

Looking down from belay station two.  Photo Credit: Dusty B

Rock-work of protection leading up to the summit.  Photo Credit: Dusty B

Cragging Report - Lumpy Ridge, Left Book

Lumpy Ridge – White Whale

Trip Date: Friday, September 23^rd, 2011

Jake and I at the anchor at pitch two on White Whale

   In this trip, Jake and I cruised up to Rocky Mountain National Park to do a little trad climbing. Rocky is famous for its bountiful crags located in a high mountain setting just minutes from Estes Park. Lumpy Ridge is one such destination.

   Famous for its large granite domes and steep, irregular cracks, Lumpy is a world class climbing destination. Lumpy Ridge is composed of a number of granite features arrayed in ridge-like formation in the northeastern part of the national park. Most climbs face to the south, and get sun throughout the day, making Lumpy a popular year-round climbing destination.

White Whale follows the system of cracks and flakes
leading higher above the two trees to the right

Looking down from the anchor at the top of pitch two

   Jake and I were poised to climb the classic “White Whale” located on the “Left Book” crag. First ascended by Dan Hare and Randy McGregor in 1972[1], White whale is a three-pitch traditional-style rock climb which passes from belay to belay through large flakes and shooting cracks. We wore our soft shoes for this one. In total, the climb is about 450 feet. One can reach this climb by hiking about two miles west on the Black Canyon trail from the Lumpy Ridge parking lot.

   The climbing took us the better part of the day. Conditions were perfect, if a bit sunny, and the views and rock were both sublime. The most difficult pitch was surely the second, which passed for 20 feet through a tiny finger crack some 200 feet above the ground. Despite the exposure, the climbing was of low angle and the handholds were usually good. Surely good memories will bring us back to Lumpy very soon.

Jake pointing further west to "Bookend" crag and "The Pear" 

---

[1] Bernard Gillett, Rocky Mountain National Park: Estes Park Valley: The Climber's Guide(Chaple Hill, NC: Earthbound Sports, 2001), page 94.

Lost Creek Trip Report

Trip Dates: August 17^th, 18^th, 2011

Group Members: Tyler H

Style of Trip: Warm weather, out-and-back, lightweight backpacking

View looking south from Goose Creek Trail

Lost Creek Wilderness…an apt name for a backcountry destination. Characterized by bounding trails, blocky granite formations and pine and aspen forests, Lost creek was to be the site of my latest outdoor trip. The summer season was a good time to try out light weight gear, and it was high time for me to go walking in the mountains.

My Pack Load

My goals for this trip were to go lighter than ever, and to test out some tarp camping. I planned to use a new pack which I had picked up on a recent trip to Canada, called the MEC Klettersack. Others may say it is too small, or that it’s a climbing pack not suitable for longer trips, but I was eager to see just how far I could go with only a small pack to keep me company. I sought to accomplish this by leaving the tent at home and bringing along an MEC Scout tarp for shelter. A simple tarp is much lighter and less bulky than a tent and if properly tied out, can be good in heavy weather too. For a sleeping bag, I would be using a Mont Bell thermal sheet, an ultralight down bag weighing in at a scant 13 ounces. To cook, I would be using an Esbit stove with aluminum foil windscreen in combination with a titanium sierra cup. I usually stick to a canister stove for backpacking, since they are so easy to use and not too heavy. But this time, I needed something even smaller and lighter than before in order for me to cram everything into my pack. I would also be carrying only two liters of water. As I would be travelling with a filter, I would be able to fill up along the way as I needed. Water is one of the heavier items in one’s pack, and by carrying less of it, I will be packing less weight. This would be a virgin run for many of these items and systems in the field, and I was eager to see how things might stack up against more conventional means.  By using some new gear and dropping water weight, I would be able to move more quickly and with greater ease.

Map of my Final Route

My trip began in the early morning on Tuesday the 17^th. I threw my pack into my Isuzu and sped forth from Boulder with a southern bearing. My destination, Lost Creek, lied directly south west of Denver and just north of the Pike National Forest in the South Platte area of the Rockies. This area was lower in elevation than most of my previous outings, and promised to bring new experiences to the table. My hike would begin from the Goose Creek Trailhead, located in the Tarryall Mountains in the south eastern area of the wilderness.

As I drove my way through the forest roads, my trip was almost cut short. After taking a wrong turn, I arrived at Cheesman Reservoir. The roads passing through this location were closed until May of 2012 so that Denver Water could make modifications to their water infrastructure.  While reviewing my maps from my car parked just before a chain-linked gate, a rotund security guard emerged from his watch hut to eye my vehicle. I decided to hail him, figuring he would know the way.

“Excuse me, do you know the way to the Goose Creek Trailhead?” I asked.

                “It’s closed, this whole area is closed until May 2012,” he remarked gesturing to all the land beyond the gate and more. Knowing the futility of this man’s proclamation, I thanked him and decided to discover the trail’s location myself. I knew that the trailhead could be reached from these roads, but I also knew that there must another way.  Undaunted, I headed back up the dirt road to the last turn, and took it. The road wound through the foothills of the Tarryalls. These hills were once forested, but are now bare, scorched by the Hayman fire. Damage from the fire could still be seen all around, amid new growth.

After working my way through the hills, I was able to finally find the trailhead. Silly security man, one cannot presume to ‘close’ wilderness, I thought. I arrived at the trailhead at about 9:30. The air was hot and dry, and the sun beamed down unrelenting from a cloudless sky; Classic Colorado summer weather. It was a bit hotter than I was expecting. Eager to get moving, I applied some dermatone sunscreen, swigged some water and ate a quick bite of trail food, and prepared to get moving. If I was careful to heavily hydrate before hiking, and loaded up on some food, then my passage would be easier while carrying a little less food and water. The Goose Creek Trail began from a highpoint between two mountains, and wound downward into a valley below. Walking through the old burn zone was to walk through a land in flux. Undergrowth and new trees were growing, but it would be many years before the forest was strong again.

The weather cooled a bit as the trail passed from the burn area into the deeper pine forests next to the creek. I would be following this course directly north for about six miles before it wound its way higher into the hills, heading west before curving back south. With such a light load, my pace was quick for one equipped for three days.  The trail bounded forth along the foot of a ridge on the north side of the valley. The terrain was challenging, because the trail wound up and down every hill along the way.

All too soon, my right heal began to ache with a tell-tale hotspot. If I didn’t deal with this soon, a blister would form and that would really throw a wrench into my plans. I administered some basic duct tape first aid and deigned to keep an eye on it. With so much ground to cover, I would need to keep a good pace. Hopefully duct tape would be enough to solve the problem.

I reached the first fork in the trail at around one o’clock. The trail sign pointed to some “historic buildings.” This was the “shaft house” area of the wilderness, where about a hundred years ago, a Colorado company made a failed attempt to set up a reservoir in the valley. Two employee housing buildings could still be seen. I followed a trail up another hill and into a boulder field to see what was left of this “shaft house.” All that remained was a small concrete foundation upon a boulder, and some rusted gear work. It is always interesting to see the works of man deep in the wilderness. Nothing lasts forever.

What Remains at Shaft House

I took the opportunity to pop a squat among the boulders and check on my duct taped ankle. The duct tape had fallen off completely, because my feet were too hot and were sweating.  Despite my early vigor, the blister was getting worse, and I still had about six miles to go in the day, and nearly twenty in the coming days to finish my original plan. I carefully applied some mole skin, which I taped into place with some athletic tape from my med kit. If this didn’t work, I would have to reconsider my goals.

Although it was still early in the day, I needed to keep moving. Leaving the boulder field, I pursued the trail further north and higher up into the valley. Here the terrain grew even steeper and rockier. My moleskin doughnut had also failed to mitigate my worsening blister. With my ankle becoming more of a hindrance, I was forced to consider my position. If I went much further up the trail, I would be working my way into a loop which would inevitably bend back south and meet up with the trailhead. The distance would likely not be able to be covered in a single day, and so if I journeyed further, I would be committed to a three day trip. I thought it might be a good time to find a place to camp and rest. Although I was still a couple miles from my initial target, I deemed it better to take it easy for the afternoon and enjoy the scenery. Fast hiking is hard work.

I decided to make camp off trail, high up on a rocky point, so that I would be able to look over the valley, and away from any running water which may attract mosquitos. I unloaded my pack of food and shelter, and went to work pitching my tarp. I was able to set up a basic arrangement between two trees and some big rocks. My setup would give me shade and modest shelter. I would be alright as long as there were no hurricanes. One disadvantage to the tarp is lack of good bug protection. In the past, I have used my bivy sac, which has the luxury of some bug netting, so that in a swarm I could hang out inside and be safe. But this time, I just brought a head net and hoped for the best. I was able to cook some food atop a rock and look out over the valley. The view from camp was a splendid display of forest and rock. Blocky Granite pinnacles, cliffs and outcroppings rose up out of the forest from all sides. Lost Creek was a large departure from my usual backpacking outings into the high alpine. Well below treeline, the terrain was close and thick, unlike my more familiar sweeping alpine vistas and open tundra. For dinner was a dehydrated backpacker meal of chili macaroni and beef. The esbit stove worked like a charm, bringing a single sierra cup to a rolling boil in just a couple minutes. My lightweight camp went up quick and was just cozy enough. The views were definitely worth taking a few photos.

My Tarp Camp... pretty basic

As night drew closer, the shadows crept into the valley. The valley was deep, but night came, slowly shading each rock and tree in its own time. I spent the evening sipping some bourbon and jotting down some details for the blog. The weather through the night was clear and uneventful. I was tired from my day’s trek and slept with pleasant dreams. The thermal sheet was a little scant, and I would have no doubt slept better with a thicker sleeping bag, but the bag worked good enough for the night.

When morning broke, I climbed up on my rock and fired up the stove again to make some oatmeal and tea. One fuel cube was good enough for two boiling cups of water in only a couple of minutes. Light, efficient and simple, the stove would no doubt be a good tool for other trips.

Deciding that I was unable to care to my blister properly for the next fifteen miles, and unwilling to endure soft tissue damage and possible infection for the sake of a fun-time backpacking outing, I thought it wise to turn this trip into an out-and-back and spend the day hiking back along the Goose Creek Trail to the car. This would also give me the opportunity to explore a few places I had passed over a bit more. I had travelled a distance of about ten miles to camp anyway. Not too shabby.

I ventured a little further up the trail before heading back, so I might have a taste of what lay beyond if I ever decided to return. I had finally found a decent enough solution for my blister: a fancy waterproof Band -aid from my med kit. It was the only thing that would stay on with the heat and movement. I ran into a few other backpackers on my way back. All were burdened with huge packs, with all manner of obscure items clipped on. They must have thought I was only out for the day. I was able to head back to the old buildings and check out some of the area around them. I found a number of excellent camp spots nearby and made plans with myself to return with friends. All in all, the way back was uneventful. The day was hot again, but a bit cloudier this time as I made my way through the forest and back to the burn zone where the trailhead was. I was delighted to see an unfamiliar site upon making my way back to the trailhead: A family was making their way down the trail with a bunch of pack llamas! The family seemed to be doing their best to keep things moving, but the llamas seemed just as intent on grazing. I’ve always wanted to go llama packing, or better yet, goat packing! Always something for next time.

Plans do not always unfold as anticipated, but this isn’t a negative thing. Next time, I will surely include better blister management into my kit. I will also likely go with my BD Spotlight bivy for solo trekking, as it is easier to set up than a tarp, and also gives some bug protection. The tarp will surely find use in future group trips, but its hard to argue with the simplicity of a bivy for light and fast backpacking. My esbit stove worked like a charm, although my butane lighter failed completely… always good to have a backup. I will surely be using synthetic socks for hot weather packing  in the future, they dry out more quickly and are less prone for blistering in those conditions.

Esbit Stove in Action

My Humming Bird Friend Checking out a Guy Line

View from Breakfast

Llama packers at Goose Creek Trailhead

Cragging Report - Boulder Canyon, The Boulderado

Location: The Boulderado Crag, Boulder Canyon

Date of Climbs: July 21^st, 2011

Group Members: Tyler, Jake

Map to Boulderado Crag

            It has been a rainy summer in Boulder. For weeks it has been raining hard every afternoon, making it difficult for climbers to get out later in the day. Jake and I decided to plan on climbing in the morning on Thursday, in order to avoid any fickle weather. Our eyes were set on the Boulderado Crag. This geological playground is located within Boulder Canyon, along with dozens of other crags just a short drive from town. Notable for its moderate traditional route selection, the Boulderado is a good location for practicing your trad or setting top ropes. These routes are just off of the road, making it easy to bail out if nature threatens.

Route A: Idle Hands 5.6
Route B: Mons 5.7
Route C: Q's 5.9+

            We planned to climb a few routes, as we both had the day off and were long on time and short on fun. We arrived at the location at around ten o’clock in the morning. The creek was raging its course, swollen with record snowmelt and runoff. The sky was cloudy, and it seemed that the rain may thwart our plans after all. Unabashed, we set out on the short hike to the rock. After gearing up at the base of the cliff and flaking kinks and coils out of our rope, Jake and I began to feel a slow sprinkle. We decided to wait it out since it was light, and soon, it mercifully drizzled itself out. After the rain, the clouds cleared up and the sun began to shine down upon us and the smooth rock.

The Boulderado features both sport routes and traditional, or trad routes. Sport and trad vary in that sport routes follow a series of bolts driven into the rock, while in trad, one must place protection into the rock for safety, such as cams or stoppers. Although opinions vary, sport routes are generally considered to be more easily proteted, since the route is bolted with hardware laboriously drilled into the rock by some intrepid route setter some time before. Traditional climbing, on the other hand, requires the climber to analyze the features of the rock and place temporary protection within cracks or constrictions in the rock, so that he may make his ascent in safety.

Metolius Master Cam #3 in action!

The plan was for Jake to belay me up a route called “Idle Hands,” a 5.6. Upon reaching to bolt anchors, I would clip in and set up an anchor using locking carabineers and slings so that we could set up a top-rope. Jake and I would then climb up one or two more times before pulling the rope and moving on. We made it through two trad routes, “Idle Hands,” “Mons” a 5.4, and a spicy sport route called “Q’s,” after the famous restaurant rated at 5.9+. Idle Hands and Mons ascended the left side of the cliff, following cracks and jugs up the rock at about 70°. These routes topped out at a shared bolt anchor about 80 feet from the belay. Q’s was further down the wall on an 85° southwest face, and proved more stout. It worked its way left and right up through cracks and tiny ledges to the bolt anchors some 70 feet above.

We decided to pack up after these routes. All in all, it was yet another great day in Boulder Canyon. 

Jake and I post cragging

Me leading up Idle Hands

View of Q's from below

Jake, headed for the crux on Q's, toproped

Me rappelling back down to earth on Q's =)

Mummy Range Fairchild Loop Trip Report

This post is coming a little late, but it is quite comprehensive.

Trip Dates: June 7^th, 8^th, 9^th 2011

Team Members: Tyler Hislop, Tobin C, Dusty B

            For a while now, I had an itch that needed scratching. Despite all the ice climbing and skiing of the past winter, I had yet to make it out for a good multi-day trip in solid backcountry conditions. Now that the weather was warming up, it was time to get out and explore some of the delicious terrain nearby. Rocky Mountain National Park had been calling my name.

 Tobin and I had explored some of this terrain in advance of the trip. We had both tromped around the Park, but were eager to see something new. We settled on the Mummy Range in the northwestern reaches of the Park. With record snow fall remaining from the past winter, conditions promised to be snowy and wet. Our plan was to take three days. On day one, we would begin hiking at the Lawn Lake trailhead and head north along Roaring River, and up into Black Canyon to the Lawn Lake campground. Beneath Mummy Mountain to the north, this is where we would make our first camp. On day two, we would ascend to “The Saddle,” between Fairchild Mountain and Hagues peak, at which point, we would ascend the south-eastern aspect of Fairchild’s snowy upper slopes and make for the summit. From the top, we would consider snow conditions, and seek a clear route to descent Fairchild by glissading down its north facing slopes. Our descent would take us to the Fay Lakes, beneath Ypsilon Mountain. From here, we would bushwhack southward, seeking Ypsilon, and Chipmunk Lakes. This is where our second camp would be located. On our final day, we would pick up the trail near Chipmunk Lake, and descend from the high mountains and snows back to Roaring River, where we could make our way back south to Lawn Lake Trailhead.

We began our trip on Tuesday, June 7^th. The team left Boulder at about 6:30 am, so that we would be able to reach to RMNP backcountry office right after it opened to get our backcountry permit. A favorable weather report showed sunny skies with slim chances of thunder storms. After travel and preparation, we were ready to leave Lawn Lake Trailhead at about 8:30. Not a perfect alpine start, but with only about six miles to travel, we would arrive at our first camp on solid snow with daylight to spare. The weather forecast proved accurate, and we were blessed with clear skies and warm weather. We set out along the switchbacks leading into the canyon where Roaring River flows. Invigorated by thoughts of the journey to come, we made quick time despite our heavy packs. As our trail ascended the canyon, dry trail gave way to patchy snow. Although we hiked ice axe in hand, we carried on without donning our snowshoes for some time, favoring the quick pace of our boot-pack. 

Some ways up the trail, we met a fellow hiker named Matt, who was travelling to the Park from Virginia. We passed each other a couple times, until we decided to travel together, since we were headed to the same camp. The higher we went, the more snow there was. We also saw raging creeks of snowmelt rushing through the thick frozen snow crust. Despite the record snowpack, the summer heat had set the high alpine into full melt. The decision was finally made to put on our snowshoes at about 10,000 feet, when the snow became too deep to travel by boot alone.  Under the shining sun, we continued on over radiant snow to near tree line near the mouth of the canyon. Although our map showed a ranger patrol cabin, we didn’t see any sign of one. It was either gone, or buried deep in snow. Lawn Lake was still shrouded in ice when we arrived, and despite the warming weather, the campsites remained in winter conditions. Together with Matt, we found a shady clearing in the pines, and set to work building our camp. We had all decided that simple bivouac sacs were sufficient for the trip, but Tobin had also brought an ultralight sil-nylon tarp so that we could set up some shelter from sun or rain. Winter gear was heavy, and a bivy sac was just the thing to lighten the load.

Tobin, setting the tarp for our snow shelter

 Taking turns, we dug in a few feet with a single shovel which we brought for the group, and guyed the tarp between a few trees to pitch our modest shelter. With camp dug out, we set to melting snow for drinking water and eating lunch by the scenic lake below our camp. Matt joined us too. He was planning on doing some fly fishing in a fissure in the lake’s ice.

On the slopes of Mummy Mountain, above Lawn Lake - Photo Credit: Tobin C

Later, we practiced glissading and self-arresting on the slopes below Mummy Mountain to hone our skills for the snow climb to come. 

The discovery was made that space blankets were quite hydrophobic and make exceptional one-time-use sleds! We returned to camp exhausted from our day’s exertion, and melted more snow for dinner: Indian food with flatbread. Park regulations mandate that backpackers must pack all their food along in a heavy and awkward bear keg, but the weight seemed well worth it when we sat down to eat. 

With the sun dipping below the surrounding peaks, we decided to zip up in our sleeping bags and turn in early. The night was clear and cold, promising hard snow for tomorrow’s ascent. The longest hike of the trip was behind us, and tomorrow, we would have to trek upward. 

Dusty and I high on Fairchild's slopes
Photo Credit: Tobin C

The camp awoke before dawn, at five on our second day. Our goals were to break camp, eat a quick breakfast, and get moving before the sun reached the snow, so that we would be able to move swiftly over the hardened snow. Our group began to feel the ill effects of altitude as we climbed the slopes below the saddle. With each movement, our pace slowed a touch, and our packs felt slightly heavier. Snowshoes would remain on our packs for the rest of the climb, heavy but necessary for later. For now, we attached our crampons and prepared ourselves for the ascent, axes in hand.  The pace was quick to the saddle, and we now had to make for Fairchild’s snow-clad north-east facing slopes. Two snowfields extended above us to the summit: a lower pitch of about 400 feet, and an extended steep upper pitch which stretched beyond a dry rock band to the summit 1000 feet above. The weather was clear in all directions as we ascended the slopes to the summit. Slowly gaining altitutde, we kept steady without complaint. Soon the zenith of our trip would be reached, the Fairchild summit at 13,502 feet.

We reached the rocky summit about three hours after leaving camp where a small rockwall was built at the highest point as a windbreak for mountain climbers. Small clouds could be seen swelling in the distance, a byproduct of daytime heating. As the terrain warms throughout the day, snow begins to melt and water evaporates into the atmosphere creating ever larger clouds until storms break loose. These are Colorado’s famous afternoon thunderstorms. A droll brown cloud could also be seen resting in the plains, a byproduct of summer fires raging in Arizona. A bracing wind howled from the south, so we layered up and found shelter behind  the wind-block of rock. We dropped our packs and set out along Fairchild’s ridge, which extended to the south-east, to determine the safest path for our decent. Fairchild’s lower cirque dropped sharply below us to give way to more snow more than a thousand feet below. Cornices from winter’s snow curled imposing above the cirque’s couloirs, waiting to drop like icy bombs upon unwary climbers. A few photos were snapped at the summit, one of me hoisting the bear keg above my head triumphantly. In the interest of expedience, we packed up and began to descend down a shallow gully on Fairchild’s south-facing aspect. The snow was a little too soft to glissade the whole way, but we got in a few good slides before plotting our course further from the valley floor. Like the playgrounds of giants, mountains make wonderful slides, if you are willing to climb up.

The base of the gully dipped back below tree line, and we would have to bushwhack to find our next camp near Chipmunk Lake, which was called “Upper Chipmunk”. We again strapped on our snowshoes and broke trail along a stream. We thought it would lead us to Ypsilon Lake and eventually to our campsite, but were mistaken and descended too far. The map needed to be referenced when we reached a confluence of streams at about 10,000 feet. This area was too low for our camp, which was at about 10,700 feet, and too wet and steep to set up an alternate camp. A group decision was made to hike back up through the forest and attempt to find the lakes above. The snow was now softening considerably, and travel was slow-going.

Mighty Ypsilon Mountain

We trekked for another hour through the pines and streams until we finally found Ypsilon Lake, which was just below our camp. The lake, was fed by runoff draining from Mt. Ypsilon’s alpine slopes to the west and rested below a steep granite face to the north. Ypsilon’s craggy peak could be seen looming above the cirque, with clouds gathering and greying upon its slopes. The lake’s waters flowed despite the early season, narrowing into the rushing streams below us. One more slope to climb, and we could again make camp and dinner. Another, smaller body of water lay within the trees above, which fed into Ypsilon. As we wandered through the trees, the only sign of camp we saw was a red arrowhead nailed to a tree right above the snow. There was no trail to be found, but we had found our spot for the night. Tobin and Dusty dug a camp between trees again, and I decided to try and dig a basic bivy shelter in the snow, which I would top with a space blanket. 

I had seen this shelter, called a “doghouse” in a mountaineering book, and was eager to put it to the test. It was composed of a four foot trench with a hole dug into the end where one could place their feet: basic, but good enough. 

Tobin lounging after the day's hike

Again we made our dinner of Indian food and attempted to dry our gear in the dying light. Clouds had blanketed the sky since our decent and hung ominous. After eating, we relaxed in the snow upon our sleeping pads, and watched the sunset light the mountains and clouds with brilliant colors. As the sun crested behind Ypsilon, its rays stretched through the gathering clouds. The clouds writhed like dervishes bathed in pink and golden light, a sight seen by only us. Exhausted, we soon we turned in for the night. A thunderstorm passed over us, and I was forced to zip up my bivy sac against the ensuing rain and hail. Despite the weather, we all managed to stay dry through the night. Still, we knew that night time cloud cover meant that snow would be soft the next day for our descent back to the trailhead. The bulk of our journey was complete, and it was all downhill from here.

On day three, dawn broke free from the cloudy night, and the mountains were bathed in golden morning sunshine. We decided to break camp and try to dry some of our gear in the sun before setting out to blaze trail once again. Our plan was to descend southeast down the Ypsilon Lake trail. Before packing away, we used our remaining fuel to boil some water for tea and oatmeal. With our bellies warm and our spirits light, we set out. The snowshoes went on straight out of camp this time, to stay afloat on the soft snow. Our path followed a ridge which led further into the valley to the south east, back down to Roaring River. Since no trail was visible beneath the snow, we again had to make use of our route finding skills. Taking turns in the lead, we followed our ridge through the snowy pines for about two miles before the snow began to recede. Our pace was swift despite the sloppy snow. Although we had been in the mountains for days and camped in winter conditions, our packs were now lighter and the team was strong. Once we were below 10,000 feet, the trail was seen at last. The snowline was above us, and our route finding had proved more successful than yesterday’s. We happily removed our snowshoes and gaiters a final time to make our final descent.

 A warm breeze and clear air greeted us as we made our way back down into the canyon to the river. We crossed a wooden bridge to some rocks so that we could wash the journey’s grime from our faces in the river. Rapid snowmelt meant that waters were flowing high and frigid. We took a moment to eat a quick lunch and reapply some sunscreen for the final hike out. Although we had lost altitude, we were still in the high mountains and susceptible to sun burn. As we made our way down the dry trail, a couple passed us on their way to Ypsilon Lake. They asked us about conditions. We exchanged glances at each other, and at their footwear. We recounted our experience of snowy, trailless conditions, but were careful to mention the serene beauty of the high alpine lake, if they were determined to make it. But, we knew that with their light summer footwear, they would be miserable long before they reached Ypsilon’s placid shores.

The team traversed the final switchbacks out of the hills and into the parking lot, making plans to allay our appetites at Oskar Blues in Lyons for a burger and beer. Upon reaching the car, we saw that Matt had left us a canister of fuel on the tailgate as gesture of good will. Packs were dropped gratefully into the car. We couldn’t help but be overcome with feelings of fulfillment and accomplishment from our journey. We were happy to head home, as the car sped along the park’s roads, but we knew that we knew that soon we would be called back to the high alpine for yet another adventure, where we could put Matt’s fuel can to use.

Some final photos:

Tobin, doing some grooming after the hike

Dusty and I - Photo Credit: Tobin C

View of Fairchild and Ypsilon from the road