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I climbed my seventh and eighth 14ers today — giving me six in a three-day period — but when I think back on this hike, they will be but a footnote. The highlight, the main event, was climbing the ridge between Bierstadt and Sawtooth, a crest that when viewed from the west especially, looks exactly like a sawtooth.
For many experienced Colorado hikers, the Sawtooth probably is just another walk in the park. For me, it was my first experience with “Class 3” terrain, and doing it alone made it even more exciting or nerve-racking (it was both at times).
Prior to the hike, I had done my research. I had printed out the 14ers.com route, which laid out step by step the best way to traverse the approximately 1-mile ridge. I had also read a few trip reports on the website, and the people who wrote them said the ridge wasn’t too bad and that the narrow ledges looked worse in pictures than reality.
I was prepared.
After a long but fairly mellow 3.5-mile ascent up Bierstadt (14,060 ft) from Guanella Pass, I readied myself mentally for the challenge. Ever since I stepped out of my rental Camero and saw the ridge in plain sight, it was basically all I thought about.
The Sawtooth.
After a brief snack and some pictures on top of Bierstadt, I began the descent down toward the saddle between the peaks, following the cairned route to the east of the highest part of the ridge. The first half hour of the hike was simply a difficult descent down rocks, sand and scree. If I slipped, I wouldn’t have fallen hundreds of feet. Down to my right lay beautiful, sparkling Abyss Lake. It looked more appetizing than the ‘tooth. I tried not to let my mind wander.
Focus. Focus.
As I neared the saddle, I gradually made my way to the west and the top of the ridge. Before me stood a huge gendarme — or tall steeple of rocks. Following the directions, I found the skinny path that sloped around the gendarme to my right. I then reached the based of a gully, where I began my steepest climbing of the route. Utilizing handholds and carefully plotting each step, I made my way up toward the ridge, then hooked another right, following cairns, before finally emerging on the sawtooth.
It was time for the ledges.
I sat down for a minute, ate a couple bites of my sunbutter sandwich and slurped some water. I needed energy and renewed focus on the ledges. Then I stood up, and hugging the right side of the two-foot-wide path, slowly made my way above the sawtooth and underneath the towering rocks above me to the northeast.
How dangerous was this? Well, I really would have had to slip in the wrong direction or take a really bad step. But if either had happened, there’s a decent chance I would have fallen hundreds of feet. I’ve been on some exposed ledges before, but this was the narrowest, most nerve-racking yet.
After maybe 50 yards, the path widened out, but didn’t become sturdier. What I worried about most were the sand and loose rocks. It’s easy to walk on rock slabs or packed-down dirt. This, though, was the kind of stuff you could easily slip on.
And this is when I made my navigational gaffe. Ahead of me lay a fairly steep dirt and loose rock ledge. I thought it might be the route, but I couldn’t locate a cairn on it. On the other hand, looking to my right — to the southeast and up from the sawtooth — I saw a cairn and mistakingly thought that was the trail. I scrambled and climbed my way up some 30 feet and then slowly walked along a ledge above the ledges I had just navigated. I thought I was getting somewhere.
At that moment, two other hikers — clearly more experienced on Class 3 terrain — came around the corner on the ledges. I watched as they navigated the loose rock and dirt with ease and started up the wide ledge that I had bypassed because of the lack of cairns.
Crap!, I thought.
To be honest, the Sawtooth to that moment had been difficult, but not beyond my expectations. I had handled the climbing and the ledges without a problem or complete confidence in myself. Going down from my wayward climb was the scariest part of an hour and 45 minutes since departing Bierstadt’s safe summit. For a minute, I found myself stuck on a ledge topped with loose rocks, wondering how I would get down from it and over to where I should have been all along.
But as I’d done all hike — and have become much better at with each solo trek I attempt — I reasessed, found a better route, and just a minute later was easily climbing up the correct ledge, reaching the easy talus rocks, and then gaining the summit.
I was exhausted. Delirious. Thirsty. I had made a difficult hike even more difficult, but done just fine with no scares. I am usually good at navigating, but had made a could-have-been costly mental error (the route description had clearly said to “continue north toward the top of the ledge,” yet I had somehow gone east then south!).
From there, the hike over rocks along Evans’ west ridge was anticlimatic. It was far from easy rock-hopping, but after Sawtooth, I felt stronger taking on this Class 2 ridge scrambling. On top of Evans (14,264 ft), I chatted with two of the three guys who had also done Sawtooth. They hadn’t broken a sweat, probably because they had done winter hikes on Colorado’s most dangerous, avalanche-prone peaks. They’re climbers. I’m a hiker with a little climbing experience. I have no aspirations of becoming a rock climber, but I surely think I can handle more Class 3 terrain like Sawtooth — which I’ll need to do if I’m to conquer all of the state’s 54 14ers (only 46 to go!)
The hike back to Guanella Pass was long and difficult. After retracing my route just east of Sawtooth, I cut off to the northwest and descended through a large field of grass and boulders until I reached the top of a gully that would take me down to the north of the Bierstadt trail I went up in the morning.
The reason for this route? There was no way I was taking on Sawtooth again!
The gully was steep, and it required careful footing, but there was an established trail. At its base, I was in a bog, and on one step, my right boot was fully submerged in mud. Nice! But I was able to stay on the trail, for the most part, through willows and more mud, and eventually connected with the Bierstadt Trail, as the route said would happen.
After soaking my feet in the creek — at less than 12,000 feet, it wasn’t nearly as cold as my experience at about 12,200 feet the day before and I was able to keep the feet in for over a minute — I returned to the parking lot after 8 hours.
MILES HIKED: 10.25 miles
PEAKS: Mt. Bierstadt (14,060), Mt. Evans (14,264), The Sawtooth (13,780)
9.5.12 — Decalibron, CO
Today I took on my fourth and fifth 14ers, plus a 14er in Cameron that, well, isn't an official 14er but is taller than many of them. It was my fourth day since flying in from the flatland of DC and my second consecutive day hiking 14ers — I had done Quandary the previous day — so I was curious how I would handle the loop, which I would finish off on the shoulder of Bross since the summit is closed to the public.
I was also anxious as to how my rental Camero would handle the road to the Kite Lake trailhead. As it turned out, the low-clearance vehicle made it within 0.25 miles of the trailhead. I proceeded up the road.
I reached the main parking lot around 7:20am. It was frigid outside, but also beautiful as the sunlight reflected off the nearby peaks. The hike up to the Democrat-Cameron saddle wasn't too long or difficult, but I still found myself resting frequently to catch my breath. After about a mile, the sun eclipsed the Bross ridge and I was able to take off some layers.
I gained the ridge in less than an hour and headed up what I knew would be my toughest ascent of the day — Democrat.
The ascent was slow going over the talus, but not too difficult. On a couple occasions, I looked around to make sure I was on the trail. I was. I caught up with a gentleman, who said he was from Providence, RI, was 70, and had flown in the previous day. If that wasn't motivation, I was helpless. I reached the top of the steep climb, passed a pair of descending hikers, and emerged onto a plateau (aka, false summit), from which I had a clear view of the nearby summit.
Minutes later, I was on top of Democrat at 9am, a fairly quick first summit gained.
I waited for the Providence hiker, and a few others behind him, then chatted briefly about how brilliant the day was, got my photo snapped (No. 4!) and then headed back to the saddle. Before heading up Cameron, I stripped down to my shorts and polypro, as it was warm out. When I passed a couple of guys, they thought I was crazy. But I like hiking with few layers. It helps me feel less cumbersome.
Well, when I took the ridge up Cameron, as part of the very legitimate, have-to-earn-it ascent, the wind started blowing, harder and harder, and when I finally gained the flat summit, I was FREEZING! The top of Cameron was pretty unique, as it's like a table top, but it also makes for a windswept zone. I didn't stay long, especially with the picturesque twin peaks of Lincoln just ahead. It was only about 10:30.
The hike from Cameron to Lincoln is short and enjoyable — an easy descent, some walking on flat gravel the color of hot sauce, and a short ascent up a spiral staircase followed by a skinny — but not at all scary — ridge. A few maneuvers later, I was on top of No. 5!
It was a tad after 11am
The ridge hike over to Bross was easy and uneventful. It was mostly flat and on a packed-down, gravelly surface that wasn't difficult to navigate. The color of the rocks — bright orange — made it beautiful, and I found myself constantly looking back toward the alluring Lincoln and the seemingly tranquil Cameron. Democrat, in the distance, looked even larger and steeper than when I hiked it!
I heeded the advice of the two hikers in front of me and ignored the “No Public Access” sign to ascend Bross (No. 6!). The ascent was fairly easy, and the summit was flat and bland. I enjoyed conversing with the couple and then I headed back down to the designated trail, which was pretty tricky for its majority. Descending steeply over scree, gravel and dirt, I had to switch to careful hiking mode, and even then, I slipped a few times in descending the gully back to Kite Lake.
Just a couple hundred feet from the bottom, I stopped to soak my feet in a stream just above a small waterfall. I couldn't keep them in the water for more than 30 seconds. FRIGID! The air temperature, on the other hand, was hot — and getting hotter — and the sky remained a completely clear blue. Talk about a perfect day for such a hike!
I finished around 1:40pm, a little over 6 hours after I started. I highly recommend the Decalibron!
Today I hiked my first 14er of the season, Quandary Peak (14,265 feet). It was my third full day in Colorado and just my second hike, so the acclimation process to the altitude was much quicker than during my first visit to the state last year. After hiking up to Pawnee Pass (12,555 ft) on Monday, I felt I was ready to start on the 14ers.
Having booked a hotel for Tuesday and Wednesday, my plan was to do three days of 14ers hiking starting with Quandary.
After a drive of a little over two hours that was absolutely beautiful because of the surrounding mountains and cliffs, I reached the trailhead just off Route 9 at 9am. It was a bit of a late start for a 14er, but the sky was crystal clear and the hike wasn’t too long. I wasn’t too worried, but was anxious to get on the trail.
The Quandary climb along its east ridge can best be described as one long, steady, plodding walk. After about a half mile in pine trees, I emerged onto a rocky trail and could see what I thought was the summit a LONG way from me. I plodded on. For the entire hike, I stole views at an alluring ridge across a valley to the south and the pointy summits of a couple of mountains beyond it. I’m pretty sure those summits belonged to my targets for the following day’s hike — Mt. Bross, Mt. Democrat and Mt. Lincoln.
As I continued up, there, just to the side of the trail, was a pair of white-as-snow mountain goats! I had never confronted the alpine animals before, so I wasn’t positive how to proceed, but they didn’t seem agitated the least by my presence. I snapped a couple pictures and continued on. As I would see an hour later, their friends — including a couple babies — were farther up the trail, again just a few feet from where people were hiking, and I took photos of them, too. What a sight!
Besides the mountains goats, the climb was pretty straightforward. As I got within about a mile of the summit, the grade increased and I had to stop for a few seconds frequently to catch my breath. I’m just not used to this kind of altitude! I clearly wasn’t the only flat-lander doing the hike — probably one of the easier 14ers — as I noticed several other people with their hands on knees and one dude, decked out in U-M regalia, who I later learned was from Chicago, sitting on a rock looking like death (note: he did make it to the summit).
After ascending the steep pitch, I reached a flat area and saw the marked summit just a few hundred feet in front of me. I completed the 3.4-mile ascent with 3,450 feet of elevation gain in just over two hours. On top, I signed my name on the list secured in the capsule tethered to a rock, had my photo snapped to document 14er No. 3, ate a delicious sunbutter sandwich, then headed back down.
I drove back to Frisco, checked into the Snowshoe Motel, took a little tour of the cute town right on the Dillon Reservoir, and refreshed my body in the hotel’s hot tub (which had its own private room; so cool)!
Another day, another 14er. No biggie.
Today was my first hike of this Colorado visit, and since it was Labor Day and he had work off, Eliot joined me as we headed to the beautiful Indian Peaks Wilderness. As we gained elevation on the drive to Brainard Lake, I was curious how I would deal with the altitude. I had only been in Colorado for a day and a half and hadn’t done anything active. On Saturday night, Eliot and I drove to south Denver to meet up with some friends and watch Michigan get spanked by Alabama. We stayed the night in the area and then met up with Kevin — whom I hadn’t seen in probably nine years — on Sunday for an offensive inning of the Rockies game and more drinking.
So to summarize, my first day and a half in Colorado was spent sitting around watching sports and consuming alcohol. Not exactly the best way to prepare for hiking at extreme altitude. On the plus side, I considered myself to be in very good shape, thanks in large part to the personal training sessions at my gym in D.C.
We were one of hundreds of people who had the same idea for a Labor Day hike. When we arrived at the recreation area, dozens and dozens of cars were already parked along the road. The hike started at 10,515 feet, and right away I could feel the altitude in my rubbery legs. I wasn’t about to fall or anything, but there’s no denying that it was affecting me. Going from 5,000 to 10,000 feet just like that can’t be easy for any flat-lander like myself.
But as we hiked the fairly level, mostly wooded trail alongside Long Lake, I began to acclimate and gain strength. It was an easy 2 miles to Lake Isabelle, the popular destination for most of the day’s hikers. The lake was extremely low, as we could tell from the sandy banks that appeared were used to being part of the body of water. Still, that didn’t take away from the beauty of the scenery. The jagged, piercing summits of the Indian Peaks rose up and towered all around the lake. The wind gusted at around 20 mph.
It was around noon, which is far from early when it comes to hiking in Colorado because of the afternoon thunderstorms that often arrive out of nowhere, especially during the summer. So the decision to continue 2.5 miles to Pawnee Pass wasn’t a no-brainer. From my standpoint, I didn’t feel like I’d exerted a lot of energy getting to Lake Isabelle, which just required 400 feet of elevation gain, and I wanted to gain more elevation in preparation for my 14ers trip beginning the next day. We decided to start up toward the Pass, with the expectation that we might not get all the way there.
As we started up the trail, we felt a couple drops of rain and a nebulous cloud settled overhead. If it had gotten any darker or if the rain had pounded us any harder, we would have turned around. Fortunately, however, the rain stopped and the sky brightened. We marched onward.
The going was a mix of gradual and steep, and we soon emerged from the thin treeline into the open, climbing switchbacks up a rock-strewn landscape. Peaks towered above us as we hiked. I was surprised that the altitude didn’t affect me more, like it had at the beginning of our hike.
After about 90 minutes of climbing, we reached Pawnee Pass on the Continental Divide at 12,555 feet. Out in the open, with nothing to block the wind, we were blown around as gusts of up to 40mph hit us. I quickly layered up in my fleece, pants and winter hat. It was COLD! It was also beautiful. We continued a couple hundred feet beyond the Divide and were rewarded with a whole new slew of mountains to gaze at to the West. We took it all in, snapped a few photos while making sure our cameras weren’t blown away, then headed back down the trail.
MILES HIKED: 9.1
PEAKS: None, but the high point was Pawnee Pass (12,555 feet)
DOGS SEEN: Approximately 63 of varying breeds
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