This is the story of 4 climbers, 2 Saturns, 3 crashpads, 1 REALLY big tarp, 1000 bad drivers, and 3000 miles of road, and how they all came together on our great adventure.
Preface
Jim, Rachel, Kayte, and myself had been thinking about a big 2 week vacation out to Colorado for several months before we finally got some firm plans together. Back in the late fall of 1998, it appeared that Kayte and Rachel would both have their summers completely free and were planning to spend a large portion of it on the road climbing in different places. We had decided that while Jim and I both had to work, we would squeeze 2 weeks off and the four of us would have a big adventure in the climbing mecca of Colorado.
Well, as time progressed, it became necessary for Kayte to back out of the trip, so the three of us were left with decision time. We could a) find another partner, b) climb in a three-some (problematic at best), or c) can the trip completely. Well, choice C was not even an option as far as we were concerned, so about 7 or 8 weeks before our planned departure, I called Gary to ask him if he wanted to join us. It must have been divine intervention, since Gary was already planning to do "something" during that same time period, but he didn't know what. He was on board. COOL.
The grand plan was that all of us wanted to do a little bit of everything. All four of us are avid boulderers at home, but enjoy getting out on the "big stuff" when the opportunities arise. We wanted to do some bouldering, some trad climbing, some hiking, and maybe a cool alpine route or two. None of us had ever been to the area before for the sole purpose of climbing so we started doing lots of research.
About 2 weeks before our planned departure date things started to really come together. We had a big "planning" session over at the office, and poured through guide books, the atlas, and put about 6000 miles on my mouse surfing the internet. We decided on specific places we wanted to hit: Boulder at Horsetooth Reservoir and Flagstaff, do some trad at Lumpy Ridge and possibly Eldorado Canyon, and we all wanted to do a big-time route on Longs Peak. The only thing that we decide that we definitely want to do is "Keiner's Route" on Longs. It's a true alpine route...but wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. We talked about the possibility of also heading to Vedawoo in Wyoming on the way "out of town" or something, and finally assembled the "hit list".
Transportation issues were easily solved. Rachel and I had both purchased near identical Saturns back in October of 98 and we figured we would both drive. A single 4 door sedan just doesn't have the space for 4 people and all of their camping and climbing gear... "Team Saturn" was born. Of course, leave it to me to put a wrinkle in the logistical issues. It turned out that my family was having a birthday party - turned family reunion in Milwaukee, WI the weekend before we were scheduled to leave. I would be back in Cleveland, OH at my sister's house on Tuesday August 3rd. So Jim, Rachel, and Gary were going to drive up to Cleveland on Tuesday night and we'd hit the road Wednesday morning.
Thursday, July 29
I'm totally stoked. Tomorrow is my last day of work for 2.5 weeks. The longest time I've ever been away from my business, but I can't wait. Gary and I meet to pack the Saturn as I will be driving it to Cleveland, then him, Jim, and Rachel will be meeting me. We get everything spread out, and devise a plan. We have to somehow get 2 (yes 2!) Cordless crash pads, a cooler, plus all the rest of the stuff in my car, and HOPEFULLY still see out the back window. WOW, 2 pads take up a LOT of room, but we eventually figure out the system that will serve us well for the duration of the trip. Our assortment of gear is truly staggering and reflects the diversity of our agenda. Everything from crash pads, to ice axes, to trad gear, to "car camping" stuff. Everything we'd need for 2 weeks on the road, and almost any form of climbing. (Yes, we even had some sport climbing draws and a Gri-Gri). We finish packing, and leaf through the guide books providing us with ample "mind-candy" to last us the long drive.
Friday, July 30
Curt (my business partner) is a little worried about me not being around for a long time, but I eventually cruise from work and head home. My car is almost completely packed, and I assemble the last few essentials: CD player, CD's, and a LARGE supply of reading material for the trip. I meet my dad (we are both driving to Cleveland) for dinner, and finally hit the road. For me, the grand adventure has officially started. WAHOO.
Tuesday, August 2
Heather (my sister), my dad and I arrive back at my sister's house around 2 PM and my dad immediately heads back home to Buffalo. Jim, Gary, and Rachel finally pull into my sister's house around 10 PM, and we set the alarm for 5:00 AM... YIKES. We all just crash out in the family room.
Wednesday, August 3
WOAH, it is seriosly early. We all stumble into the cars and get everything set for our first REAL day. We have about 750 miles to cover and we can't wait to get started. We finally leave Cleveland around 5:30 after gassing up. We head south out of Cleveland, and pick up I-70 which will take us all the way into Denver Colorado, about 1300 miles away. The driving is pretty uneventful except for the endless construction and IDIOT drivers. We come to the conclusion that there are large colonies of "yutzes" spread throughout the country - and we are slowly but surely going through everyone of them. I think Jim puts it best: "If driving is so easy, how come everyone SUCKS at it except me?". We had actually planned ahead (a rare event on most climbing trips), and had made reservations at Nob Noster State Park (yes, it's really called that) in Missouri and we arrive without incident. We haven't really stocked up on food yet, so we raid Jim and Rachel's 'food pantry' and brew up some great pasta. While Rachel and I start dinner Gary and Jim play around on the swing set seeing who can break their leg first. We all hit the sack, and keep the alarm set for 5 AM eastern time (we are already in Central) to get a jump start in the morning.
Thursday, August 4
Team Saturn rides again... this time through Missouri, Kansas and finally into the desolate country of eastern Colorado. We drive through some serious thunderstorms, and then, through absolute impeccable planning, arrive in Denver promptly at the start of rush hour. We couldn't have planned it any better.
We do battle with the traffic, and finally make our way north to the suburb of Loveland which is where we've decided to call our "home-base". It seems pretty central between Fort Collins and Estes Park which is where we are planning to do most of our climbing. We've also made reservations at Boyd Lake State Park. We arrive and promptly setup the tents worrying about the very black clouds looming in the distance. The rain stays away for the time being, and we head over to the supermarket about 5 minutes from the campground. We load up with groceries, hoping not to have to make a daily trip to the market (yeah, right) and also head over to a "Wal-Mart" style place and pick up a gigantic 12'x20' blue tarp... We wanted something half-way substantial to be able to hunker down underneath if it rains. The "Blue Thing" is born, as we use Jim's 2 trekking poles, the bubba brush, and massive quantities of guy lines and stakes to raise up the big new tarp. IT ROCKS.
The Blue Thing at Boyd Lake State Park
Friday, August 5
We decide to be a little decadent and sleep kind of late in the morning, and finally head into the Fort Collins. The plan is to pick up at least a good bouldering guidebook, then head up to Horsetooth. While we are getting ready, we realize that we have a slight "crampon crisis". Jim owns 2 pairs of flexible crampons, and a pair of rigids. I only own a pair of rigids, which would not work on my leather boots, so I had planned on using a pair of Jim's flexibles. Rachel was going to use the other pair, and Gary was going to borrow a pair of rigids (which would work on his boots), and Jim would use his rigids. Well, apparently, this was not the scenario, as we had arrived in Colorado with only 3 sets of crampons for 4 people. DOH. SOOOO, a pair of strap-on flexible crampons was also added to the shopping list.
We arrive in Ft. Collins, and immediately head into the REI store there. I pick up an awesome guide for bouldering in all of Colorado, but no flexi crampons. We decide to try someplace else later, and head up to Horsetooth - armed with our newly acquired guidebook. We park at Rotary Park and find a nice boulder to warm up on, trying not to notice the impending weather clouds.
Jim, Me, and Rachel at Horsetooth Res.
We stop by a coffee shop so the caffeine junkies can get their fix and waiting for the ice cappuccinos when this local dude wanders into the shop. "You know what they call Abraham Lincoln in Japan?" he asks. "ahhh...no" says Rachel. "Abraham Rincon" he responds. "You know what my name is?... Abraham Rincon, nice to meet you". He proceeds to regale us with stories about his name-sake as we hurry to try and escape. I forget about my beverage order and we make a quick exit back into the square.
The rain finally stops and we head back up to the Reservoir. Gary is really psyched to jump on the John Gill Ultra-Mega-Super-Classic: Pinch Overhang (V5). We all head down to the Mental Block and eye up the infamous problem. You start with your right hand on the classic pinch up way high, and nothing really for the left. You jump for the top and then do the absolutely heinous looking mantel to finish it. Oh yeah, there are like 4 body eating talus boulders underneath the whole thing. So Jim and I spread the pads, Rachel grabs the camera, and Gary eyes the holds. I look down, then up, and.. WOAH - Gary's already at the top sloper, he nailed the pinch dyno first try. Now he's hanging on to this sloper, both feet dangling, flapping in the breeze like a loose corner of the "blue thing", frantically trying to figure out the mantel. I spot, Jim shuffles the pads, and Rachel chews up film. Gary moves right, finds something, and finally does the big mantel and tops it out. WOW, impressive climbing. Gary is stoked to have on-sighted this epic problem.
Gary on the Standard problem on the Mental Block
Gary and Jim revise the Blue Thing with the new poles from the surplus store, while Rachel and I start brewing up dinner: Chicken and Veggie Shish-ka-bobs, Birds nest pasta, and saut?ed onions and zucchini. The first of what will become a long string of amazing camp dinners. We don't even care about desert, that's how full we are.
Saturday, August 6
All of us are not sure how our tips got so fried after just a single day of bouldering... must be the altitude, yeah, that's it. Over breakfeast, we decide to go on a "hike" to help our bodies acclimate for what we hope will be a alpine ascent of Longs Peak later in the week. Neither Jim or Rachel had spent any real time hiking, climbing, or skiing above 7000 feet, so we wanted to make sure that everyone would handle the altitude OK. We pour over the guidebooks again, and finally decide to try to summit Mt. Lady Washington. This is a 13,000 ft peak which sits right beside Longs Peak. This would not only get us acclimated, but allow us to scope out the "scene" at Longs, and get our first real glimpse of the gigantic Diamond face.
We finally pile into the car, and head up the canyon into Estes Park, arriving at the trailhead at about 11:00 AM. We are astounded by the number of cars lined up on the road, and how FAR the end of the line is from the main trailhead. We drive up the road, and drop off Jim and Rachel and our light daypacks, and Gary and I head back downhill to find a spot to park the Saturn. "Hey!, You can fit in there!" Gary says.. "In there???" I say. "Yeah, no problem." OK, I decide to give it a whirl and somehow manage to recall the days of drivers ed and actually parrallel park in a spot between a roadsign and a huge van. The spot is about 6 inches longer than my car. No lie... BUT it saves us about a 1 mile hike up the road just to hit the trailhead. COOL.
We start cruising up the well traveled path which leads not only to Mt. Lady Washington, but also up Longs Peak as well. The hike is fun, but not very difficult compared to some trails in the Adirondaks back home. We all notice the altitude a little, but it's far from overwhelming... we all feel good. We cruise up through tree-line and onto Mills Moraine and get our first real glimpse of the awesome Diamond. We soon forget about our objective for the day, and decide to hike up to Chasm lake which is directly under the Diamond face. We won't get as high, but the face draws us all in, like fish on line.
The Diamond face from treeline on Longs Peak
The Diamond face from Chasm Lake
After piling back into the car, Gary and Jim both assess the serious damage to their heels from their boots. Both have major blisters on both feet. The do some mild "foot-care" on the drive back to camp, stopping at the grocery store AGAIN for some needed supplies. The trip to the store turns out to be time well spent as we feast on Faijitas made with spanish rice, beans, chicken, the usual fixings plus Gary's own addition he called "The Little Bastard" - a VERY potent, fresh, jalapeno pepper. It's probably close to the hottest thing I've ever eaten. We finish up dinner, and relax with our books, and finally hit the sleeping bags.
Sunday, August 7
After breakfeast, we make plans to head down to Boulder to sample some more of the local bouldering scene. After the nice drive along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, we stumble into Boulder, once again on the search for the elusive set of flexible crampons. We stop by the Boulder Mountaineer, and are pretty disappointed at their selection, so we head into the center of town - a cross between a tourist trap, and a yuppie convention. We all have a blast people watching as we continue the search. On our way to another army surplus shop we are all super impressed by this travelling minstral who is playing like 8 instruments, and singing. His tall "Dr. Seuss" fleece hit is appropriately filled with cash.
The surplus store pays off! Gary and I both pick up sets of used flexible crampons for a bargain price, and we finally head off the boulders of Flagstaff Mountain. The bouldering is a lot different than home (layout wise), but the rock and problems are great. We jump on some great stuff on "Cloudshadow" and start working on some cool lines, only to be greated once again by the "typical" afternoon thunder-storms. We hide under some overhangs, and the showers pass us by and we continue to pump out.
We move on and decide to track down the "Red Wall". Gary jumped on something in the vacinity, and Jim is pretty much cooked - his blisters are really starting to hurt. Rachel and I jump on some quality lines on the Red Wall, and thrash till the our tips burn. We finally head back to Loveland and the Blue Thing. Tonight we do a relatively "simple" meal of Veggie burgers, augraton potatoes, and sauteed zuchini and onions. We once again revel in our mastery of the eats.
Monday, August 8
Morning dawns once again, and Gary and I both have the itch to bust out the rack and do some trad climbing. We pour over the guide books debating whether to head up to lumpy ridge or Eldorado Canyon. We finally decide on Lumpy and pile into the trusty Saturn and steer it back up the Canyon to Estes Park.
We arrive at Estes just as it starts to rain. Just our luck... but these must be the typical thunderstorms. We head up to the parking lot, and decide to wait it out for while. These too shall pass.. Well, they don't, and it starts raining in sheets and all we can do is sit in the car and admire the view. It looks like today is our first real official rain day. No climbing will be going on anywhere in the near vacinity.
Lumpy Ridge during encased by rain and clouds.
Tuesday, August 9
We decide to try again for Lumpy Ridge, as our roped climbing quota has yet to be met, so we're off again to Estes Park. The drive up through the canyon is almost getting to be auto-pilot material, but it's still fun to see how fast I can take the twisty road. We finally pull back into the Lumpy parking lot, and decide to head out to the formation called Lens Rock. The approach hike is about 1 mile, but there are a good concentration of moderate routes there - it looks like a good place to be.
The weather takes a turn for the worse just as we get to Lens Rock, but like Sunday, we just wait out the showers, then quickly rack up. Jim starts to grovel his way up the offwidth first pitch of a route called "Arch Crack", and I start leading up the single pitch moderate called "Tennis Shoe Tango". This route starts in a weird off-width flare, but then moves up through some great friction moves, to a really nice hand and fist crack. About 100 feet out from the belay, I get a great knee-cam inside the crack, and use the no-hands rest to place some bomber gear in the crack. Then.... "Uh oh... hey Rachel, I think my knee is stuck!". The pain of my knee moving around until it finally pops out is really hard to describe, but I'm sure it's something like getting your knee squeezed together in a bench vise. Yeah, something along those lines. I shake off the "knee incident" and finish off the pitch, wishing for about 3 more #2 Camelots.
The result of the "knee" incident.
We hike out in the rain, and pile into the Saturn and point it back down the canyon towards Loveland. We decide to eat out that evening instead of fighting with the stove under the Blue Thing in full bore storm conditions, so we finally decide on The Cactus Grill. A great little mexican place that had good prices, and even better food. We kill some more time playing a few rounds of pool, then finally head back to camp. We put the Blue Thing in "storm mode" and all crash out under it on the pads catching up on some reading material. Gary, as usual, decides to provide us with a little entertainment after the rain stopped, and rolled himself up inside his Cordless crash pad. Jim and I had fun pushing him around and knocking him over. All you could see was his head sticking out the top, and his 2 feet sticking out the bottom...never have I seen such a helpless target. Great fun.
After some reading, we all sort through the mountains of gear as we now have to switch from rock mode to alpine mode. The warm weather, ice axes, and crampons are all unearthed from the mountains of gear in Rachel's car. Gary and I sift through the rack, and come up with a seriously "alpine" rack. This is, after all, going to be carried up a LONG trail. "Gee, Pete... I can't help but notice the 'sveltness' of your rack" Jim says. "Yep, I don't want to carry ANY extra junk up that mountian" I respond. We finally get everything sorted out and crash out.
Wednesday, August 10
The alarm goes off at 6:30AM and we all roll out and finish up the packing. We have to pick up our backcountry permit no later than 10:00 AM or else we loose it. The backcountry office is just outside of Estes Park, so we need to make sure we get moving. Everything goes pretty smooth, and we find the backcountry office around 9:30 or so. The NPS Ranger gets all the info from us, and it's a humbling experience. I'm sure it's part of their job to make sure that the people getting permits (especially climbers) have enough knowledge and experience not to get themselves into serious trouble. The friendly guy gets all the info from us: Emergency telephone numbers, colors of our helmets, colors of our ropes, what's our ascent route, what's our descent route, etc.. All of this info goes into the computer and onto our permit. This place is obviously a well oiled machine.
Jim is still very nervous about his heel blisters, and his general health which has been degrading really ever since we left Cleveland a week ago. He has expressed concerns over the last couple of days that the possibility exists that he might not be able to climb with us. We all decided that he would at least plan on doing the climb, pack everything in, and see how he felt the morning of the climb. So, all four of us arrive at the base of Longs Peak, and get a slightly worse parking spot than before, but not horrible. Our loads are pretty huge, but nothing crazy. Of course, next to "Joe Tour-on", they are truly staggering by comparison. That's fine with us, we don't mind having gigantic packs, and STILL hiking faster than a lot of the folks plodding up the herd path.
We come out above treeline around mid-day and are greeted by the type of winds that you only ever experience in the mountains. Staying upright and in-balance with our packs requires serious concentration, but we eventually make it up to Mills Morrain. It's nice that we've been here before, as we don't have to hesitate to find our trail and orient ourselves. We take a break at the "privy" and Jim tends to his blisters. We push on towards the bivy spot above Chasm Lake and eventually make it there at around 3:00 PM. We finally hit unfamiliar territory as we hike on the talus around Chasm Lake and reach an obvious bivy cave that has served many climbers. It's really more of a large overhang, but there are 2 stone walls that completely enclose the whole thing and really turn it into a cave. The regulations on bivy locations up in this protected area are very tight, and we're not sure if this is really a legal place to be. Then the climbing ranger cruises by and informs us that we've got the best bivy spot in the area. We start unpacking :)
Rachel and I pull out our pads and milk the amazing sunshine while Gary goes off exploring the talus field and the snow field above. Jim pulls out his sleeping bag and dives in - not exactly the best sign that things are well inside of him. Gary and I pump water for some dinner just as the sun goes down and it starts to snow. Yes snow.. go back and check the date, I KNOW you want to. We are grateful for the cave since tents are forbidden up this high (they produce too much impact on the ecosystem) and the winds outside our cave only prove to us that we are really up at 11,800 ft on a very large mountain. We all brew up some freeze dried dinner and hit the sack. The alarm gets set for a staggering 4:00 AM. Welcome to alpine climbing.
The bivy cave high on Longs Peak
Gary's room in the cave
The big day... The whole enchilada is in front of us. This is what we came for. Unfortunately, Jim is not going to be joining us for the climb. He decides to hike down due to a combination of his health and his feet. He is really bummed, but it is the right decision - albeit a very difficult one to make in his position. So, Rachel, Gary and I gear up for the climb in a party of three.
We are finally, dressed, fed, packed and ready to go by around 5:45 AM. We part ways with Jim as we head up and he heads down. We all are carrying smaller climbing packs, and we leave our bivy gear in the cave. Basically this consists of packs, sleeping pads, and our sleeping bags. The plan is to do Keiner's route, which ascends up Lambs Slide (a hanging snowfield) up from Mills Glacier for about 800 feet. Then we cross the slide, and switch into rock mode. We traverse right across a large ledge system which cuts the massive diamond face in half to a small hanging snowfield we had nick-named "the pants". From The Pants, we ascend some 5th class rock pitches to gain the upper reaches of the left side of the Diamond. The route then follows the left edge of the Diamond all the way to the apex of the Diamond face, just under the summit. The route moves right around the apex, then up some finish slabs to the summit. Once on top, we had been told that the normal descent is via the hikers trail back down through the "key hole". This trail would loop us around the opposite side of the mountain, eventually putting us back down at Mills Morraine. From here, we would cruise back to the bivy site, pick up our remaining gear and head back down to the car. We were hoping to be back at the car someplace between 8:00 PM and 10:00 PM.
We finally get moving and head up the extremely loose talus slope under Mills Glacier. It's somewhat like trying to climb up a hill of ball bearings. A dicey proposition at bes, but we arrive on the Glacier without incident and are greated with a breath-taking view of true alpen-glow. This is the affect of the rising or falling sun when it casts a unique red glow onto massive rock walls. The low hanging clouds obstruct the high half of the Diamond face, but the entire lower half is lit up a deep red - orange color. We all scramble for the camera as we know this effect won't last long. We snap some photos, but also realize that no camera can truly capture this beauty.
Alpen Glow low on the Diamond
Gary underneath Lamb's Slide
We strap on the crampons and get into full bore snow and ice mode. I take the first pitch and we climb fast up through the good stiff snow on Lambs slide. We stick close to the left side (farthest away from the Diamond face) since it's got the best snow. The right side is filled with hard ice, but we realize that we will eventually have to cross over to that side to get onto the Broadway ledge system. Gary and I leap-frog leads and we each lead 2 pitches of unprotected snow climbing up the Slide. On the fifth pitch, I lead out and try to cross over to the other side of the slide. Our entire ice climbing arsenal consists of 3 ice screws. Of course, we are also in alpine mode, so we have alpine ice axes (not ice tools) and I'm wearing lether boots and my army surplus crampons. Not exactly the equipment I'm used to using on technical ice back home. Well, I lead out right and start cruising up a "tongue" of snow that is just left of the really hard ice patches. I cruise up this and quickly use up my 3 ice screws. I stop climbing when I get stuck in a position about 20 or 30 feet up from my last screw. Rachel has already started climbing behind me, so my belay is essentially off. "Ummm... Gary... I don't think I can climb up or down". I yell over to him about 200 feet away. "Uh oh". Yeah. Exactly. The problem is that I'm still at least 100 feet from safety, and I don't feel comfortable doing those moves with the equipment I have with no chance of protection. However, I devise a plan.
Gary (who is tied into Rachel) leads up the left side of the snowfield until he runs out of rope. This turns out to be about level with me, but about 80 feet to my left. Rachel then climbs up towards me, removing the screws I had placed as protection, while being belayed by Gary. After cleaning the last screw, she takes a huge swing left and climbs up to Gary. Gary finally puts me on belay for the first time in what seems like an eternity, and I also do the King Swing back to the safety of the left side of the snowfield. We had extracated ourselves from a potentially serious situation, but HAD consumed a lot of time doing it.
Gary leads off up the left side farther until there is a safe way to get to the other side of the snow field. He runs out of rope before he hits the right side however, so Rachel starts climbing behind him while I belay Rachel. Gary gets across, and sets a hasty belay to bring Rachel over, and I start climbing behind her (since our ropes are too short to reach completely across the slide). I clean Gary's first ice screw, feeling kind of un-easy on the strange crampons and flexible leather boots. My footing doesn't seem to be as solid as it was before, but I continue anyways. Rachel is still getting situated on the right side of the slide when I realize why I'm having foot problems. The rear part of my right crampon had become detached from my boot!! The situation is not great, since I'm still not on belay yet. I yell to Gary that I need to get on belay so I can use the rope for support and fix my crampon. He doesn't understand me and tells me to keep climbing to the next ice screw. I somehow manage to gut it out, and finally make it to the next screw, where Gary has enough rope to finally get me back on belay. I weight the rope, and make a hasty fix to my crampon, then clean the screw, and scramble the reamining distance to the right side of the slide.
"That must have been a bad cramp" Gary says. "Cramp!! My crampon fell OFF MY BOOT" I tell him. He realizes that he didn't hear me right and is relieved nothing happened. We make some more belays and finally reach the rock band and the left end of the Broadway ledge system. FINALLY we can stow the crampons in the packs.
The initial "rock-climbing" section of the route really consists of VERY exposed hiking along a VERY narrow trail across the ledge system. Some parts of the trail were only a few inches from the edge which disappeared down half of the gigantic Diamond face. To move quickly, we "short-roped" this entire section, with me leading off placing gear every so often to protect us. Using this method, all 3 of us were moving at the same time, and we managed to cover the entire 800 foot traverse in about 50 minutes. Great time. We stoped to re-rack all the gear once, and before we know it we are climbing up next to the bottom of The Pants.
We stop and regroup and down some food we've brought. PB and pitas, some water, and some energy bars. Gary switches from his boots into his climbing shoes (MAN are they cold) and quickly leads up the first of 3 rock pitches. Rachel and I quickly follow, and Gary dispatches another pitch. We both join him, and I lead up the final pitch of blocky climbing which puts us out onto the left side of the Diamond proper. The views down into the valley are absolutely amazing. The weather has held out for us for the first time on our entire trip. There are some high clouds, but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. The time however, was really starting to become a major factor. By the time we finished the rock pitches it was nearing 4 PM already - a time which I had hoped we would already be on the summit. We had already passed however, the proverbial "point of no return". The shortest way out of the situation was up and over the top.
Yesterday, when I signed us into the trail register, we all noticed a sign saying that someone had lost an entire pack high up on Keiner's and wanted anyone to bring it down. As I belayed Rachel and Gary up the last rock pitch, I noticed the Dana Designs pack about 200 feet above us. We felt that we were still on route, and assumed that something had led these guys to abandon a pack for some reason. They were obviously off route, and we didn't have the time to take a tangent and go fetch it. Not to mention none of us wanted to carry the thing up and back down this monster.
The route from here follows near the edge of the Diamond face over pretty easy, but blocky terrain. We once again shifted back into short rope mode, with me in the lead and Gary picking up the end. We covered ground at a good pace, but we were all noticing the significant effects of altitude. We were obviously above 13,000 ft by now, and were definitely sucking some serious wind. We had gotten some beta about the upper stretches of the route, and I was looking for what everyone calls "The Steps". These things are hard to miss. They are a series of high blocky ledges that lead to the apex of the Diamond. We did some cool mantels to gain the tops of these blocks, and we were all glad we still had the climbing shoes on. They provided the extra bit of confidence we needed.
Me in full climbing mode somewhere high on the route
Moving around the apex of the Diamond, and looking down over 2000 feet of sheer rock wall to Mills glacier under us was a unique experience to say the least. We couldn't waste time however, and we finally mounted the final steps up to the summit. It was 7 PM. Wow, are we late.
We quickly coiled the ropes and switched back into the boots for the descent down. After all the packs were packed, we found the trail leading back down to the Key Hole. "Is that it??" Asked Gary incredulusly. "Must be, it's the only trail here!" I say. But we are both staring down a trail that would best described as a 3rd class rock climb down about 1000 feet of open, exposed rock slabs, talus boulders, and loose gravel. Something none of us are looking forward to after 12 1/2 hours of continous climbing. Nonetheless it's the only way down, so off we go.
Me and my crocked hat on the summit of Longs Peak
The sun is falling faster than we are climbing down this mountain, so the race is on. We are moving as fast as we can safely trying to get the worst of the descent done before we loose daylight. We finally move toward the shoulder where the keyhole is and marvel at the exposure. We really can't imagine that so many non-climber tourists make it up this. It's a place where a wrong foot, or one mis-step could mean a fall of several hundred feet down rock slabs to a grim future.
The "Keyhole" is a feature in one of Longs' shoulders. This is a notch which allows hikers to pass from one side of the mountain to the other. It also allows the winds to pass from one side to the other and does so at mind boggling speeds. There is a constant "whir" as we approach it, and as we pass through, the gusts are staggering. We take refuge in the little stone hut which is built just below the keyhole, and we take few minutes to re-hydrate and bust out the headlamps. I check the watch and it shows 9 PM as darkness chasses away the last remaing rays of light. We are all feeling seriously exhausted by now, but are glad the worst is over. I try to munch on a energy bar, but, according to Gary, turn several shades of green as my insides protest. I stash the reaming piece back in my pack.
Gary takes "point" as we shoulder the packs and continue the descent in the dark. We are now in a full bore talus field and Gary is picking out cairns via his headlamp that show the way through the field of rocks. We finally find our way to the bivy site that most hikers use called simply "The Boulderfield" and breathe a huge sigh of relief. From here the trail is pretty easy to follow, so we can relax a little.
Time wears on for hours as we continue to trudge down and around the mountain. I can remember almost every step, hoping that the familiar sight of Mills Morraine would be around the next corner. Constantly getting denied when we'd round a corner just to see more trail ahead. We hike in silence, each to their own thoughts. My pack feels like it gets heavier every half hour, but we persevere. Finally, we come down a short hill and I see the silhoette of the privy off in the distance. Mills Morraine. We take a break, and discuss our situation. I'm feeling more exhausted then I've ever felt and my breathing still hasn't returned to a normal pace since before we summited - about 5 hours ago. I'm concerned about my condition and my ability to make it back up to Chasm Lake to grab the bivy gear. Rachel says she's still feeling ok, and decides that she will bring my stuff back down. I'll stay with the climbing packs and Gary and Rachel take off for the bivy cave. Oh it's about 12:30 AM.
I settle in for the long wait as Gary and Rachel's headlamps bob off into the distance. I alternate between hiding out from the wind in the privy and hiding behind rocks for a long time. Eventually my breathing returns to normal, but I'm axious about Gary and Rachel. Finally they return with the packs at 3:20 AM. They got lost coming down from Chasm Lake and had to double back to the trail a few times before finally getting their bearings. Another disaster averted. Gary is spent, so Rachel and I repack the packs and sort through everything while Gary grabs a powernap. We finally head down the mountain just as the first few hikers are coming up to ascend via the keyhole. It's a strange feeling passing so many people. Wondering what they must be thinking, seeing us, but not knowing our story.
Our only remaing worry at this point was Jim. He has been waiting for us down in the parking lot, and we were sure he was worried sick. By now we were several hours over-due, and he had nothing to do but wait and worry. His thoughts were our primary force driving us down hill. Of course beside the draw of our pads and sleeping bags.
Alpen Glow low on the Diamond
Gary underneath Lamb's Slide
Gary (who is tied into Rachel) leads up the left side of the snowfield until he runs out of rope. This turns out to be about level with me, but about 80 feet to my left. Rachel then climbs up towards me, removing the screws I had placed as protection, while being belayed by Gary. After cleaning the last screw, she takes a huge swing left and climbs up to Gary. Gary finally puts me on belay for the first time in what seems like an eternity, and I also do the King Swing back to the safety of the left side of the snowfield. We had extracated ourselves from a potentially serious situation, but HAD consumed a lot of time doing it.
Gary leads off up the left side farther until there is a safe way to get to the other side of the snow field. He runs out of rope before he hits the right side however, so Rachel starts climbing behind him while I belay Rachel. Gary gets across, and sets a hasty belay to bring Rachel over, and I start climbing behind her (since our ropes are too short to reach completely across the slide). I clean Gary's first ice screw, feeling kind of un-easy on the strange crampons and flexible leather boots. My footing doesn't seem to be as solid as it was before, but I continue anyways. Rachel is still getting situated on the right side of the slide when I realize why I'm having foot problems. The rear part of my right crampon had become detached from my boot!! The situation is not great, since I'm still not on belay yet. I yell to Gary that I need to get on belay so I can use the rope for support and fix my crampon. He doesn't understand me and tells me to keep climbing to the next ice screw. I somehow manage to gut it out, and finally make it to the next screw, where Gary has enough rope to finally get me back on belay. I weight the rope, and make a hasty fix to my crampon, then clean the screw, and scramble the reamining distance to the right side of the slide.
"That must have been a bad cramp" Gary says. "Cramp!! My crampon fell OFF MY BOOT" I tell him. He realizes that he didn't hear me right and is relieved nothing happened. We make some more belays and finally reach the rock band and the left end of the Broadway ledge system. FINALLY we can stow the crampons in the packs.
The initial "rock-climbing" section of the route really consists of VERY exposed hiking along a VERY narrow trail across the ledge system. Some parts of the trail were only a few inches from the edge which disappeared down half of the gigantic Diamond face. To move quickly, we "short-roped" this entire section, with me leading off placing gear every so often to protect us. Using this method, all 3 of us were moving at the same time, and we managed to cover the entire 800 foot traverse in about 50 minutes. Great time. We stoped to re-rack all the gear once, and before we know it we are climbing up next to the bottom of The Pants.
We stop and regroup and down some food we've brought. PB and pitas, some water, and some energy bars. Gary switches from his boots into his climbing shoes (MAN are they cold) and quickly leads up the first of 3 rock pitches. Rachel and I quickly follow, and Gary dispatches another pitch. We both join him, and I lead up the final pitch of blocky climbing which puts us out onto the left side of the Diamond proper. The views down into the valley are absolutely amazing. The weather has held out for us for the first time on our entire trip. There are some high clouds, but the sky is blue and the sun is shining. The time however, was really starting to become a major factor. By the time we finished the rock pitches it was nearing 4 PM already - a time which I had hoped we would already be on the summit. We had already passed however, the proverbial "point of no return". The shortest way out of the situation was up and over the top.
Yesterday, when I signed us into the trail register, we all noticed a sign saying that someone had lost an entire pack high up on Keiner's and wanted anyone to bring it down. As I belayed Rachel and Gary up the last rock pitch, I noticed the Dana Designs pack about 200 feet above us. We felt that we were still on route, and assumed that something had led these guys to abandon a pack for some reason. They were obviously off route, and we didn't have the time to take a tangent and go fetch it. Not to mention none of us wanted to carry the thing up and back down this monster.
The route from here follows near the edge of the Diamond face over pretty easy, but blocky terrain. We once again shifted back into short rope mode, with me in the lead and Gary picking up the end. We covered ground at a good pace, but we were all noticing the significant effects of altitude. We were obviously above 13,000 ft by now, and were definitely sucking some serious wind. We had gotten some beta about the upper stretches of the route, and I was looking for what everyone calls "The Steps". These things are hard to miss. They are a series of high blocky ledges that lead to the apex of the Diamond. We did some cool mantels to gain the tops of these blocks, and we were all glad we still had the climbing shoes on. They provided the extra bit of confidence we needed.
Me in full climbing mode somewhere high on the route
We quickly coiled the ropes and switched back into the boots for the descent down. After all the packs were packed, we found the trail leading back down to the Key Hole. "Is that it??" Asked Gary incredulusly. "Must be, it's the only trail here!" I say. But we are both staring down a trail that would best described as a 3rd class rock climb down about 1000 feet of open, exposed rock slabs, talus boulders, and loose gravel. Something none of us are looking forward to after 12 1/2 hours of continous climbing. Nonetheless it's the only way down, so off we go.
Me and my crocked hat on the summit of Longs Peak
The "Keyhole" is a feature in one of Longs' shoulders. This is a notch which allows hikers to pass from one side of the mountain to the other. It also allows the winds to pass from one side to the other and does so at mind boggling speeds. There is a constant "whir" as we approach it, and as we pass through, the gusts are staggering. We take refuge in the little stone hut which is built just below the keyhole, and we take few minutes to re-hydrate and bust out the headlamps. I check the watch and it shows 9 PM as darkness chasses away the last remaing rays of light. We are all feeling seriously exhausted by now, but are glad the worst is over. I try to munch on a energy bar, but, according to Gary, turn several shades of green as my insides protest. I stash the reaming piece back in my pack.
Gary takes "point" as we shoulder the packs and continue the descent in the dark. We are now in a full bore talus field and Gary is picking out cairns via his headlamp that show the way through the field of rocks. We finally find our way to the bivy site that most hikers use called simply "The Boulderfield" and breathe a huge sigh of relief. From here the trail is pretty easy to follow, so we can relax a little.
Time wears on for hours as we continue to trudge down and around the mountain. I can remember almost every step, hoping that the familiar sight of Mills Morraine would be around the next corner. Constantly getting denied when we'd round a corner just to see more trail ahead. We hike in silence, each to their own thoughts. My pack feels like it gets heavier every half hour, but we persevere. Finally, we come down a short hill and I see the silhoette of the privy off in the distance. Mills Morraine. We take a break, and discuss our situation. I'm feeling more exhausted then I've ever felt and my breathing still hasn't returned to a normal pace since before we summited - about 5 hours ago. I'm concerned about my condition and my ability to make it back up to Chasm Lake to grab the bivy gear. Rachel says she's still feeling ok, and decides that she will bring my stuff back down. I'll stay with the climbing packs and Gary and Rachel take off for the bivy cave. Oh it's about 12:30 AM.
I settle in for the long wait as Gary and Rachel's headlamps bob off into the distance. I alternate between hiding out from the wind in the privy and hiding behind rocks for a long time. Eventually my breathing returns to normal, but I'm axious about Gary and Rachel. Finally they return with the packs at 3:20 AM. They got lost coming down from Chasm Lake and had to double back to the trail a few times before finally getting their bearings. Another disaster averted. Gary is spent, so Rachel and I repack the packs and sort through everything while Gary grabs a powernap. We finally head down the mountain just as the first few hikers are coming up to ascend via the keyhole. It's a strange feeling passing so many people. Wondering what they must be thinking, seeing us, but not knowing our story.
Our only remaing worry at this point was Jim. He has been waiting for us down in the parking lot, and we were sure he was worried sick. By now we were several hours over-due, and he had nothing to do but wait and worry. His thoughts were our primary force driving us down hill. Of course beside the draw of our pads and sleeping bags.
Jim writes:
so its here that i feel i need to tell part of MY story while they were on Keiners.
It is an EXTEREMY windy morning. As i hike out of the cirque at chasm lake there is a small rise i need to hike up and over, and then down the other side. I reach the top i am almost immediately knocked over backwards by the force of the wind and my top heavy pack. As i lay there like a turtle on its shell, trying to right myself i see Gary Rachel and Pete making their way across the chasm to the base of lamb's slide. That is the last time i see them for what turns out to be a LONG time. They figure they will be back at the trail head in 15 hours or so.
The rest of the hike back to the parking lot is long, tiring and generally uneventful. Its early and there are hardly any hikers on the trail yet. The parking lot also seems to have cleared out and i hike down the half mile or so (that feels much farther than is probably is) to the car. I dump my gear in the back and cruise back up to the main lot, parking in the best spot in the lot, right at the trail head, and sit down to wait the 9 or so hours until they are due back at the car. I pass the time napping, thumbing thru guide books and magazines that are in the car, and occasionally chatting with the rangers stationed in a cabin near the parking area.
I am expecting them around 8pm. As the clock starts to tick toward 9:00 i hike up the trail a bit to meet them on he way back down. I am impatient, but not worried. I see a couple of guys who are CLEARLY climbers. the coils of rope on their packs are a dead give-away. I start up a conversation and learn they were on "The Casual Route". At 5.10a this is the easiest route on the diamond face. I ask if they saw my crew an they mention they saw them somewhere on the route but dont remember when or where...oh well...at least i know they got on the route OK.
As night really begins to fall i start to get a bit concerned. A little while later I head over to the ranger station to have a chat. A friendly enough female ranger says: "They climbed Kiener's today!?!? Oh my God WHY?!? Its so windy!" great. thanks for putting my mind at ease. She then procedes to tell me about some poor soul who fell to his death recently on "the catwalk", a section of thier descent route, in conditions similar to today. Great again. thank you so much. your people skills are outstanding.
I go back to the car and stew in my own concerns and fears. I fear for my friends, for my future wife. I imagine driving home alone. I imagine telling friends and family about the tragic fate that fell upon them. I find myself close to tears as i think about all the horrible posibilities. They are now more than 6 hours over due.
I try to seep but am unable, so i walk around the trailhead complex in the dark...hoping they will be coming down the trail at any moment. Another friendly ranger aproaches me and i tell him my story. He can tell i'm having a rough time. He tells me about the descent they have chosen...how its VERY log. A better choice would have been to repel the "cables route". He assures me that they are fine but probably too exhausted to hike back down, and suggests that we will hike up to the bivy spot in the morning and bring them breakfast. THANK YOU. finally something that helps put my mind at ease. I stroll back to the car feeling better but still concerned. A small piece of me still sure something terrible has happened. I manage to fall asleep in the car...
Sometime in the wee hours of the morning i am awakened by the car door opening. i look over while rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Its Gary. I am struck by a wave of relief that brings tears to my eyes.
"Im sure glad to see you..." is all i can manage to say.
He thanks me for getting a sweet parking spot, and tells me that Rachel and Pete are just a couple minutes behind and suggests i start the car and get it warmed up. They are all exhausted and hungry. Very hungry. While the car is warming up i write a note to the rangers, just to let them know they all made it out safe and we are heading out. I pin it to the door of their cabin and get back to the car just as Rachel and Pete arrive. WHEW....i feel so much better than i did a few hours ago. They are nearly 10 1/2 hours overdue.
As we head down the mountain and make our way to the nearest Perkins, they tell me the story of their 25 hour epic...
Rachel's headlamp batteries had long since died, so we share the light from mine, and put our bodies on full auto-pilot and steer down hill. Gary is slightly faster and eventually moves out ahead of us. We are all amazingly tired and have very little tolerance for hikers that don't give us the right of way, even though we have massive amounts of inertia propelling us down hill. We are forced to wait for the herds to pass, but finally break out into wider trails and make good time. We reach the parking lot at 5:30 AM, Friday morning. We've been up and moving for 25 1/2 hours. Wow, we are exhausted.
Jim had of course been waiting for us, and had thoughtfully moved the car into a prime parking position in the lot. To say he was relieved to see us would be HUGE understatement. We feverishly pack the car, and head out. Jim drives back into Loveland and I don't remember one minute of it. We stop at Perkins and refuel before heading back to camp at about 6:30.
Friday, August 12
The sun kicks us all of the tents wayyyy before we are ready to get up, so we all end up crashing out under the Blue Thing on crash pads and getting some more sleep. We chow on some breakfeast, and declare the inevitable. Today is definitely a rest day. We decide to cruise over to the beach at the park since it's blistering hot outside. We have fun for about 20 minutes in "kiddie heaven" and then bail from the beach. I call my cousin Michelle at work to tell her that we are all alive and well, and she invites us over for another dip in the hot tub tonight. We accept, of course.
We kick back into cooking mode, and make a run to the super-market and pick up some raw materials for our feast that night: Monster salads with everything imaginable, followed by Real GIANT backed potatoes with cheese and vegetarian chili on top. HMMMMM. After dinner, we grab our suits and over to Michelle's and adjurn to the luxuriousness of the hottub. We couldn't have dreamed of a better way to sooth all of our sore muscles and joints.
Saturday, August 13
I'm still pretty tired and spent from the Longs adventure, but Gary is psyched to climb so we convince Jim to head up to Veadawoo Wyoming to climb on the really cool, unique formations there. Rachel thankfully takes on the driving task so I get to read on the 1 1/2 hour drive. We arrive to find some of the classics taken, but Gary has his eye on the Mega Classic crack climb MRC Direct. I had done this route a couple of years ago with Pete C. and got to lead the crux pitch (thanks Pete), so I told Gary I'd follow him up anything today. I wasn't sure I was up for leading anything serious though.
We scrambled to the base, and donned the "tape gloves" necessary for getting down and dirty in the fist cracks that abound here. Without the gloves, the crystals in the rock would eat our skin for lunch. Gary launches up the first pitch of strenous pure crack mode and gets to the chains and I follow. I don't remember this pitch being so serious! The second pitch, though, is the real business. Gary leads up from the belay to the stance under an imposing roof that you move out with the help of a dihedral corner. From here, you are super exposed, and you have to really bust out the moves to pull the lip and get into the safety of the twin crack systems above. Gary laces the moves up with pro, and sends the crux moves. After gaining the belay, I follow and I'm glad I didn't decide to lead this thing today. I get up to the belay and Gary's grin goes from one ear lobe to the other. This is exactly why he wanted to come here today. Amazing crack climbing on amazing rock. We definitely 'aint in Buffalo anymore!
To descend from MRC, we have to gain the summit of a formation directly next to us, and Gary once again leads off and makes the bizzare moves that you have to do to get "inside" this big crack. I go to follow, but I'm concerned about the big moves he pulled. Gary has about 4 or 5 inches on my length, but I finally commit to the big "jump" to gain the foot holds. In the blink of an eye, I'm falling. Either my hand slipped, or my balance got off for a second, either way, I'm now wedged inside this giant crack with my feet slightly higher than my head. I somehow manage to right myself and grovel to the summit anchors. We all have a good laugh, and we rap without incident back to the base.
We meet Jim and Rachel at a location I've never climbed at before, and I decide to lead the easy crack that Jim just did and both Gary and I have a blast. It's a great way to end our last climbing day. We all wander back to the car and bask in that unique post-great-climbing feeling. What an awesome day. We head back to camp, cook up some speghetti and roast some garlic bread over the stove for dinner. Yet another camp kitchen triumph. We finally start packing everything up and cleaning the campsite. Team Saturn rides again in the morning.
