Revisiting Mt. Elbert in Colorado--and Actually Reaching the Summit This Time.....

Colorado
Date: Friday, August 27, 2010
Peak: Mt. Elbert
Height: 14,440 feet
Vertical Climb: 4850 feet
Round-trip Mileage: 11.5 miles
Peak Class: #6
Height Rank: #3 of 50
Difficulty Rank: #9 of 50

(A video panoramic shot from the top of Colorado and the highest point in the Rocky Mountains)

Devin and I flew to Denver on August 27 and drove west and south through Leadville to Twin Lakes and checked into the Mt. Elbert Lodge—about 4 ½ miles west of the small town of Twin Lakes. We arrived in early afternoon and wanted to acclimate as much as possible before the ascent the next day, so we drove back to the Twin Lakes Campground and found the dirt 4-wheel drive road up to the upper trailhead. We had a Dodge SUV that was all-wheel drive so we decided to take it as far as we felt comfortable and then look around and get our bearings.

BASECAMP

(Devin and I in the Twin Lakes area the evening before our ascent)

(Mt. Elbert Lodge was originally a stagecoach stop during the mining days. It made a wonderful basecamp for the climb.)

Although not a true 4-wheel drive, the vehicle did pretty well but about one mile up we felt we had gone as far as was safely possible and parked and did some walking up the old road. We found another spot a little further up and Devin marked it on his GPS system. On the way back we had some problems getting out of our parking spot and, at one point, Devin was driving on only three wheels. It wasn’t an all-terrain vehicle, but it did ok. There was one spot coming back down, though, where the vehicle was literally sliding down the road on the loose rocks.

(One of the better sections of the 4-wheel drive road--Devin did an admirable job with the all-wheel drive vehicle. Not too bad for a flatlander.)

(Three wheels on the ground and one in the air: The two-mile dirt road was in terrible shape but we made it about half-way up which cut two miles round-trip off our hike)

(An apocalyptic message carved into one of the aspen trees. Mt. Elbert was tough, but not that bad!)

We returned to Twin Lakes and got some food to go at the Windspirit Café and returned to the lodge and ate outside on the back porch with a babbling stream beneath us and a beautiful mountain stream in front of us and a granite wall of mountain literally rising above us from the stream banks. This is one of the most beautiful spots I’ve ever seen in Colorado (I would change my mind the next day from the summit of Mt. Elbert). The weather had been beautiful and was supposed to hold for our ascent day.

After walking around a bit, we went to bed early. I went to sleep ok but woke up at 2:15 and never went back to sleep—making me tired when we set off that morning. It got down to 41 degrees that morning and we slept with two windows open but the quilts on the beds kept us warm. The Mt. Elbert Lodge is a bed and breakfast but they put out a “hikers breakfast” the night before for us so we ate a light breakfast before taking off around 5:15 am.

(Mt. Elbert in the distance--five and one-half miles away. Didn't look so tough from here)

TRAILHEAD AND WOODED TRAIL

(We parked at 5:50 am and started up the road about 40 minutes before sunrise. We had a full moon but still needed a flashlight in the woods.)

We drove back through Twin Lakes, found the county road turnoff in the dark, and worked our way up past the Twin Lakes Campground and further up the 4-wheel drive road in the dark. We found the parking spot (at about 10,000 feet) we wanted and set out at approximately 5:50 am—forty minutes before official sunrise. At first we had to use a flashlight but we were still on the dirt road and hiked about a mile further up to the official trailhead. There, we ran into a couple of guys from Boston who were also hiking the summit.

(The official trailhead marker--it was still pitch dark at this point)

There it was just getting daylight when we crossed over the wooden bridge and “officially” started the ascent of Mt. Elbert. Shortly along the trail we reached a “Y” where the Colorado Trail went to the right and the Mt. Elbert trail to the left. From here, the trail was through wooded pine and aspen trees but became steep very quickly.

(Twilight had become sunrise by the time we made it up the 4-wheel road to the footbridge marking the trailhead)

(Early on, Devin had excess energy and jumped up on this boulder for the photo. Eleven hours later, coming down, he barely looked at it)

(Although the wooded trail was mostly dirt--it was still uphill and at times could be very steep)

I felt the first hour went pretty well and my breathing actually acclimated to the altitude quicker than I had in New Mexico three weeks earlier and after about two hours, we broke out of the wooded area at the Alpine treeline—around 12,000 feet.

(Break time--we were both still feeling energetic and good but it would start to get harder from this point)

ALPINE AREA

At this point, Mt. Elbert was still a faraway mountain peak, but we continued hiking upward. The landscape was barren but did have a grassy cover here. My new boots were feeling good and I really appreciated having the new trekking poles with me at this point.

(You can see the delineation between the grassy alpine area and the rocky glacial trail. This was my first experience with trekking poles and I fully endorse them.)

At around 12,500 feet I started having trouble breathing again which slowed our pace but I still felt pretty good about our progress. We were beginning to encounter other hikers who were coming up behind us and going faster. All were very nice but one guy just couldn’t believe Devin was climbing in running sockwear. Already, at this point, I was slowing our progress down but Devin didn’t seem to mind. He was wearing his triathlon Garmin GPS wrist tracker so we knew our altitude at all times and we also were carrying a spot tracker so others could plot our progress on the Internet.

(Looking back at 13,000 feet--Twin Lakes is out of sight below the crest)

At one point we met a young couple who were climbing the peak on her birthday—which was basically what I was doing too. They were real nice and we talked a bit then they took off ahead of us but I could see she was really struggling too.

(Around 13,000 feet the views were becoming spectacular)

We continued up through what I call the “alpine area” and the views kept getting more and more spectacular the higher we climbed. At 14,000 feet we stopped and took a picture of Devin’s altimeter. At this point I was really struggling with my breathing and, while my legs were tired, I still felt pretty strong. I think we were about 4.5 miles into the hike at this point—all uphill of course. The next two miles would be killers and I would wonder several times if I’d bitten off more than I could chew with this adventure.

(This was a watershed moment: I had never officially climbed over 14,000 feet before--we could now truthfully say we were "fourteeners.")

By now, because of the thin air, I was only hiking about thirty steps then having to rest and breathe—so the progress was frustratingly slow. This was the same thing that had happened to me on Wheeler Peak three weeks earlier, so I knew what to expect and I knew that if I just kept going, I would eventually make the peak. I told Devin it was ok if he wanted to go ahead of me and summit and wait for me there but he was really considerate and stayed with me. I’m sure he could have summited at least two hours ahead of me if he had gone ahead.

GLACIAL AREA

The alpine trail wound around until it became what I called a “glacial area” with no grass and rocks and boulders strewn around everywhere. As we worked our way around the curvature of the mountain, we finally caught sight of the summit again only about 400 feet above us but it was one of the most heartbreaking discoveries of the whole climb—that 400 vertical feet would take nearly two hours of absolutely miserable step-after-step climbing on rock switchbacks. My legs had long ago gone from “greyhound mode” to “bulldog mode” and I was literally struggling to do 25-30 steps without stopping to literally “suck air.” And, while I still felt strong, my legs had really begun to tire on me.

(Although there were no truly "dangerous" areas, we did encounter some dramatic drop-offs as evidenced by Devin's feet in this photo. He hiked the entire trail in these "running socks." Several hikers voiced dismay he would do it--I had some reservations too but he said they did just fine.")

(Although Mt. Elbert has no true "false summits," this was the view after four hours of hiking. Thinking we were close, we realized Elbert was the peak in the background. It is the one point in the hike where I wondered if I was going to make it to the top.)

Devin continued to be patient with our progress and stayed with me. We also continued to meet other hikers ascending and, at this point, some we had met earlier who were now coming back down. It seems that every major climb like this presents a strange occurrence. On Wheeler Peak, it had been a jogger going past me at over 13,000 feet up the mountain, but on Mt. Elbert it was even stranger.

(At this point, there was nothing left to do but "gut it out")

We were getting very near the summit when we looked up and a Japanese guy was literally running down the mountain jumping from large rock to large rock. What struck me first was that he was wearing white linen pants with a white silk vest and a white Fedora hat (1930s style). As he reached us, I also noticed he was wearing white dress loafers and was carrying a purse (or, as they call it in Europe: a “manbag”). He flagged Devin down and asked what trail he was on—he had summited Mt. Elbert in dress clothes and then gotten turned around and headed down the wrong trail!!! When he figured that out, he turned around and began running back up to the summit. I mean he was literally running—I could only stand there gasping for air and watch him in amazement.

We continued upward and by now, my body was operating on “auto pilot” while I was literally placing one foot in front of the other and forcing myself upward. But finally, I rounded a switchback and could see the summit in front of me. We arrived almost exactly seven hours after leaving the trailhead.

(This is the final view before summiting--my feet and boots felt like they weighed thirty pounds each at this point)

SUMMIT (14,440 feet)

(Modern technology--Devin's hand-held GPS system was accurate to the foot despite being nearly three miles above sea level)

I will never forget the experience of viewing the mountains from Mt. Elbert! Here, we were at the highest point in Colorado; the highest point in the Rocky Mountain chain; and the third highest state highpoint in the United States—14,440 feet above sea level. You may experience it, but you can never really describe it. The weather had not just been good; it had been uncharacteristically beautiful and there were no storm clouds anywhere in any direction. I later read that, on a clear day, you can see literally hundreds of miles from the summit and we had a beautifully clear day.

(Twin Lakes is below Devin and Texas is far, far away behind him)

There are four major trails leading to the summit and approximately 12-15 people were there when we arrived—including the couple celebrating her birthday. It’s funny, but when you get up there, people tend to separate and find a solitary place and just sit looking out by themselves for a few minutes. We
saw three dogs that had climbed with their owners to the summit.

(There were about 12-15 people at the summit but people were, for the most part, very solitary and quiet--the views were in themselves very awe-inspiring)

Devin and I spent about 45 minutes up there taking pictures and just admiring the beauty. We got pictures of ourselves with our Dynamo jerseys and shot photos of the survey marker—the official “summit” of Colorado and the Rockies. I shot a couple of panoramic videos of the surrounding mountains and it was strange to view those massive “fourteeners” and realize they were all below us.

(Of course we had to show the colors!)

There was a clear view of Leadville below us and, amazingly, the cell tower there was unobstructed and people were getting crystal-clear cell phone coverage! Devin had five bars on his phone and called Alida from the summit. With cell coverage, everybody had Internet on their smart phones and was emailing pictures from their cell phones. We have very much become a technological society.

(They claim you can see a hundred miles from here on a clear day)

I personally sat down behind a rock cairn to get out of the wind and just soaked in the spectacular and amazing beauty all around me. We only saw one chipmunk up there but he knew how to beg for food and loved our salted almonds—but wouldn’t touch my powerbar.

(He loved our salted almonds but wouldn't touch my PowerBar--probably shows good taste on his part)

I had hydrated well on the way up—four pints of water—but had eaten hardly anything and didn’t have any appetite. I tried to force myself to eat some jerky and part of a powerbar but that was all I could do. I may have been experiencing “altitude sickness” to some degree but never got a headache.

(Devin at the top--the weather was just perfect!)

There is an old saying: “summiting is optional; but returning to base camp isn’t.” So, after 45 minutes, we were the only ones left and we started back down. The trip back took longer than either of us anticipated—four hours and fifteen minutes—and was not a fun experience but we arrived back at the car 11 hours and 54 minutes after setting out that morning. We had hiked 11.5 miles and ascended a total of 4,545 feet in the first seven hours—not particularly good time but, for me, a personal best. Devin is a ultra marathoner and triathlete and even he admitted he was beat when we got back to the car. After pulling my boots off, we drove back down the 4-wheel drive road very carefully, got some food to go at the Windspirit Café, and returned to the lodge again to eat supper outside at the base of Mt. Elbert.

Just an incredible experience!!!!!

My Experiences Climbing the High Points of the Fifty States......(or at least 25 of them so far)

In 1999 I retired from the Texas prison system and spent the better part of a month just traveling and camping around the borders of Texas--mostly in remote areas in an attempt to just get away from people and be alone. At one point I was camping in the Guadalupe Mountains National Park just south of the border of New Mexico and one day I decided to hike a trail to what was described as the "highest point in Texas." It was a tough hike but during the course of ascending I ran across two hikers who were members of an organization called "Highpointers of the Fifty States." I found the organization interesting and after bagging my first high point here in Texas, I decided to climb as many myself as I was able. I joined the organization--and they have a very interesting web site at http://highpointers.org/and to date I have climbed the highest points of twenty-five states--from the lowest in Florida (345 feet) to the third highest in the U.S. in Colorado (14,466 feet). Most are very remote but some, like in Delaware are in housing subdivisions. The high point in Iowa is on a farm and the owner encourages visitors. In my travels I have come across dinosaur tracks, the marker where Bonnie and Clyde were killed, Native American prayer cairns, and camped in the coldest, most bitter site I've ever known.

There's a saying within the organization that "the higher you climb, the nicer the people." I have found this to be true--some of these remote high points have people living nearby who maintain them and they have been some of the nicest, and most interesting, people I've met. They are usually "characters" but that only makes the experiences more interesting. Although it's been nearly five years since I "bagged" my last highpoint, I still plan to add to the list whenever I can.

Here is the journal I've maintained since that first high point here in Texas. I have arranged it from the first high point to the last--in other words, in reverse order from most blogs--so when you get to the end of the page it will be necessary to click on "older posts" to continue the journal.

State Highpoint Number 25

New Mexico

Date: August 4, 2010
Peak: Wheeler Peak
Height: 13,161 feet
Vertical Climb: 3,693 feet
Round-Trip Mileage: 16.0 miles
Peak Class: 6
Height Rank--US: 8th

Sunrise was at 6:10 and I was on the trail right at 6:00—leaving the Twining Campground parking lot and taking the Bull of the Woods route to the summit. The day before I had hiked nearly to the Bull of the Woods Pasture in running shoes to help acclimate the altitude but I was still struggling this morning as I left the parking lot. It was an unofficial goal to summit in five hours but that was just a number pulled out of my head. This was my third attempt—the first two being aborted when I got into snow at the La Cal Basin. I won’t hike solo in snow—I’m from Texas…..For this hike I was carrying a backpack with a long-sleeve shirt, rain jacket, six pints of water, trail mix, two power bars, apples and nectarines, and jerky. It probably weighed 20-25 pounds with the water making most of the weight.

The trail is steep and rocky and I read somewhere that it is here you gain the most altitude but I’m not sure I believe that. It is, however, strenuous and it took me a good fifteen minutes to actually start breathing normal again. Despite my conditioning all this year, I had to pace myself and take breaks in what seemed to be every 100 steps or so. I reached to old logging road fairly quickly and the trail widened but didn’t get any easier.

I may well have been among the first people setting out from this trailhead because I didn’t see anybody else until about thirty minutes into the hike when a couple of hikers passed me—about one mile up the trailhead. I reached the Bull of the Woods Pasture (2 ¼ miles) after about 1 hour and 25 minutes and felt pretty good at this point.

After taking a short break there, I continued upward along the trail and had a beautiful view of the chair area of the Taos Ski Valley below on the right. It was an encouraging sign in that I could see that I had made significant progress from the trailhead. The trail here was not particularly steep and somewhat pleasant compared to the first segment. After climbing a while, I passed the Red River Valley on the left with amazing views to the north.

Shortly after this, I passed through the old log gate and entered into the Wheeler Peak Wilderness Area and worked my way upward until I cleared the tree line—the alpine area—which I knew was about 12,000 feet in New Mexico.

About three hours into the hike I saw my first bighorn sheep. Even at the distance, they were very obviously bighorns and I took a photo with my zoom lens that was still very hard to distinguish but as I edited and zoomed the photo later, they are very clear. I later saw alpine deer and about this time I began seeing marmots and chipmunks literally everywhere.

After peaking what I believe was Frazier Mountain, the trail leveled off then began descending into what is referred to as the La Cal Basin. This is where the snow halted me on the first two hikes and was the reason I waited until August to try this ascent. Especially the second trip up, snow was everywhere and knee-deep and I was getting lost trying to find the trail but this year there was absolutely no snow anywhere. I later saw two patches of snow on distant mountainsides but didn’t encounter any myself.

About this time, I encountered two men coming down the trail. Turns out they were from Fort Worth and St. Louis but had been living in the mountains for several months. They were both really nice and one of them was telling me about riding the Katy Trail in Missouri—one of my future goals. They estimated I was about half-way to the summit at this point. There’s an old Highpointer saying—“the higher you climb, the nicer the people,” and I’ve found that’s true. After a brief conversation with them, I headed out again and here is where the La Cal Basin begins to descend into a “saddle” or valley. I had been warned from several trip reports that this is the most discouraging part of the hike because you lose all the altitude you just worked to get. It was at this point I was passed by a jogger of all things! I had seen the same guy the day before actually running up the steep part from the trailhead.

I was nearly four hours into the hike—all upward at this point—and I was beginning to feel the climb in my legs. The hike down involved a series of switchbacks and was easy but I couldn’t enjoy it because I knew I was going to have to climb right back up.

The short hike across the basin was also easy but then came the monster series of switchbacks upward. Every trip report had described this as the most difficult part of the ascent and they weren’t exaggerating.

The trip report I was relying on suggested setting a pace of 100 steps and a short rest but I was averaging more like fifty steps between rests and it seemed I was never making any progress. The switchbacks just keep going up, and up, and up….. To make it even worse, there at least three “false summits” where you think you’re at the top only to find the trail continues on to an even higher peak.

By now, I was approaching my five-hour goal and still was nowhere close to the summit. My legs were beginning to feel rubbery and were really starting to wobble on me. My right knee, where I had the meniscus pad stitched last spring, was beginning to feel sore so I took four Advil.

After the second “false summit,” the sky started getting dark and I could hear thunder in the background. I couldn’t see Wheeler Peak but knew where it was and dark clouds were blowing by on both sides of it. Everything, and I mean everything, I’ve read says to get off the mountain if there’s lightening.

As I was approaching the third “false summit”—Mount Walter—I was passed by another hiker who was really moving along at a fast clip. He got about a half-mile ahead of me on the switchbacks and there was a big clap of thunder above us and I saw him swivel on this heels and start right back down the trail. By now my legs were screaming at me to stop and I thought that if I needed a legitimate excuse to turn back, the storm was it. But I continued up—still about fifty steps at a time between rests—and finally I met him coming back down. He recommended I turn back but also told me if I continued on to watch the storm on the north side particularly and if I “saw” any lightening to either get off the mountain or hunker down in the open under my rain poncho until the storm passed.

And so I continued on. I can honestly say without too much exaggeration that it was one of the more physically punishing decisions I’ve ever made. I had just come too far and invested too much money on this trip to turn back at this point. At the slow pace I was moving, both storms blew past eventually. Along here, I was passed by a woman, also from Fort Worth, who was spending the summer in New Mexico and we talked a while. As we started back up, she easily outdistanced me and shortly disappeared from sight.

At the top of the La Cal Basin the trail became a ridgeline path up to Mount Walter—the final “false summit.” I, however, had lost count and as I approached it, I saw the woman and two young guys at a marker and thought I had finally reached the summit of Wheeler Peak only to find that I was on Mount Walter and the summit was another couple hundred yards further (and uphill) to Wheeler Peak.

The three other hikers obviously beat me up but I struggled up the ridgeline and finally bagged my 25^th highpoint. My third attempt spanning over ten years. 13, 161 feet elevation and a 16-mile round-trip hike involving 3,693 feet of elevation climb.

The view, however, is spectacular. The four of us took pictures of each other, signed the logbook in the marker tube, and rested. We were almost immediately overrun by marmots and chipmunks begging for food. They were really persistent and would almost tug at your pant leg with their teeth to get attention.

The two guys were college students and were working at the nearby Philmont Scout Camp for the summer. They were particularly nice kids and the four of us had a good rest at the top. They had climbed from another route and were going back that way and the woman was returning a different route also so I was solo going back down which was a good thing because my legs were shot and I wasn’t making any good time at all at this point.

Before we left, we fed the critters trail mix and probably raised their cholesterol levels to insane numbers. I guess one of the marmots felt ignored because it grabbed the cord to my camera and took off dragging it. Another took off with the map the two guys were using.

If anything, the trip back down was more punishing that the trip up because my legs were like jelly at this point and the downhill hike was just killing my toes. On top of that, one of my boots started coming apart along the side. At the end, when I pulled my boots off, I had four black toenails and all four were bleeding. I threw the boots in the nearest trash can.

The time to the summit was about seven hours—nearly two hours more than my goal—and the total time trailhead to trailhead was 11 hours and 10 minutes, including the time at the top. Not particularly good times but at least they’re “my” times. The drive back to Taos—only about thirty minutes—seemed to take hours but it was worth it.

I finally conquered Wheeler Peak!!!!!