IPW trip reports...
IPW trip reports... |
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My fascination with the Indian Peaks Wilderness (IPW) was seeded long ago, when first moving to Fort Collins. My job would have me commuting daily (mostly south) along the front range. My eyes were constantly drawn to the jagged mountain range immediately West. This range consists of the Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP) at the Northern end, and the IPW at the Southern end. It took no time at all for me to get into exploring the well laid out trails of RMNP. The IPW however, taunted me for several years. In fact, it wouldn't be until spring of '02 that I would commit to a weekend of backpacking, climbing and camping in this prestine wilderness area. By definition alone, the "Wilderness" designation that governs the IPW serves to protect the area and limit it's use and exposure. Most importantly, it prohibits any motorized travel within it's boundaries. This, along with a handful of other crippling regulations, do very well to protect the natural area from our curious exploits. The result is a huge area of the rocky mountains which see's very little infiltration beyond the first few miles of it's boundaries. Since my first trip in 2002, the IPW has become my favorite mountainous area to spend time in. While I am equally allured to other amazing ranges in the state, the IPW offers the convenience of being only 1 hour from home.
Shoshoni Peak, Oct 3rd, 2004, was a consolation prize. Jared & I had high hopes for the weekends travels. As it turned out; too high. As I had heard on many occasions prior, the rangers stations predicted too much snow for our endeavor. They actually went so far this time as to recommend driving around to the West side of the wilderness and make our approach from there. "The pass likely has too much snow to provide safe travel and descent into the western region." Ha - Thanks for the info. And as I had done on many occasions prior, disregarded their cautions as conservative warnings. This time, however, they were 100% accurate. Not only were they accurate, but an approach from the West side would still have been ill-fated.
Jared & I had been on a mountaineering roll and had Lone Eagle Peak in our sights for this weekends adventure. The weather, up until 1 week prior had been great. Since then, it had rained and/or snowed in the high country. We new that an early October climb would be cold at night and cool during the day. We didn't have any idea though, in regards to the amount of snow accumulation that existed above 11,000 feet. We had this weekend planned for several weeks now & a little early snow was not going to deter us from trying. We opted to begin our journey to Crater Lake from the eastern slopes, at Long Lake trailhead. An approach from this side meant another 2 miles or so in our trip. This still seemed better than a 4 hr drive to the appropriate western trailhead. Our next attempt will start from the west!
Disregarding the rangers advice, and even reports from a climber who attempted the pass one day prior, we marched off from the trailhead at 8:45 Saturday morning. We made great time for the first couple of miles, having them behind us before 10:00. By the time we reached the northern stretches of Long Lake though, the tone had changed dramatically. While Jared had already put on his gaiters, I was in denial and stubbornly ignored the deep snow for hope that it was just a short section. After a few "short sections", I finally put on my gaiters to keep the snow out of the boots. Cold feet when the sun goes down would not be very much fun. At the rate of our current pace, it would easily be sundown before we got over the pass to a safe (and legal) campsite. There is no backcountry camping allowed east of the divide in our travel zone of the IPW. By noon, we were well above treeline, but were still well below the pass. In fact, the pass had been out of sight for quite some time with the low clouds lingering over our heads. Every once in awhile, we could get a glimpse of the pass and take mental note on where we needed to head for safe crossing. Like typical men with to much pride, both of us plunged onward in the deep snow as if we were going to make it. Both of us new our trip was not realistic with the given conditions. I recalled the West side of the pass being very steep, containing several switchbacks to make it doable. I did not want to attempt this in knee-deep snow with no indication of any trails whatsoever. One of us finally hinted towards the obvious. Mutual acceptance was instant. So, now what? Hiking back to the car was an awful thought! We both had 55 pound packs loaded with food, camping and technical climbing gear for our Lone Eagle ascent. The last mile alone had taken a solid hour. I understand that rules and regulations serve a valuable purpose: to keep the general balance and harmony of things in check. However, this is one of those cases where common sense needs to override the rules. We were camping somewhere here on the EAST side of the divide tonight. Perhaps the weather would be better tomorrow and we could climb something. Our "impact" to this "high use" region of the wilderness area was null and void, as we dug out a platform in the snow just adjacent to a sizeable rock formation. We camped at somewhere around 12,200 feet that night, my highest. The wind howled and a storm prevailed that would keep us tent-bound from 4pm through the rest of the night. We heated up a couple of cups of red wine and made the most of our tight confinement. The storm brought wet snow and ice that would constantly stick to the tent and require our attention. To much weight on the protective rain fly would press it against the main layer and cause instant condensation on the inside. Being kept warm by our down jackets and down sleeping backs, water in the tent was not a welcomed sight.
The next morning we awoke to a beautiful and clear day. A lot of snow had fallen throughout the night. Our tracks from the day before were literally gone in some spots. We melted more snow for cooking water and prepared some hot cereal. Now getting a full view of our surroundings, I was reminded of why I love this place so much. The glaciated peaks are sharp and jagged. So much of it seems impassible by any sane mountaineer. The fresh blanket of snow on the surrounding peaks and ridges added an element of reverence to the IPW that I had never before felt. These mountains are real, and this wilderness is every bit of "wild". I can see how easily a unprepared man could perish in the very environment we slept through last night. The weather went from a lingering cloud to a relentless storm in an hour's time.
Warmed by the hot cereal and the rising sun, Jared and I set off, again, for the pass. Our goal was to gain the pass and head South for Shoshoni Peak. The travel was slow but steady. Post-holing in the snow clear up to our hips between boulders became the accepted reality of our pursuit. With good use of our ski poles, this was mitigated to a tolerable amount. We took turns plunging in the lead. The follower had an easy road, as the steps before him were generally consolidated and any witnessed obstacles were easily avoided. We reached the summit of Shoshoni in 1.5 hrs. from the tent. Peering over the pass, I was comforted in knowing that we made the right decision last night. The actual summit of Shoshoni is a sort of a disconnected spire separated from the ridge by a small notch. In the summer, I'm sure that this short scramble would be something easily overcome. In the snow, however, careful measures were taken to avoid slipping on some hidden loose rock, and ultimately sliding and bouncing for a very long steep way. We took our obligatory summit shots and began our journey back to the tent. On the way back we encountered a solo climber who was relieved to attain our fresh tracks to speed his own travel. He was also climbing Shoshoni, to complete his effort of climbing ALL of the IPW peaks along the divide. Wow. If only I didn't have to work, I thought.
Every year I have a clan of nephew's and a niece that come to Colorado for the summer to stay with their dad (my brother-in-law, Steve). This year, I borrowed the oldest of the bunch, Chaz, for a weekend of hiking and climbing. As he recently turned 14, I felt it was time to introduce him to real camping and climbing. Chaz was thrilled. Of course, he already knew that Uncle Jason was cool. But how cool would it be to climb a mountain with him, while leaving the sister and brothers at home! I was equally excited, that he was looking forward to it. I began plotting my weekend getaway, keeping in mind that Chaz had never hiked more than a few miles. Nor had he ever climbed to the summit of a serious mountain. Having only a standard weekend to execute our adventure, I immediately looked to the IPW for something moderate. I noticed that the Middle Saint Vrain Trailhead was closer to the Continental Divide than any other trailhead on the Eastern slopes. From there, Buchanan Pass was only 2.8 miles. From the pass, the summit of Sawtooth Mountain was only .4 miles to the South. And so, the plan was in place. We could leave the trailhead for a very easy hike to Red Dear lake (along the way) for a quick & easy campsite. The next morning, we could get up early and make our attempt on Sawtooth Mountain.
The 4wd road to the trailhead was a bit more than the Subie could handle. Knowing this in advance, I borrowed Steve's truck for the duty. It worked out well. We got a late morning start and reached the trailhead around noon. The hike to Red Dear Lake was fairly flat with steepening terrain near the end. It was very hard to find a campsite that conformed to the wilderness regulations, which prohibit camping within 100 ft of water. The lake is basically the bottom of a bowl, with snowfields melting into it from all directions. We finally conceded that the 100 foot rule applied to permanent lakes, steams, creeks and such. With all of the melt water trickling through the area, camping close to the lake would have been impossible this time of the year, if following the 100 foot rule. 
We settled on a nice spot on a grassy bench a couple of hundred feet above the lake. Just above us, was a rock cliff band that had dozens of little water falls bleeding over it's rim from the snowy slopes above. Once settled, we quickly took our fishing poles to the lake for some fun trout fishing. The fish were jumping like mad. Chaz caught several, while I only caught one. This was amazing for me though, as I am NOT a fisherman by any means. We each kept one for a dinner appetizer. Fishing here was more exciting than any other place I've fished, mostly because they kept biting! We fished for several hours until we were so cold that we had to return to camp. Back at the campsite, I fired up the stove and we proceeded to prepare our catch. Neither Chaz or myself had ever done this before - and it showed! Rather than gutting our fish, we butchered them. They cooked up quite tasty nonetheless, and we got a heck of a laugh in the process. We cooked up some rammen noodles to top off our meal. By now, it was dark and Chaz was ready for sleep. A couple of miles with a fairly heavy pack was a new experience for him, and it showed, as he fell fast asleep in less than a few minutes.
The next morning would be the start of an awesome day. The sky was crystal clear. I made a batch of oatmeal that Chaz ultimately turned down. To my surprise, he does not like butter! His decision though, would haunt him later. I learned long ago, in the mountains, one eats what is available - end of story. We soon set off for our journey up Sawtooth. Taking the advise of a another climber on SummitPost.com, I opted for the more aesthetic East Ridge route. This route allowed for difficulties equal to that of the standard route from the pass, or as hard as fifth class. Moreover, it offered spectacular views of two basins while hiking the ridge. Being Chaz's first time, I kept the pace pretty slow. After a couple of hours, we gained the ridge proper. The wild flowers were in full bloom, and I could not quit taking pictures of them! Chaz's pace had slowed dramatically, and I new something was bothering him. As it turned out, his empty stomach was churning. He gagged over the Cliff Shot power gel I gave him. He said that was the worst thing he's ever tasted. So much for the power gel rejuvenation. He ate a granola bar, drank some water and rested a bit. This seemed to put some gas back in his tank.
Near the upper stretches of the ridge, the climbing became extremely fun, as we devoured fourth class terrain. This is what I wanted Chaz to get a taste of. Just as suspected, he liked scrambling on the rocks. The uppermost section of the ridge was the most challenging for him. For the hardest section of the day, 
I chose a line that would push his envelope just a tad more. With me spotting him, Chaz made a few airy moves on some exposed rock ledges that would hopefully stick in his mind for years to come. I crawled up behind him, and we walked to the summit together. Someone had taken the time to build a wind block out of rocks near the top. This provided for a nice retreat from the windy summit while we relaxed, ate some more food, and took in the panoramic views of the Continental Divide. I hoped that this would be a special momment for Chaz, as so many people in the world have no idea what it is like to stand on top of a high mountain. Especially so, after working so hard to get there. He did great.
The trek down was a casual stroll on a well established trail. We descended to Buchanan Pass, and followed the trail back to it's junction with Red Dear Lake. The day's effort had begun to wear on Chaz. As soon as we hit the junction, I blazed back to camp and broke down the tent for packing. By the time Chaz reached camp, I had the bulk of the work done. We lounged for a while in the sun before hitting the trail back to the truck. The 2 mile 4wd road back to civilization put a lot of spark back into Chaz's eyes. He urged me to go faster over every ditch and through stream crossing along the way. We had to stop and winch out a Jeep Wrangler that had stalled out in some deep water. I felt terrible for the guy, as he had his wife and 2 kids in the Jeep with him. We offered them a ride back to the ranger station, but they declined.
Back home, the family was all together for a cookout. Chaz was to worn out to show any real enthusiasm. Later that evening though, he told tall tales to his brothers about his precarious position way up on the rock ledges, and how one slip would have surely meant nothing but doom. This confirmed my hopes that he had a memorable time that weekend.
Date: May 28th – 30th, 2002
Difficulty: Moderate to Difficult
Trip Distance: 20 Miles
Our trip started at Long Lake trailhead, continued up past Isabel Lake, up Isabel Glacier, around Apache Pk, down Fair Glacier to camp 1 at Crater Lake (6.6 miles). Day two took us over to Cascade Creek and up to Pawnee Lake for camp 2 (2.25 miles). On day 3, we hiked from Pawnee lake up to Pawnee Pass, Back down to Lake Isabel, and back out to Long Lake trailhead (7.35 miles). The road to the trailhead is closed up to June 1. This adds another 4 miles to a round trip effort via Long Lake trailhead.
I should start this trip report by first giving credit to God and His beautiful creation of the Indian Peaks Wilderness. This was, without a doubt, one of the best hiking/mountaineering trips I’ve been on. Grayson, Eric, and myself spent three days hiking,
climbing (non-technical), glissading, and camping in the Wilderness and never once saw another person. I called the Boulder Ranger Station the week prior to our trip to gauge the severity of our endeavor. The ranger told me that now was not a good time to go. She stated that there were still up to 6’ snow drifts in the forested areas, and that route finding would surely add time and energy to out travels. Fear not. I have snow shoes and a map, I told myself. I also have crampons and an axe for Isabel Glacier, food for three days, cookware/stove, standard layering clothes, spare clothes, sleeping bag/pad, water & a filter pump, and finaly, the camera. “Wow, our packs feel kind of heavy guys.” Grayson & Eric have never done anything like this before…they live in Illinois. Sorry Guys. After a week of chasing gear and borrowing from everyone and anyone, I finally had them fully outfitted for the tip, and off we went.
The 2 mile hike up the road to Brainard Lake actually provided a good warm-up for the ALL DAY CLIMB that was ahead of us. However, we got dealt a bad hand at the east side of Brainard Lake. There were “day use” trails everywhere, as this is a heavily used campground during the summer months. We finally found a trail marker which read “To Isabel Glacier”. Of course, the sign barely poked 2 feet out of the snow that surrounded it. As for the trail itself, I’m certain that at some point during the day’s snow-shoeing travels, it was below us. We hugged the south sides of Long Lake, South St Vrain Creek and Isabel Lake until we 
could see the glacier. As it turns out, we took the less traveled Jean Luning Trail. Had we crossed to the north side of the S. St. Vrain prior to Long Lake, we would have had another 2+ miles of easy travel on a well manacured trail. This, we learned on the way back. Long Lake was long, and Lake Isabel was partially frozen at 10,868 ft. As we climbed above tree-line, the drifts went away and route finding was no longer an issue. Shoshoni, Apache, and Navaho peaks loomed above us, with our Glacier nestled between the latter of the two. Happy to be free of our snowshoes, we all take off for the glacier at warp speed… for a few minutes. Uphill sucks. It was around noon when we began to realize the true size of the glacier. The longer we hiked towards it, the bigger it got. I don’t think we ever really got closer. By 2:00 we finally found ourselves resting below our chosen snow filled couloir. We were on the far south end of the glacier and ascended up the lowest angle we could find. Eric (hereafter 
referred to as Sherpa-boy) was an animal going up his first ever snow couloir. He kicked steps in the now soft snow for the majority of the climb. 19 years old, and having played hockey his whole life, Sherpa-boy has the endurance of a camel in the desert. Grayson & I are both sucking wind. Grayson sucks wind because he, unlike Eric, is a normal human being from 300’ above sea level and has never seen or heard of half of the gear he now possesses on his body. I’m sucking because I’m old.
While Apache Pk. Is just a pile of rocks, Navaho Pk & Shoshoni Pk. both demand respect as we draw near. We finally end up on the northern shoulder of Navaho. The intent was to bag Apache – oh well, we’re too wiped out to go back and up. We ended up passing it by. I see downhill!! Like a horse to water, I’m off. I meandered my way over to the saddle between Mount George and Apache. Below us was easily a thousand feet of glissading down Fair Glacier. We could not see Crater Lake yet. Lone Eagle Peak was at the end of the ridge to our left. It looked pretty small and unimposing from this angle. “Don’t you think this looks kind of steep?” Grayson says. He and Sherpa-boy are completely drained from the final push to the ridgeline. I explained that it’s rare that one gets to stand on the Continental Divide and that they should be bursting with enthusiasm. They are tired and hungry, and my second wind annoys them. Grayson expresses that he is on his negative 3rd wind and requests that we keep it short tomorrow. After a killer glissade by all (Sherpa-boy did cart-wheels), we descend onto Triangle Lake. From there, we began our never ending search for Crater Lake. All feet are cold, the sun is sneaking away on us, we’re back in the trees post-holing in 6’ snow drifts, and where in the hell is Crater Lake!@!#?
We found Crater Lake and set up camp on a half dry rock around 7 pm. Where did the time go? Sherpa boy & Grayson go to pump water while I set up our tent. Just my luck, it begins to rain. I scrambled like crazy to get the tent erected and the rain fly on it only to finish just in time for the rain to stop and the sky to clear. On a positive note, the stars were awesome. Grayson managed to weasel the only flat spot in the tent. By exhaustion only, we all slept well.
Day 2 – Climb Lone Eagle Peak, nice & easy hike to Pawnee Lake and set up camp again? Not quite. We slept until 9 – WOW. Eric decides to try out the local fishing – for 4 hours!@#?! I guess I should have given him my watch and a return time. Grayson & I were thinking worse-case scenarios and finally went to search for him. We meet up with Eric as he was headed 
back to camp, fish in hand ? Camp was already packed up. As soon as Eric was ready, we hit the trial again for Pawnee Lake. I see why they call it Cascade Creek. The waterfalls alone made the trip worthwhile. Pawnee Lake afforded us a sweet campsite located at the very north tip of the lake. We were completely surrounded by peaks. The setting sun cast a red-orange glow on the peaks above us that silenced us all. This is postcard scenery. The fish melted in our mouths. Good job Sherpa-boy!
Day 3 – We set the alarm because we know we have a long day ahead of us getting over the pass and back to the Dodge. Did I say alarm? Although Eric heard the alarm going off, we slept in again. This time we were up at 7:30 at least. After reviewing the topo map and picking our route up to the pass, we set off for another day. After an hour of hiking I recall that it’s never what it appears to be. I hate it when this happens! Where’s the damn pass? Where did the trail go? Is that our landmark? It sure 
looks different from here! Oh well just keep climbing. The ridge is just above us. 20 feet below the ridge I find myself climbing 5.7 in boots with a 4800 cu. in. backpack at 12,840’. On the safety of a ledge, I lowered a stretch of 4 mil. accessory cord and a carabiner to haul up the boy’s packs for them. Thank God for Prussik knots! After a bowling ball sized chunk of granite bounces off Sherpa’s knee we regroup to gain the ridge. Here we are, once again., on the Continental Divide. I love Colorado.
The hike from this point is all downhill, and we make killer time. The trial on the North side of the lakes is fat! Boy did we hose up on day one! The south-facing slopes are looking more like spring in the mountains. The snow is in small shallow patches. The creeks are gushing out everywhere. The flowers are in full bloom. The day is perfect. I miss my wife and daughter now, wishing that they could see what I see.
We get back to the Ramcharger around 6 pm and head immediately for home. Well sort of…we turned the wrong way on Hwy 72 and headed south for 10 miles or so. Perhaps I should sit up and direct our Illinois driver back to Fort Collins.
-JW
Fort Collins, Colorado
