Hard to believe last week's trip was already a week ago – I can get used to these weekly adventures.
On the menu for this trip was a group of 3, 14,000 foot peaks known as the Lincoln group near Breckenridge, Colorado.
Our overnight trip included some extras not on the menu including storms, ice, and mines. The pictures tell the story more, so they can do most of the talking for the actual trip.
We packed up the car with anything and everything we could possible need for the 2 day trip west and hit the road early Thursday morning. It wasn't long before the cloudy hot weather turned into an endless torrential down-poor, but we inched up further and further to Breckenridge where we stopped for food, a walk, and a contingency plan in case we couldn't do the intended mountains thanks to mother nature.
A bumper sticker for the wealthy folks in Breck
Soon we were racing up the hills near Alma and cresting the continental divide where the weather cleared and warmed.
Feeling philosophical, I pondered... If you put a ball at the continental divide, will it go to the Atlantic or Pacific ocean?
The road leading up to the Kite Lake trail head was specified as a “Rough 2WD road.” I agree. The foot-deep holes and streams racing across in combination with the mud and small boulders put my little Pontiac to a test and somehow, it ended up fine.
This area was once big time mining country. Gold and silver mines are all over out here, just daring to be explored.
So we did. First we came across an old mill dating back to the late 1800's. Though “off limits” to the public, we crept into it and soon found ourselves walking on the floorboards of what can only be described as a trip through time.
Run down walls and fallen plywood panels litter the area, but it was in remarkably good shape. We wanted to go up and explore the rest of it, but the clouds were building and a storm was brewing (again). We needed to get to our campsite.
Soon we reached the end of the road after seeing tons of other cool mineshaft daring to be explored. About .7 miles from the trail and at 12,000 feet, a snowdrift still stretched across the road. Home at last we decided and parked on the precarious slope.
The threatening sky seemed to say “stay in your car.”
We dared to say “hold on... Let me see the trail.”
And back to the “mistakes” we are...
We hiked partway up the road hoping to see the trail conditions so we could plan for the following day's hike. Soon though, a pelting ice ball hit my jacket.
And another.
The signpost was right there, and as I ran to check it out, a bolt of lightning struck just a quarter mile to the south along the ridge – way to close for comfort.
Being trapped above treeline in a storm like that is a big no-no, and as we raced back to the car, the constant thunder and lightning made sure we knew this and knew it well.
Dumping hail and rain at this point in combination with the 30mph winds, this was NOT what we wanted. We ran as fast as possible back to shelter across the accumulating hail, and luckily, we made it back safe, thought exhausted from the sprint at altitude.
I have never run for my life like that before. Ah, memories :)
“Safe” in the car now, we listened upwards of 15 minutes as the hail, wind, and rain pummeled my car and thought how lucky we had just been. It is really amazing how different a thunderstorm is when you are so close to the action. Thunder roars louder and lightning is even brighter, adding an element of fear to a deadly equation.
Eventually, it passed and we had a break to set up camp in the chilly wind and venture out to a nearby mine Mel noticed on the way up.
Creeping into the narrow cutout in the rocks, I took pictures, and this strange one showed up with a flash. We had headlamps on and it was moist in the cave. Breathing was fine, and there was no dust or noticeable smoke or gas or particles in the air, yet the camera caught these 2 bizarre shots.
Think what you will.
It ended about 30 feet in, unfortunately, and we turned back and went back to camp to finish setting up. There are so many mines around this area, I just wish more were stable-ish like this one. To live in a mining camp like what was here 50 or 100 years ago would have been an incredible experience to witness, especially by today's standards.
We had a few minutes before the next storm came racing down the ridge and soon were hunkered down in my tent that, at times, bent almost flat. Thank you MSR for making a good product haha.
The clouds broke, and we boiled some water for dinner and readied our packs for Friday before sleeping.
The trusty Beatles clock chimed out at 4 a.m., and we took down camp and watched the clouds drape across the peaks we were hoping to ascend. Hoping it cleared, we took off along the now iced over ground.
The storm last night had left a layer of water and hail that froze over during the night. What is normally an easy Class 2 hike had been transformed into a giant ice scramble.
The steepest snow leading up to a ridge near the saddle of Democrat and Lincoln had gotten so bad that, without trekking poles or crampons, it was not possible. I was able to get about ¾ of the way up before the ice got too hard to dig in to with my boots. A long, bumpy slide (though ridiculously fun!) was the result, and we decided to take a longer way up the ridge in hopes of bypassing the impossible ice.
We climbed up some class 2 and 3 scree steeply positioned on mountainside and encountered, yes, more snow and ice. These traverse spots were smaller but much, much steeper. Pictures do not do it justice at all, and it truly was enough to make even me dizzy – not the easiest of feats. Using a rock and my boot, I dug in a path of holds about 15 feet long 3 times above the 100 foot drop into rock, ice, and cement-like snow.
Growing tired and cramping up, the only thing that made me keep going was realizing that a crowd of nearly a dozen hikers had formed near our initial ascent spot. Puzzled, they looked on as we traversed across what looks, from there, as an impossible route.
If only cameras could do the pitch justice...
After nearly an hour of working on that route, the sun had hit the area we tried originally. This allowed the average hiker and onlooker to simply walk up the now slushy snow.
I like our way better.
We were now on the trail and quickly climbing the rough trail up Mt. Democrat's false summit. Once there, it wasn't long before we were at the summit - 14,148 feet. Looking out, this was the first summit we had made there there are mountains all around us still snow capped.
The descent for those of us with long strides was quick, and lunch was the standard tuna and Clif bars before we began our climb up the ridge to Mt. Cameron at 14,238 and eventually to Lincoln. This trail looked tricky from the summit of Democrat, but turned out to be an easy-ish (though steep) walk up a very groomed, defined trail.
Cameron's summit was a flat expanse of small rocks and Martian dirt with the occasional spider and mine for good measure. Lincoln was only a few dozen feet higher, and we were soon walking on the edge of the world in the Mosquito range to it's summit.
I would have to say this is the most beautiful summit we have done to date. There is simply too much for the eye to take in, and pictures cannot begin to grasp the enormity of it all. Everything looks as if it is from a calender, and you feel as if, while walking near the mines, you are traveling through time.
Pictures tell the story, and the feeling of being so high for so long is unlike anything words can describe.
After a 15 minute rest overlooking the world it was on to Mt. Bross along an easy dirt path and old mining road along a ridge.
Signs say that this is “not accessible” to the public. Ownership issues have made this one of many peaks that are not public lands anymore, to which I say buck the system. You can't own a mountain, especially one of the highest ones in the state. We hiked up, didn't get arrested, and soon found ourselves at the final peak for the day.
The expanse of this flat summit looks martian-like as well, tempting the eye to see the drops on all sides.
The bypass trail leads down a gully of scree, fully lined with even more mines and slippery loose rock. The mines had all long-ago collapsed (or been destroyed?), but they still tempt the eye to look in and dare to be explored.
The tricky descent was more of a controlled fall/slide for 2,000 vertical feet, and we soon found ourselves bushwhacking the final stretch back to the car along the snow-topped river.
Reflections:
Weather:
Obviously, this is a no-brainer, but it really came to play on this trip. The weather dictates what you do, how long, and when to worry. In our daily lives, we rarely even mention it as we sit inside or in our cars. Yet, up the mountain, it can truly be the difference between life and death... between a successful summit or an early trip home. Crazy to think that something so simple dictates so much, at least in the outdoor enthusiast's world.
Going bigger:
I realize these peaks we have done are nowhere near the Capitols and Maroon Bells of Colorado – some of the toughest routes in the state. Instead, they are just tricky, high, adventurous day hikes leading up to our eventual summit of the tough ones in the state. Not to say they should not count as epic hikes – we seem to have a way of making even the easiest of routes a difficult and deadly adventure.
I love that about our trips, and even if we start to think it's getting bad, we find a way to gather ourselves for the successful ascent. More than anything, they are fun and we work together. Even though we get off the mountain exhausted from what some would call an easy day, we know that we are well on our way to topping each of the toughest ones.
People train on mountains, and I feel that is what we are always doing. Training for bigger and better, getting more accommodated to the conditions of the mountains so that one day, bigger trips and maybe even K2 or Everest can come into the picture.
I read a quote today, and actually took note of it... something I almost never do. I feel it really puts a poetic spin on what I have always felt these trips mean to me.
“I learned that the richness of life is found in adventure. It develops self reliance and independence. Life then teams with excitement. There is stagnation only in security.”
-William Orville Douglas
