DEE DA DEE

 

 

We woke at 6am on Friday for our climb of Handies Peak.  We were greeted with cloudy skies, which no longer seemed surprising.  In my previous visits to Colorado in the summer, we were almost always treated with sunny mornings.  Afternoon thunderstorms had been a regular occurrence on those trips, but even the worst of them had been short-lived. 

 

This trip had been different though.  Dark clouds had been an almost constant companion.  We had had storms in the afternoon – as well as in the morning and at night.  Sun sightings had been few and far between.  It didn’t look like Sol would be making an appearance in our corner of Colorado today, either.

 

This was some cause for concern.  Climbing high peaks in bad weather is never a good idea, especially if that bad weather might include lightning.  On the other hand, waiting around for the weather to improve seemed hopeless.  We could only be cautious and hope that any storms would hold off until the afternoon.

 

The drive to the trailhead took longer than expected.  The road was rough enough to demand a slow pace.  To make matters worse, it was a bit scary.  The road clings to the side of Sunshine Peak.  At times, the left side of the road falls away in a vertigo-inducing drop.  So, Christy made Myron drive.

 

The Grizzly Gulch Trailhead was a three-ring circus.  The trailhead is one of two possible starting points for climbing Handies, and the main launching point for Red Cloud and Sunshine, the other 14ers in the area.  There were perhaps a dozen cars at the trailhead, with more arriving in our wake.  In addition, several groups had gotten a head start by camping at the trailhead.  That is actually not a bad option, as the parking area features a toilet and a nearby stream provides a water source.

 

We started up the trail at 7am.  I felt confident, despite my concerns about the weather.  After all, Christy and I were veteran 14er climbers, having summitted two.  Well, ok, maybe veteran isn’t the right term, but we felt like we knew what to expect.  On the other hand, this would be the first 14er for Myron and Saucony.  I was confident that Myron could handle it, now that he was more or less fully acclimated to the altitude.  For Saucony, I could only hope that the rocks wouldn’t be too tough on her paws.  At least hot, sunny weather wouldn’t be a problem for her.

 

We hiked up through the woods above Grizzly Creek.  We passed through a grassy meadow, and earned our first view of Handies Peak far above.  Before long, we had left the last of the trees behind.  More hiking through open meadows brought us to a junction marked with a post.  There was no sign, but the trail to the left appeared to be headed for the basin of Grizzly Lake.  We continued ahead, still on a good trail, towards Handies Peak.

 

I was surprised to find a trail here.  I was relying on Gerry Roaches guidebook to the Colorado 14ers.  The route he describes in his book leaves the trail and continues cross-country up a steep slope to the ridge north of Handies.  Apparently, the trail to Handies is a new route, probably built as part of the Colorado 14ers initiative.  This initiative has built trails up some of the 14ers to protect the delicate tundra from being trampled.  I was thrilled that the trail was there for another reason.  Although our hike would be a little longer, it would almost certainly be easier.

 

We crossed a couple of streams and contoured around to the nose of a ridge.  We followed the ridge upwards, climbing gradually towards Handies’ north ridge.  Before long, the trail passed through a rockslide.  It was here that we began to hear the “MEEPS” of the pikas and the whistling of the marmots.  It had only taken Saucony a couple of days in Colorado to associate these sounds with the critters that emit them.  When we first heard them on the slope below Handies, Saucony followed her standard operating procedure.  This consists of looking around frantically for the source of the sound before bolting at full speed in a completely random direction.  Saucony certainly couldn’t see the marmots and pikas, and their sounds seemed to echo from every direction.  Her sense of smell didn’t seem to help, either.  I’m guessing that all of the rocks in that area reeked of rodent odor.

 

This provided entertainment for us, as well an opportunity to catch our breath.  Half the time, we’d watch her race right past a rock with a marmot perched on it.  Occasionally she would get lucky and manage to flush one, but she had no hope of catching it.  If she got close, it would simply disappear down a hole.  I have no doubt that the marmots were the absolute highlight of the trip for Saucony.  Even now, in our living room, I can emit a loud (and obviously fake) “MEEP”, and Saucony will run over to the window.  I’m not quite sure how to explain to her that we don’t have marmots or pikas in North Carolina.  She’s just going to have to settle for squirrels and perhaps the occasional groundhog.

 

Saucony eventually returned, and we resumed the climb.  Beyond the rockslide we crossed more tundra before reaching a series of switchbacks.  The well-graded route led upwards, to the ridge below and north of Handies Peak.  From a saddle on the ridge, we had our first great view of the hike.  To the north, Wetterhorn, Matterhorn, and Uncompahgre Peaks were easy to identify.  To the east, Redcloud and Sunshine rose beyond the Grizzly Creek valley.  Above us, a steep slope of talus and scree promised one final challenge before the summit.

 

It was already 10am, and the weather was threatening to worsen.  I picked up the pace from the saddle, attacking the final hill.  Fortunately, a long, gradual ridge leads the final hundred yards or so to the summit.  That ridge gave me the chance to catch my breath, which was good, since it’s bad form to arrive at the summit wheezing like a locomotive.

 

There were a few people on the summit when Saucony and I arrived.  I found a nice spot to enjoy the view where I could wait for Myron and Christy.  A few minutes later, the other folks on the summit departed, heading down towards the alternate trailhead in American Basin.  After they left, I actually had one of the premiere summits in the San Juan’s to myself.  In the silence, I allowed myself the opportunity to contemplate my surroundings.  Although it was cloudy, the view was still excellent.  Nothing but mountains extended from my perch in every direction.  To the south, the peaks and meadows of the Weminuche Wilderness extended to the horizon.  The only other things visible were the occasional lake and the dirt road winding its way up towards Cinnamon Pass far below.

 

Christy and Myron arrived a few minutes later, along with a family and another group.  We had an early lunch, and took some photos despite the clouds.  We all shared the summit until 11am, when cold rain and hail began to fall.  At that point, we had clearly overstayed our welcome, but it was a hard place to leave.  Finally, at 11:20, we began heading down.

 

The hike out was rather uneventful.  The rain stopped for a while, but resumed later.  Fortunately, there was no lightning to contend with.  We returned to the car by early afternoon, and decided against going for the triple-crown with an afternoon climb of Redcloud and Sunshine.  (To be honest, this was not something we were seriously considering).  We drove back down the mountain, but were treated to one more exciting encounter along the way.  We came around a bend, only to find a female Bighorn Sheep blocking the road.  Somehow, we managed some good photos out the window of the Xterra.

 

From there we headed past camp and towards Lake City.  Just beyond Lake San Cristobal, we stopped at a private campground that advertised showers.  We hadn’t had showers since arriving in Colorado, and we felt like we had earned them.  The campground caters to RV’s, but the showers ($5) and other facilities were excellent.  We emerged clean and dry, only to face another downpour.  At least this time we didn’t have to hike in it. 

 

We drove into Lake City, and stopped for dinner at Poker Alice.  Over Alice’s pizza and beer, we discussed our options for the remainder of the trip.  Originally we had planned on a 6-day backpacking trip in the Maroon Bells / Snowmass Wilderness.  We had all backpacked there before, in July of 2000.  On that trip, Christy and I had attempted, and failed, to climb Snowmass Mountain, another 14er.  Since then, Christy has been obsessed with returning for a successful climb.  I didn’t want to repeat the same trip, but I’d discovered a different route that would still allow us to climb Snowmass.  That route would loop through the northern part of the wilderness, taking us around Snowmass and Capitol Peak. 

 

Unfortunately, that route would also be extremely strenuous.  With Christy’s ongoing knee pain, we decided to save that route for another time.  So, what should we do with our final week in the Rockies?

 

We considered a number of options.  Another week of car camping and dayhiking was one possibility, but I think everyone wanted to do something different.  I suggested an easier backpacking trip.  In fact, over the last few days, I had even planned out a route.  I’ve wanted to check out the Weminuche Wilderness for several years now, and we weren’t far away.  The Weminuche route I had in mind would take us into some beautiful country, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as difficult as the trip we’d originally planned around Snowmass.  Christy approved of the change in plans, and Myron seemed generally agreeable to almost anything.  With that settled, we ordered another pitcher of beer and attacked the last of the pizza.

 

I slept well that night, thanks to mountain-climbing induced fatigue.  Myron, Christy, and our neighbors from Oklahoma weren’t so lucky.  The guys from Oklahoma had moved into the vacant campsite next to ours that evening.  That night, they implemented a campsite bear-proofing strategy I’d never heard of before.  This consisted of leaving all of their food outside, because, apparently, they were afraid that bears would break into their truck.  You can probably guess the rest.  Late that night, their campsite was visited by one of the bears that make a regular tour of the area looking for unguarded food.  A raid ensued, and the bear made off with all kinds of goodies, including potato chips and little powdered doughnuts.  I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he got away with the beer, too.

 

Of course, this didn’t all happen peacefully.  There was shouting and hollering, the beating of pots and pans, a spotlight, and the occasional hurled missile.  I’m guessing the bear wasn’t impressed.  In fact, I know he wasn’t, because he returned later for seconds.  This was easy, since all of the food was still outside.  As Carlos Mencia says, some people are simply “Dee Da Dee”.  Hey, at least the truck didn’t get broken into.  I’m sure those guys from Oklahoma didn’t sleep a wink the rest of the night.  I feel bad for them, but I can’t really relate.  To the amazement of my wife, I slept through the whole thing.




Continue reading about our trip to the Rockies in the summer of 2006 as we backpack in the Weminuche Wilderness Area.

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