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.
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