UNFINISHED BUSINESS

On the last day of our trip, I got my work schedule for the rest of July. I was scheduled to work in Denver 8 days after returning home. The timing was funny, but I was thrilled. There were several hikes in Colorado that we hadn’t had time for. My job was scheduled for 4 days, so I booked my return flight home for late Saturday night. That would give me a couple of free days for some bonus hiking.

Inexplicably, I was feeling pretty down that Monday, even though I was back on Mountain Time. How could I be depressed in Denver? At first I thought I was just tired, but of course it was just the usual post-vacation hangover kicking in. For some reason I didn’t feel it during my first week back, but it kicked in with a vengeance that Monday. Fortunately, the job went well and the people I worked with were great. By Wednesday I was ready to get back to the mountains. I finished up my assignment Thursday afternoon and headed west. My plan was to spend a couple of days in the Holy Cross Wilderness. My friend David and I had hiked to the summit of Mount of the Holy Cross (14,005’) on the final day of our trip. My primary goal was to hike up Notch Mountain to view the cross on Mount of the Holy Cross. We had summited the peak successfully, but somehow that seemed incomplete without viewing the mountain’s namesake. Unfortunately, the cross is only visible from a handful of places – mainly remote mountain tops. Notch Mountain offers the best view, and the summit is attainable in a day.

That doesn’t mean that the hike up Notch Mountain is easy. The hut on Notch Mountain, in a saddle below the summit, is at 13,100’. Although I’d spent the last week of our vacation at high elevation, the benefit of that was long gone. Three nights in Denver (5,200’) were helpful, but it would be a big jump to 13K from there. I decided to ease into it with a hike that is a little lower. The other hike I’d really wanted to do during our trip was a loop combining Missouri Lakes, Missouri Pass, Treasure Vault Lake, Fancy Pass, and Fancy Lake. That loop is 12 miles, and it tops out around 12,400’.

I could’ve done both hikes as dayhikes and car camped each night. Staying at a developed campground would’ve given me a picnic table, a firepit, and access to an outhouse for $40. I prefer backpacking for free.

I had hoped to finish up at work by 2pm, but it was closer to 3:30 when I left Denver. I made a quick stop at the REI in Silverthorne to get stove fuel and a couple of freeze dried dinners. Then I drove through Minturn and headed towards the Holy Cross Wilderness. The entire way I found myself driving towards a wall of black clouds. The weather forecast wasn’t appealing, either. Earlier in the week, there had actually been a 100% of storms on Friday. That had dropped to 80% for both Thursday evening and Friday, but it didn’t look encouraging.

Oddly, that black wall never moved. I drove up a (mostly) good dirt road to the trailhead for Missouri Lakes and Fancy Lakes. It drizzled briefly, but that was it. I loaded my backpack in the parking lot and prepared the hit the trail. My plan had been to hike up to Fancy Lake and camp. I’d then hiked over both passes and descend to the Missouri Lakes on Friday. For some reason, at the last minute, I decided to flip it around. I’m not sure why, exactly. The hike to Missouri Lakes is slightly shorter. Maybe that’s what it was. Really though, it was just a gut feeling. I should go the other way….so I did.

I left the trailhead a bit after 7, hopeful I could backpack 3 miles uphill at high elevation and arrive before dark. That wasn’t realistic, but I was getting close to treeline when I finally broke out the headlamp. I didn’t see anyone on the hike in, but I saw a few scattered lights when I neared the first (lowest) of the Missouri Lakes. Looking for a campsite in the dark in an unfamiliar area is challenging, but I stuck with my instincts. Shortly after passing a group of guys camped next to the trail, I wandered off towards the mouth of a series of tarns. I found decent spot in a stand of Whitebark pine, on a knoll above a cascading creek. I pitched the tent, fetched and filtered water, and made dinner. Due to my late arrival, it was 11 before I went to bed, long after the lights of my distant neighbors had disappeared.

I may have been the last one to bed, but I was probably the first one up. I set the alarm for 5:30 so I could spend some time taking photos. I didn’t have much time to kill. There was an 80% chance of afternoon storms on Friday, and I had 5-6 miles of alpine terrain ahead of me. The early start was worth it. I’d arrived in the dark the previous evening, and seeing the Missouri Lakes Basin at first light was a revelation. It is glorious! Even better, I caught beautiful alpenglow on Savage Peak. That was something I’d missed from our vacation. It’s an easy thing to miss, too, as it only happens in certain places at the right time, and it only lasts a few minutes.

I returned to camp, had coffee and granola, and packed up. I headed out at 7:15. My various neighbors were just getting up. The climb up to Missouri Pass was fairly easy, though I had to do a little bit of rock scrambling to avoid a snowfield. The views were great the whole way up, out over the Missouri Lakes Basin. From the pass, I had my first views to the west, over the alpine meadows surrounding Treasure Vault Lake to the next range of mountains beyond. After a short break, I descended towards the lake. I was just above it when I saw something new. A startling sound got my attention, and when I looked over my shoulder, I saw two marmots on their hind legs, wrestling. Chicken fighting marmots. Of course they stopped right before I got the camera out. One marmot disappeared, but the victor stuck around for photos.

The climb to Fancy Pass didn’t take as long as expected. I took a break there at 10am and enjoyed my final views to the west. There wasn’t much to see to the east, as the view is rather restricted by cliffs on both sides of the pass. I descended briefly before realizing that the route ahead was in a steep snow-covered chute. Hmmm. It looked sketchy, and I didn’t have my ice axe or any sort of traction device. Going all the way back was unappealing, and potentially hazardous, given the weather forecast. I decided to try to skirt the snowfield on the left side. I could see that the entire snowfield wasn’t avoidable, but I was hopeful that it would get me past the steepest part. I scrambled down to the end of the rocks and started into the snow. The steepest stretch was still below me. The rocks on the far side extended farther down. I decided try that side.

I climbed back up, crossed the snow chute, and began to descend along the rocks. Many of them were wet and slick from recently melted snow. Still, this route got me much farther down. At the end of them it was still steep and snow-covered. I worked my way down slowly. I slipped once and began to slide, but luckily I was just uphill from a big rock. I used it to stop myself, and took a break there. After that, I experienced a few nervous moments but no major problems. When I reached the bottom of the chute I looked back up at the snow-filled gully I’d descended. It had been scary, but I’d made it. At least I had done it downhill. I don’t think there is any way I could have climbed it without crampons. It was steep enough that it would’ve been necessary to kick steps in the snow the whole way up. I would’ve been nervous about slipping and hurtling back down the slope. If I’d stuck to the original plan and gone counter-clockwise I would’ve turned around right there. My last second change in plans, based on nothing more than a gut feeling, had saved the trip.

I descended through a field of wildflowers and met a pair of dayhikers. They were the first people I’d seen since leaving Missouri Lakes early that morning. They were planning to hike to the base of the snow chute, as they’d heard that the route beyond was impassable. I didn’t argue with them. I continued on, descending to Fancy Lake. Just before reaching it, I passed a junction with a trail leading to Holy Cross City. Holy Cross City is an old mining settlement turned ghost town. That would have been interesting to see, but I had some time constraints. This was a work day, and I needed to drive back into civilization that afternoon to check in with my boss. I’ll have to save the ghost town for another visit.

I had lunch at Fancy Lake, which is scenic but less expansive than the Missouri Lakes. The bugs were terrible there, too. If they were that bad at noon, I can’t imagine what they would’ve been like in the morning and evening. Once again, I was glad I’d hiked clockwise and camped at Missouri Lakes.

After lunch I left Fancy Lake but initially followed the wrong trail. I doubled-back to the correct path, which is on the left side of the lake’s outlet when facing downstream. Before long I entered the woods. My timing was good, as a series of thunderstorms passed through during the hike out. As is typical in the Colorado Rockies, there was a lot of lightning and thunder but only a little rain. I reached the car early that afternoon and drove back towards Minturn. A few miles before town I got a good cell signal. I checked in with my wife and went through my work email. I was in the clear, and even the weather seemed to be improving. The pulloff had a direct view of Notch Mountain, which was my goal for Saturday morning. When I arrived it was capped with black clouds, but the sky had brightened considerably. Unfortunately, the forecast was less promising. The Weather Channel showed an 80% chance of thunderstorms through midnight.

Notch Mountain is famous because it is one of only a few places where the namesake cross on Mount of the Holy Cross can be seen. My friend David and I had climbed Mount of the Holy Cross 2 weeks earlier. At the time I’d wanted to attempt a longer route, called “The Halo”, that also includes Notch Mountain. That would’ve allowed us to view the cross before we climbed the peak. However, a marginal weather forecast and time constraints had forced us to stick with the standard approach. Since I was back in Colorado, I wanted to complete the mission by hiking up to Notch Mountain to view the cross. The cross was first documented in a photo by William Henry Jackson on August 23rd, 1873. These days, you have to visit much earlier in the summer to see the cross – a testament to how much more snow there was 140+ years ago.

I was torn. I wanted to hike up to the top of Notch Mountain that evening so that I could be there for sunrise Saturday morning. However, Notch Mountain is over 13K, which is well above treeline. It would be a dangerous place if more storms rolled through. There is a stone hut there with a lightning rod, but camping is no longer allowed in it. Also, I wasn’t sure if I was acclimated enough to the altitude to spend the night at 13K. That might be pushing it. A safer choice would have been car camping along the road to the trailhead. I had my backpacking gear though, and I really didn’t want to car camp. Ultimately I compromised. I would backpack in a few miles and camp just below treeline. That would be reasonably safe even if more storms passed through. If I was feeling up for it, I could get up at 4am and hike to the top in time for sunrise. If not, I’d get up there later.

I was a couple of miles up the road when I passed an older woman and a dog sitting on the shoulder. She had a large backpack, and she half-heartedly stuck her thumb out. I’d never picked up a hitchhiker, but for some reason I stopped. She was obviously a hiker, and she looked like she’d been through hell. She was dirty and clearly exhausted. She asked if she could get a ride to her truck, which was 6 miles farther up the road, at the trailhead for both Notch Mountain and Mount of the Holy Cross.

I found room for her pack and she got into the back seat with the dog. As I drove, she told me her story. She had set out a couple of days ago to do a long (4 or 5 days) loop around Mount of the Holy Cross. Her planned route started and ended at the Halfmoon Trailhead. She had intended to hike over Halfmoon Pass and down to East Cross Creek. There she had gone off-trail, bushwhacking downstream to connect with the Cross Creek Trail. The Cross Creek Trail runs through the valley to the west of Mount of the Holy Cross. Farther south, it is possible to cross Fancy Pass and connect with the Fall Creek Trail at Holy Cross City. The Fall Creek Trail runs all the way back to Halfmoon Pass.

The funny thing about this is that I had contemplated a similar trip. I didn’t have time for it on this occasion, but it was definitely a route I had looked at. It hadn’t gone well for her though. She’d gotten lost while bushwhacking down towards Cross Creek. She spent an unplanned night in the woods uncertain of her location. She reached Cross Creek the next day, but well downstream from her intended route. Then she tried to ford Cross Creek to reach the trail on the far side. She had the dog (her sister’s dog, actually) on a leash during the crossing. However, the dog panicked and slipped out of his color. He was then swept away. Luckily she found him a few hours later, unscathed. At that point she was so far behind schedule that she abandoned her original plan. She hiked downstream on the Cross Creek Trail almost all the way to the town of Minturn. Then she had picked up another trail, which had brought her to the road where I had found her. She had actually camped a few miles down that trail the previous night. That morning she had been so exhausted that she had hiked out without her camping gear. That meant that she would have to hike back for it that evening, or the next day.

I dropped her off at her truck and reloaded my pack. I hiked the Fall Creek Trail, which was mostly a plod through an endless expanse of Lodgepole Pine. There was one really nice view towards the Gore Range from an open slope, but most of the trail wasn’t very interesting. After an hour or so I reached an illegal campsite at the junction with the Fall Creek Trail and the trail up Notch Mountain. It would’ve been convenient, but it was right next to the trail, which is a violation of the rules. I was still a long way below treeline, so I decided to continue. This plan nearly backfired. I didn’t pass any campsites on the way to treeline. I finally emerged from the woods at the edge of a vast meadow. There is a small stream here – the last water source on the climb. I was hoping for a campsite near it, but several minutes of searching didn’t turn anything up. Continuing higher wasn’t an option due to the sketchy weather. There hadn’t been any rain over the last few hours, but it was overcast and it could still storm at any time. I crossed the meadow but dropped down towards the trees along its lower end. I found a previously used campsite in the meadow near the trees, and a tiny but sheltered spot for my tent under a stand of trees. The spot was cozy and the location was ideal. I settled in, pitching the tent, fetching water, and starting on dinner. A round of showers did pass through right when I started eating, but I was able to huddle under a tree out of the rain. Afterwards a queer, chilly fog descended over the meadow. It was starting to get dark, too, so I headed to bed.

The alarm went off at 4am but I dismissed it. I was way too tired to get up and hike up the mountain in the dark. That turned out to be a good decision. I woke a couple of hours later, at first light. My timing was perfect, as I was treated to some nice color on the eastern horizon. However, the clouds had persisted all night, so there was no actual sunrise. I’m not sure if Mount of the Holy Cross catches alpenglow on a clear morning, but it would’ve been much too cloudy for that to occur on this day. I was really glad that I didn’t get up at 4am for nothing.

I had granola cereal and coffee for breakfast before starting my hike. I passed one hiker heading down about halfway up. I didn’t see anyone else until I was on my way back down. The hike from camp was a steady climb, mainly on switchbacks. I climbed above treeline quickly and enjoyed uninterrupted views the rest of the way. I reached the crest of the ridge around mid-morning. I headed over to the shelter, but found that the door was either locked from the inside or jammed. I couldn’t budge it. It’s lucky I hadn’t hiked up there the previous evening, since I would’ve been relying on that hut if a storm had developed.

The view of the cross from there is a good one, but I found that the angle was a little better closer to the summit of Notch Mountain. I scrambled up the talus to the north, heading towards the true summit. I followed an escarpment of cliffs before reaching the namesake notch. The notch is a huge gash in the mountain – a gash separating me from the actual summit. Downclimbing there looked terrifying. Allegedly it is a class IV descent, but only if you stay precisely on route. If you get off the route, it quickly becomes a class V+ down climb. No thanks.

I returned to the hut and briefly considered following the ridge to the south to the next peak. Clouds were already building to the west though. I headed back down and stopped at camp for lunch. Then I packed up and hiked back down to the trailhead. From there I drove back to Denver and stopped at David’s place. I took a shower there and then we went for a walk around downtown Denver. We had dinner and a couple of beers with a friend of his before we parted ways. I headed back to the airport, thrilled that I was able to spend a few extra days in the Colorado Rockies.

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