Mt. Massive physical challenge becomes 17th 14er

Last Friday Tim, Brian, Trey and I headed south from Boulder towards Leadville after work with hopes of hiking Mt. Massive's standard trail, the East Slopes route. Massive is the 3rd highest peak in the lower 48, below only Mt. Whitney in CA and CO's highpoint, Elbert (Massive's neighbor to the south). Given our time constraints, logistics, etc. Massive seemed like a good choice. On the drive down we worked our way backwards from a hard deadline of 4pm return to Boulder after hiking to determine we needed to be back to the trailhead by 1pm at the very latest. With 7 miles of hiking each way to cover, we needed to start as early as possible and run whatever portions of the trail that we could. With that in mind, I left the boots in the car and opted to go as light as possible, with trail running shoes at the ready. Having never run a long distance at 10,000' or 13,000' of elevation, I was curious to see what my legs and lungs were capable of. I have been running/riding/training much more this year than previous summers, so my legs and lungs are probably in the best shape of my life, which gave me a glimmer of hope. I thought it would be possible, but still realized this was not going to be like any other 14er I had attempted before. A new spin on the same old thing, if you will... making class I and class II hiking a bit more interesting... It was going to be a physical challenge and a race against the clock. We found a nice campsight within a mile of the trailhead and set the alarm for 5am.

At 6:05 we set out from the trailhead on the Colorado Trail at approx. 10,100' of elevation. I had to stop almost immediately for my morning ritual... bummer. I guess it's good that I have a body you could just about set your watch to for certain biological actions, but this was a bit annoying to say the least. Once I caught up to the group again, we began trail running. In hindsight, I think the first mile is the steepest of the 7 miles, which is bizarre given the Colorado Trail is usually gentle and flat. This did not bode well for my chances of keeping up with the group. Luckily, however, after the first mile the trail flattens or even descends, so I took advantage of that wherever possible. Despite the downhill/flat, those first 3 miles gain roughly 1,000' of elevation. I was very relieved to come upon creek crossings which ostensibly mark miles 2 and 3, and made it to mile 3 in about 55 minutes, apparently only just a few minutes behind the rest of the group. It generally takes my body much longer to get warmed up than Trey, Tim and Brian, so I was happy to have not slowed them down too much at that point.

We took a quick break for breakfast and then continued another minute or two to the split where we left the Colorado Trail. From there the trail becomes a soft dirt/pine needle mix for a few minutes until you reach treeline and find a soft muddy trail weaving through willows up to Point 12,466' that marks the final shelf, beyond which the Massive trail becomes a fairly steady grade up to the saddle at 14,000'. We took breaks every once in a while to eat and apply sunscreen, but we were all happy to find the trail fairly soft and consistent - i.e. able to be run on the way down. I was also happy to discover what time it was every time we stopped... I kept thinking it would be an hour or more later than what Trey told me, so I was happy to hear we were on pace to make our 1pm cutoff. At roughly 13,500' I began to feel the effects of altitude in the way of slightly sore legs (from the trail running) and typical shortness of breath. The sight of the other 3 guys ahead of me pushed me on, quicker than I would have normally gone without time constraints or faster party members. Altitude didn't slow me down too badly, and I was on the summit at 9:30. That was definitely my earliest 14er summit yet. I was happy to have done the first 7 miles in 3:30 including all breaks, and felt very confident we could make it down in time even if only walking.

I didn't stay on the summit very long despite perfect weather. At 9:45 we turned around towards the saddle, where we hoped to start running from. I don't know exactly what happened, but I stopped to tie my shoe in preparation for running and all of the sudden could not see anybody else in the group. Eager to catch up, I took off, discovering that perhaps trail running 14er descents is the best way to do them... my knees felt great, and it was simply a matter of letting my legs do what they wanted to do without halting momentum. I had only to spot my next foot plant, and the rest was fairly natural. My legs and lungs felt great when I finally caught up to Trey and Tim, who had stopped to wait for me at treeline. We all commented that the trail was really good for running, and noted that although there were some uphill stretches in the trees below us, the soft trail would be very manageable for the last 3 miles. With 11 miles on my legs already, I definitely began to tire, and was forced to walk some sections - even downhill - in the last two miles. I knew Brian was way ahead of me, though, and would be ready to hit the road as soon as possible to prevent arriving at DIA late. I kept this in my mind, and walked as little as possible. There came a point where walking hurt as bad or worse than running, so I just kept running. By that point it was as much of a mental challenge to push on, so I was happy (in a slightly sadistic way) to get to the point where my mind forced my body to go beyond typical limits... good practice for the future, I think.

After being flagged down by a guy who had questions about the trail (hoping to make my same trip on his own tomorrow) just a few hundred yards short of the trailhead, I made it back from the summit in 2 hours flat. All told, I had gone 14 miles in 5 hours and 45 minutes, including bathroom/food/summit/blister maintenance breaks. For comparison, it took me 11 and a half hours to hike the 15 miles that Longs Peak required a few summers ago. Needless to say, I was happy with the performance. We dunked our feet in the river by the trailhead and were on the road before noon, a full hour ahead of schedule. While I still don't consider myself a good runner, I feel like my legs are getting stronger and know for certain that my lungs are continuing to get into better shape. Here's hoping that trend continues in preparation for the next physical challenge...

The few pictures I did get are available at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/brett_burch/sets/72157624417086953. Enjoy.

July 3rd Blanca / Ellingwood attempt

On Friday myself, Brian and Trey headed south to start the long Independence Day weekend by heading to the Blanca massif to climb two of the Sangre de Cristo range's 14ers; Ellingwood and Blanca. Driving into the town of Blanca (and for miles before/after), the Blanca massif looms enormously and intimidatingly above the dry valley floor. I really can't say enough how different it is to approach a mountain like Blanca or even Princeton (where the entire massif has such great relief) than a mountain like Bierstadt, for example. After some slight confusion around whether we made the turn onto the correct dirt road, and honking to move cows, we started up the infamous "road" with a few hours of sunlight remaining. Ultimately I was not up to the challenge and stopped the Jeep well short of where we probably could have made it before the road would have been too much for El Jefe. Regardless, with only about 90 minutes of light remaining, we hoped we would make it the remaining 3 miles to Lake Como... After locking the Jeep and actually hiking to a campsight for the first time since moving to Colorado, we shouldered our backpacks and made it about half way, stopping at a vacant campground in an aspen grove at the final crest of the road before it becomes more than something a stock 4WD SUV could handle. I was fairly spent. It's amazing what simply adding a tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad will feel like on your back.... not as bad as skis, but still heavy. I also hadn't really planned on hiking very far, and hadn't eaten/drank anything in preparation for the hike. [Note to self, don't take approaches for granted.]

After dinner and a fire with clouds rolling in, we went to bed. We got rained on fairly hard in the night and woke up at 5am for a 6:05 departure time. It was almost funny hiking the first mile or so beyond our campsight. If we had known the road was flat or even downhill from where we stayed, we might have continued the night before, but nowhere we passed was as good as where we stayed for two tents, and the light was running out on us, so I think it was best that we stopped where we did. Lake Como road is historically interesting. Along the way you pass sections of road where people have died trying to drive over one rock form or another (including old Jeep parts downhill from said accident site) and old mining homesteads along the creek. We made it to the lake in 80 minutes; I was last to make it after having stopped several times for photos along the road. The setting at Lake Como is really awe-inspiring... Little Bear Peak looms above Lake Como, with trout in it and bear nearby. At some point I wouldn't mind just hanging out by that lake for a whole weekend. It was also the setting for a Jeep commercial; no other vehicles made it to the lake while we were there. You can't just drive up to Lake Como in your 4Runner, take a few photos, and drive on like you can with Mt. Evans. I like the Blanca massif for the same reason I liked hiking Longs Peak; you have to earn it in just about every way.

Beyond the lake, the road dissipates into a trail near a waterfall. By the time you climb above the waterfall, you're surrounded on all sides by ramparts defending nearby peaks and you hike past lakes full of ice... in July. The scenery evoked a sense of seclusion and challenge, and the hike changed to a climb, much like Castle last September. This was more than simply following a trail up a big mound. I really liked it. It was actually somewhat daunting, and the photos do not do justice to what you see there. By that point, I was super excited about the day and being able to prove to myself that I could take on harder and more remote peaks, as well as the possibility of achieving 1/3 completion (this would make 18/54) of Colorado's 14ers... it seemed merely a matter of time before post-climb beers were in order. However, looking above us and down the valley back to the desert, it became obvious that our weather window was rapidly shrinking. At 9am, after stopping and debating several times about course of action, we turned around. We were at 13,000' right below the Crater Lake ledges/waterfall, with several hours before noon... but clouds had built up in the valley and rolled up to right above us. Literally no more than 300' above us another party was surrounded by clouds. I believe if there had not been clouds, we would have made great time and made it to the top of both Blanca and Ellingwood, but it simply wasn't in the cards for us. To be honest, it was very frustrating and difficult to accept turning around. I've had to turn around or not attempt before due to vehicle issues or another person in the party being unable to continue... both those times were easier to accept. It was nothing we did to ourselves; it was beyond our control. We knew there was rain in the forecast, had been rained on the night before, and did not see any possibility of the clouds burning off. By the time we made it back to Lake Como, the peaks were relatively free of clouds, and it seemed like a nice clear day above us. That being said, however, it was a good lesson learned, and I would make the same decision again. When it comes to lightning, I would rather make the wrong safe decision than the wrong dangerous one. But still...

We made our way back down to the previous night's campsight, packed up wet tents and hiked back to the Jeep. It was a much less stressful drive out... something about gravity, I think.

Given the long weekend and the opportunity to reflect on recent events, I've started to wonder and/or realize a few things about myself.

• It was good to know that I can make myself turn around due to weather. It was pretty ominous when we made the call, and it cleared up quickly, but it was good to have been able to do it rather than pushed on only to regret it later.
  
• I will (hopefully?) never stop enjoying merely hiking in the mountains, but it seems lately that I am curious to try more difficult routes up 14ers. For example, I want to ascend the Bell Cord when I make it to the Bells. I want to take routes that require more thinking than "follow the obvious foot path..." to the top. Don't get me wrong; even merely hiking a 14er takes a great deal of energy, preparation, mental stamina, etc... but after having done that 15 times, I want to push myself a little bit more. Even if it just means hiking outside of the easier summer months, I think I'm finally ready both physically and mentally. I also think that it has something to do with getting away from crowds. The view from Lake Como and beyond on Saturday was truly incredible, and seems more so because it must be earned.
• My greatest physical passion of any that I pursue is skiing. I do several things better than skiing, but nothing gives me greater satisfaction. I could ski every day for more days than I care to consider before it became mundane. A lot of my summer activities (especially running... 99% of the time I really hate running, as in, definitely hate, hate with italics) are solely to improve my potential to ski better. I'm not ready physically yet, but similar to the above point, I'd like to ski some 14ers when I am.
• I don't really desire to hike all 54 of Colorado's 14ers just to say that I have hiked them all. I don't really understand that motivation, or at least don't want to associate myself with it. If I am just hiking to be able to add another notch to my brag belt, I'm out there for the wrong reason. I want to climb them in a way that's challenging to me. (Obviously in the first part of the season after having not been at altitude, even the standard routes can be challenging enough, so this does not always exclude standard class 1 or 2 routes.) To that end, I have started to wonder if I shouldn't spend more time in the Indian Peaks nearby, where there are plenty of challenging 12ers or 13er peaks which are more challenging than most 14ers.