2008 B-sides and Rarities

Ice Climbing at Coors Light, Clear Creek Canyon

I've got an ambitious race schedule in the first half of 2008. The San Juan Solstice 50 miler is clearly the biggie, but that's not until June. Plenty of time to train for that one later. The one that's got me nervous at the moment is the Moab Red Hot 50k race in mid-February. Back in the shape I was in last summer, such a run wouldn't have been that big a deal. But it's winter and I haven't trained nearly enough. Nor have I ever run that kind of distance before (34 miles).

Eric at Moore Park making for Estes Cone 1200' above.

The weather this winter has been consistently bad up in the mountains and I haven't spent much time out there at all. Saturday looked like it might be relatively okay, so Eric and I choose a low-elevation, mostly-treed summit, the mighty Estes Cone on the flanks of Longs Peak. We got a leisurely start from the popular Longs Peak TH at 10am where the weather was surprisingly good; no wind and scattered clouds. Fresh snow had fallen earlier in the week, but the trail was pretty well packed up to the junction. I've been up the Longs Peak trail at least half a dozen times before, but this was my first time headed north for the Cone. We followed mostly level and packed trail as far as Eugenia Mine where we stopped for a bite to eat.

From the mine, the trail was unbroken, but there was clearly a packed trail under the new snow. We hiked half a mile to Moore Park, then turned sharply left and made a bee-line through the trees for Storm Pass. Somewhere in there, we regained the trail and made steady progress up to Granite Pass at 10,240'. The trail from the pass to the summit was quite steep... and entirely absent in many places. Eventually, I gave up trying to follow faint signs of snowed-over trail and just struck out on the most likely looking lines myself. The snow varied from hard and shallow to deep and drifted and going was quite slow. About half way up, the number of rocks poking through the snow prompted us to stash the snowshoes and continue on foot. The rocky NW ridge was quite steep here and we spent a great deal of effort climbing snow-covered talus to a series of rocky knobs. Eventually, the slope eased and we slogged over to the highest knob... only to find that it wasn't the highest after all. The trail became apparent here and we followed a set of cairns through scattered, wind-blasted trees and up a short gully to the true summit.

Unfortunately, the weather had gone from passably nice to ominously bleak in the hours since we left the trailhead. The high peaks were now obscured and the wind had come up laden with light snow. We had a quick snack on the summit, before making our careful way back down to the snowshoes. Once we got back on the packed trail (packed by us on the way up), the retreat back to the car was easy enough. Still, it was a surprisingly tough climb and long day for only 7 miles of trail. Regardless, it was very nice to get out into the mountains for the first time in months.

Biking Heil Ranch

Kevin rides the Wapiti Trail old school. Check out that sweet horn!

Eric, Kevin and I headed up to Heil Ranch north of Boulder on Saturday morning. It's been a very long time since I did any real mountain biking, but ever since working with a mostly mountain biker trail building crew last fall, I've been meaning to get out there again. Plus, Amy and I rode Heil Ranch when we first moved here and I haven't been back since. This was Eric's first time on trails (he borrowed Amy's bike since his hybrid would probably have been destroyed). Kevin had ridden before, but was on an old no-suspension bike with slick tires.

Eric cruises the "zippy" Wild Turkey Trail.

We rode the first half mile of road as a warm-up, then hit the steadiy climbing Wapiti Trail. It winds through the woods alternating between extremely rocky and only moderately rocky. We were all winded on the way up, but I managed to ride pretty much everything. The day was beautiful and trail conditions ideal, especially for this early in the season. Once at the trail junction, we headed left on the Ponderosa Loop enjoying the mostly-level ground despite the rocks. We found one good view of Longs Peak and stopped for lunch before continuing on to the official viewpoint where the view is, frankly, not nearly as good.

From here, we took the new Wild Turkey Trail which makes a longer loop than simply returning on the other half of Ponderosa. The first half mile or so is fabulous smooth dirt trail zipping between trees like that scene from Return of the Jedi. Awesome! Even after that, it became technically much harder, but was still narrow and "zippy" without so many of the loose rocks found elsewhere in Heil. Moderate downhill gave way to another uphill slog.

Back at the junction, we steeled ourselves for the downhill run. It wasn't bad and II marveled at the difference even front shocks made. We reached the road part way down and Eric performed his first endo, landing unhurt amidst a nice little rock garden. Kevin, sans suspension, was getting hammered by the rocks and elected to take the road out. Despite his fall, Eric continued with me on the lower part of Wapiti. We met up with Kevin again at the road and all reached the cars shortly thereafter.

Vedauwoo, WY

A major Brute Stupidity expedition was planned for Vedauwoo. Fabio and I drove up for Saturday only, but many others were camping and climbing both days. Strangely, I was the most experienced Voo-climber going, so a lot of the planning fell on my relatively narrow shoulders. There was still quite a bit of snow in the shady areas, but the sun was hot and the rock pretty warm except in the deepest chimneys. Fabio and I showed up at 8:30 and met up with Scott, Rebecca, and Dan, heading to the sunny side of the Nautilus since it was close to the road, easy to find, and had an array of interesting climbs. We started by doing laps on the Etude slab (5.5) as the rest of the crew trickled in; Andy, Brian, Jeff & Dyan, Mike & Rachel, Cushman, and assorted offspring. With Andy belaying, Dan had himself an epic on the fiercely overhanging fist crack Flying Buttress (5.10b) while Fabio got stymied by the off-width crux of Stepladder (5.6).

After a quick lunch, the family-sorts headed out to set up camp and the climbers headed over to the NW side. We set up shop at Cornelius (5.5) where several people did leads of the excellant finger crack. No trip to the Voo would be complete without some off-width. Andy tackled Easy Jam (5.4) and several others did laps on it as well. Dan had himself another epic, this time on Hair Lip (5.9+), making it past the first rap station, but chickening out before reaching the official top of the route. Much to the surprise of all, I managed to thrash my way up to the first anchor to clean Dan's gear. It was a very physical climb requiring actual crack climbing skills, neither of which I have in abundance at the moment. Struggling upward, I realized that finishing the route would probably end my chances of climbing anything else for about a week. On the other hand, failing would probably result in the same outcome, so I might as well fight my way through it.

Dan having himself an epic on the Flying Buttress (5.10b) (photo by Scott Borger)

Yours Truly jamming like a mad man in Hair Lip (5.9+) (photo by Scott Borger)

Scott climbs Easy Jam (5.4). Cornelius is the finger crack to the right (photo by Fabio)

Tired from our route, Dan and I circumnavigated the Nautilus formation spying out nice-looking lines and then getting mired in the deep drifts on the north, shady side of the crag. By 4:30, we were all pretty tired. The gates were closed and the road to the main area blocked by extensive snow drifts. But we'd driven two hours each way, so the seven of us hiked in to see Walt's Wall and the other main features of the 'Voo. Dan, eager to not have an epic on something, scampered up the famous Edward's Crack (5.7) running out both pitches into one 70 meter push with about five pieces of gear. After some trepidation, Brian scampered up it and finished with a huge grin on his face. We then trudged back to the car and stopped by camp where the rest of the folks had established a homey presence.

Running on the Colorado Trail

The Good: Running the CT 10 miles from Kenosha Pass.

With the big San Juan Solstice 50 mile race coming up, I am desperate to get in long, tough training runs. Given the amount of snow we've had this year, it's hard to get up high this early and not find snow. Never-the-less, we decided to run segments 4 and 5 of the Colorado Trail, 31 miles of mostly down hill single track running between 8 and 11 thousand feet. Our group was five: Chris, Mike, Tressa, Joe, and myself.

The weather wasn't great as we left the car at Kenosha Pass, but the trail was reasonably clear. We got off on the wrong trail due to map reading errors (i.e., we didn't read the maps) and we wasted 4 miles before getting things right. Once on the right trail, we made pretty good time through the beautiful Lost Creek Wilderness.

The excitement started just before the Lost Gulch trailhead; roughly our half-way mark. We had encountered a few stretches of deep snow on north facing slopes in the trees. Going was slow, but not too bad. Climbing out of Lost Gulch, we again encountered serious snow and detoured up onto the rough but sunny slopes of Pt. 11130. We bushwhacked back down to the trail and finally ran along the north side of a sunny, 99% snow-free valley for about 8 miles making up a lot of lost time. I'd gone from feeling pretty crappy at mile 10 with visual migranes, general lethargy, indigestion, and so forth, to feeling pretty good at mile 25. We reached the end of the valley and rejoiced in the fact that we only had 8 miles to go to the cars.

The Bad: Postholing near Lost Gulch.

If it were only that easy! Leaving the valley meant getting back into the trees and the deep snowpack. The climb up to the crest of the Kenosha Range was easy enough, but demoralizing in the snow. But dropping down the back side was where things got interesting and scary. We were on a steep, tree-covered north-facing slope. The snow was knee to hip deep sugar with a half-inch of unstable icy crust covering the top. Our progress slowed to less than a mile an hour. With only two hours of daylight left to cover seven miles, that was a problem! Furthermore, due to communication errors, we ended up each making our way down the slope separately.

Finally four of the five of us reconvened and reflected on how serious our situation had become. I was the only person with a headlamp. Joe had a lighter. We had a couple of maps and a GPS. Most importantly, we were missing Mike and he and I were wearing shorts. None of us was particularly prepared to spend the night out and it was already getting pretty cold.

The Ugly: This is what postholing for miles through icy crust does to your legs.

Weighing our options, we decided that our first priority had to be getting as many people out of danger as possible. We gave up on the trail and headed north toward the drainage of the Bluestem Creek on the theory that the south-facing north side would have less snow than anywhere else. Fortunately, this turned out to be correct and we bushwhacked along the creek for a couple miles through dense blowdowns and loose side-slopes. At least we were moving fast and losing elevation.

We discussed options and decided to get back to the car, call up friends with more appropriate gear and mount a rescue if Mike didn't beat us back. Things looked grim. Suddenly we heard a shout from behind us and there was Mike standing on a rock 100' up the slope. A tremendous weight was palpably lifted off our shoulders. We would all survive this, despite how unpleasant it might be. Mike was covered in blood from the knees down, product of all the icy crust he'd been breaking through in shorts. His first words to me were "I need a camera". Mike was clearly okay.

The rest of the trip out was no fun, but at least uneventful. We made good time down to the Payne Creek Trail where we headed south for a mile or two and regained the CT. The elevation was low enough now that most of the snow was gone and it was a reasonably simple three miles from there down to the car. Daylight was gone with a mile and a half left, so we limped in under the power of my headlamp.

Spring Skiing in RMNP

Another typical June weekend and another choice between a long trail run, an alpine climb, or a ski trip. What?! You heard me, a ski trip. How could I pass up an offer like that? Backcountry skiing is something I've been kicking around for a while, but keep deciding not to take up. The gear is more expensive than I can really justify for a couple days of fun a year and I'm not really a good enough skier to do anything but glorified cross-country skiing anyway.

Mts. Chapin, Chiquita, and Ypsilon in RMNP

Matt (#3), Chai (#1) and myself (#53) after the race.

I've been a little busy lately with establishing a patriarchy and all, but this was too good to pass up: a ten mile "trail" race that went practically past my front door. After two months of not running so much, ten miles seemed doable, and several of my friends and neighbors were also involved. Why not?