Spring in Colorado has been more fickle than usual this year but things seem to finally have evened out. With a clearing weather forecast, we made plans to climb Taylor Peak in RMNP with a number of SummitPost.org people. We would hike it to Loch Vale and camp for the night (practice for longer trips later in the season), then climb the Andrews Glacier to Taylor Peak on Sunday. Another group would start early from the trailhead on Sunday morning and catch up with us.

We met Peter, Bill, and Analeen at the Backcountry office at a leisurely 9am and dealt with all the required beaurocracy. Bill had flown in from Chicago the day before and was anxious to get going on his planned four nights of backcountry camping and backpacking. The various vales and cirques high on the Divide looked ominous on the way in and we arrived at the Glacier Gorge trailhead to strong winds, low visibility, and blowing snow. Uggg!

Luck was with us and the weather started to clear as we geared up and headed out with heavy, over-stuffed packs. The trail was in good condition with packed snow and bits of bare ground here and there. We passed a Kiwi couple up at Alberta falls wearing shorts and sneakers. The weather alternated blowing snow and clouds with beautiful, breezy blue skies. The weather was quite warm and the snow very slushy.

At length, we reached the turnoff for the Loch from the main Glacier Gorge trail; virgin territory for most of us though Peter had been up this way a few weeks before. We climbed up packed snowy trails and emerged at the windy, frozen Loch amidst spectacular, wintery scenery. Just then a pair wearing running shorts and sneekers passed us....

Bill, Peter, and Analeen crossing the Loch during a brief window of good weather.	Just when you think you've seen everything...

We stopped for a quick bit of lunch before pushing on another mile up toward Andrew's Tarn (and glacier) and the established campsite. The time was early and we figured to cut some milage off tomorrow's adventures. It started to snow again and Peter lead the way following a single set of tracks up the slopes to the north of the Loch. We passed some old sun-wheels (snowballs which have rolled down steep slopes and aquired a disk or toroidal structure; a good sign of wet snow avalanche danger) that were easily a foot or more in diameter; the biggest I've ever seen!

The track we were following soon cliffed out and we saw the creek valley below us. I took over the lead and brought us through brush and steep slopes down to where a well-trodden trail ambled beside the frozen stream. A quarter mile later, we ran into Chris, another summitposter who had mentioned he might join us. It was still snowing steadily and we soon found a decent campsite.

Amy and I grabbed a spot between two mighty spruce trees and started excavations. We dug out a ten foot diameter hole about two feet deep and piled the resulting big blocks of snow around the edges. The final result was a very handsome homestead with 4' high walls to shelter us from the wind. Peter and Analeen were engaged in similar activities on the other side of the clearing. Bill, travelling light, set up his borrowed bivy sack over in the trees and Chris quickly erected his winter mountaineering tent using his skis to hold it in place. With all this activity completed by mid-afternoon, Chris and I excavated a communal kitchen area with bench seating and a central table. Snow is wonderful stuff!

Some large sunwheels near the Loch. They actually are toroidal!	Chris lounges in our newly-constructed kitchen and dining area with the master bedroom behind.

Unfortunately, it was still far too early to eat dinner and retire to the tents. Four of us set out for an exploratory hike and wandered up the creek about half a mile. The weather was still snowy and windy with little or no visibility. We got back to camp, retired to the tents for an hour or two, and finally emerged at 6:30 to cook a social but chilly dinner.

Amy and Bill retreating from the Loch on Sunday morning.

Temperatures never dropped much below freezing at night, but the wind howled steadily and I was glad for the tent and warm sleeping bags. We woke in the morning with a good six inches of snow piled on the edges of the tent and most of the kitchen area completely filled in. Bill in his bivy bag had had a very long, miserable night and commented that he had changed his plans from spending four nights camping to spending only one camping. The weather had not improved in the night and no one, even the experienced and nonchallant Chris had any desire to attempt the rest of the climb in this weather. We packed and set out back down the trail, yesterday's tracks now completely covered in snow.

The hike out was nice enough with some bleak, wintery scenery. Conditions improved the farther we got from the Divide and by the time we got back to the trailhead, things were mearly gray and overcast. The crew that was supposed to hike in on Sunday met us at the trailhead (having hiked up to Dream Lake instead), and we retired to Estes Park for a round of triumphant pizzas anyway. Oh well, at least we got some good camping in.

Bill was quite unhappy, having flown all the way from Illinios for the occasion and only gotten one miserable night in the woods. He came back to our house and we spent the afternoon drying gear in the gorgeously hot and sunny back yard. We made plans to climb Mount Lady Washington on Monday. This is a mountain both Bill and I have been twarted on in previous attempts by high winds and bad weather. It's a pretty moderate climb with spectacular views of Longs and Meeker.

Mount Lady Washington

May 9, 2005

We arrived at the Longs Peak TH before 7am in warm, windless, sunny skies. This was my fourth time up this trail and Bill's third, so we wasted little time looking around. By 9am we had reached tree line (where the usual wind and weather-related challenges begin), and emerged on hard-packed snow into the spectacular views. Lady Washington sat before us like a rounded hump in front of the toothy vissages of Longs and Meeker. That didn't look so bad! Still, great vortices of clouds split and tumbled around the summits and the weather looked unstable. After the last two days, we were feeling paranoid about weather.

Heading up toward Mount Lady Washington with the Diamond of Longs Peak in the distance. The east ridge is on the left.

The snow was fairly patchy and hard enough to walk on anyway, so we stashed our snowshoes at a trail junction and proceeded on boots and crampons. We headed across the broad flats east of Mt. Lady W. on our way to the east face and ridge when we noticed a pair of skiers descending from Granite Pass on the right. Soon they pulled to a stop in front of us grinning from ear to ear.

"We just skied the North Face!" one exclaimed.

"From the summit?" I asked. The North Face route is a technical climb in the summer and the ski descent in the winter is, while not unknown, still a notable event whenever it happens.

"Yeah! It was *&@#$%ing terrifying!" Wow. I'm officially impressed!

We continued climbing an increasingly steep snow slope up toward the crest of the Mills Moraine and Lady W. east ridge route. The snow was warming quickly and it balled up in our crampons quite mightily. Finally reaching the ridgeline at 12,200' at 10:50, we paused for a first lunch and stowed crampons. The ridge ahead looked pretty easy and not that tall, but a quick look at the map showed us we still had 1000' of vertical to do.

Bill and I alternated kicking steps up the 30-35 degree snow slope stepping on rocks when possible. Each hundred feet of elevation gain was noted and we were grateful that the weather was still good. At around 13,000', the slope became quite steep and we began to worry about wet snow slides. We took to the rocks instead and scrambled up some lovely class 3-ish sections. When the slope finally abated at 13,200', we'd reached the summit ridge and could finally see the view.

Bill climbs snow toward the ridge at 12,000'. The Mummy Range is in the distance.

Bill arrives at 12,200' and a well-deserved lunch break.

The north face of Mount Meeker is a wild-looking array of spires and pinnacles.

Climbing the east ridge on our way to the summit. Slope angle here is about 30 degrees.

The summit view on a peak is a very special thing. For hours you've been toiling away seeing half the view (and that is behind you as well) when suddenly you emerge at the top and the rest of the world comes into view. The sudden summit view you get on the East Ridge of Lady Washington is the most dramatic I have ever seen. Wham! Suddenly, the huge expanse of Mount Meeker's north face, the Loft, Chasm Lake, and the huge, incredible Diamond of Longs Peak are presented before you just hanging in space, your's to peruse from the vantage of a soaring hawk. Simply incredible! Bill and I spent about half an hour wandering about on the eastern summit and the slightly lower, ridgy, western summit. Many triumphant photos were taken and I took a whole series of route scouting telephoto shots for future route consideration.

The requisite hero photos: Here's Bill with the Diamond behind...

...and me with the higher east summit of Lady W and points east.

But the weather was looking distinctly less friendly; high, gray overcast skies, a halo around the sun, and some dark clouds moving in from the west. We retreated to the sheltered saddle between the peaks and had a bite of lunch before starting down the north face tallus. At lunch, Bill spotted a moving creature in the rocks. It was a pine marten! At 13,000', at least two thousand feet above and several miles horizontally from the nearest pine forest where they are usually found. Perhaps it was subsisting off pikas and tundra moss...

A pine marten at 13,000'? Where are the pine trees?

We headed down the north slope toward the broad Boulder Field feeling quite satisfied. Instead of hiking all the way to the trail and around Granite Pass, we intercepted the Lady Washington north ridge at about 12,600' and plunge-stepped down broad snowfields covered with sun-crusted, slushy snow headed which made a tinkling sound as we strode through it. The ugly weather never materialized and we traversed tundra (sticking to rocks and snow whenever possible) in surprising warmth. We recovered the snowshoes by 3pm and rested for a while enjoying the alpine sun and spectacular scenery.

The trickiest part of this trail is finding your way back down below tree line. Even with my GPS, Bill's wands, and several sets of tracks, we managed to get horrendously lost in the dense forest just below treeline. Bill had donned his snowshoes, but I was too stubborn and tired to bother and postholed up to my hips for a miserable half hour before finding the main trail again. Grrrr.

The final two miles back to the trailhead were uneventful. The sun was warm and the snow soft as we strode through the forest, eager for rest, dry socks, and extensive nourishment. We got back to the car and signed the trail log at 4:55 (five minutes before our anticipated 5pm return time) after 8.5 miles and 3900 vertical feet of climbing. It was a great end to the weekend (even if it was technically Monday), with great scenery, high-quality company, and a great sense of accomplishment.

The Wilderness Journal

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