One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: March 30, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1986_0823-0908_TheLastSix14ers.htm)
(A
Fourteener
trip report.)
Saturday, August 23: After failing to reach the top of Mount Lindsey, Culebra Peak was my next goal. When I pulled into the Taylor Ranch this evening it had just finished raining, all the dirt roads were muddy, the skies were overcast, and it was rather cold. (Never mind that Culebra was the southernmost of the Colorado Fourteeners, only eight miles from the New Mexico border... Winter was in the air.) If you followed the B&L description you could find the private ranch because there wasn't much else around, but it was not well marked. Your best bet was to call ahead for information and directions.
I thought, "Only an idiot would climb a mountain in weather like this." But a couple of other idiots drove in, two couples in fact. One of the pairs had successfully climbed Mount Lindsey that day! They were determined to make the summit no matter what the conditions -- so I was in good company.
I paid my $20 and camped in a cow-trampled meadow near the ranchhouse, close to 9000', because they wouldn't allow anyone to drive higher toward the summit. At least camping by the ranch meant access to a real bathroom with running water! But one of the couples backpacked up the road in the dark, and it started raining again.
Sunday, August 24: At 0400 this morning I dragged myself awake before the others who were camped nearby. By 0445 I was on my way alone up the road with a headlamp. The moon was hidden by thick clouds and the air had a strange, wet, pungent feel to it.
I plodded along the old road for several hours wishing I could have driven up it. At points it was a 17% grade, but generally mostly soft and smooth. It slowly got lighter, but no clearer. At least it didn't rain any more.
It was a tiring drudge to climb through foggy wet air, very dark and humid. I reached the "4-Way" junction at 0635, and timberline (11700') soon after, where I said "good morning" to the backpackers as they were crawling out of their tent for breakfast.
From here I started up southeast on soggy wet tundra, towards the main ridge to Culebra Peak. It was a wet mess of rocks and grasses hidden in thick white clouds. I actually had to use a compass a couple of times to get oriented. My digital watch went into hibernation (no display) due to the humidity, and I lost track of time!
Eventually I reached a 13300' flat above the 13200' saddle on the way to the peak and could see an enormous pillar of a cairn. One of the couples caught up to me here. The clouds cleared just a little, mostly above, so we were looking out over a carpet of cumulus... Wow!
I dropped down, across, and up the ridge ahead of them. There were occasional cairns, but no clear trail, and it was not well marked. I crossed a couple of expected false summits and reached a high point with a cairn and some wire, but no register.
I decided "this must be it" and unpacked, took off my boots, and started eating lunch. Five minutes later the clouds blew away enough to reveal the real summit, a quarter mile further south and a hundred feet higher... Sigh.
Soon after I reached the true top of Culebra Peak, the people behind me arrived and told me what time it was. I'd taken 5:30 to climb a total of 5150', which wasn't bad under the circumstances! Soggy boots and all.
There was a register on the peak and a half-circle wind shelter of rocks atop an average-sized, rounded ridgetop... Nothing special. We did get some looks at the surrounding scenery, which was probably enhanced by being half hidden in clouds drifting past.
I made the mistakes of leaving the summit after the others, at 1100, and then not paying close attention to the route. It had whited-out again, with some towers building, so I chose to stay below the main ridge on the way back for lightning safety.
Somehow I dropped too far, too fast down the southwest side of the mountain, traversing around expecting to find the main ridge. I wasn't sure if I'd crossed it already and gone beyond it. Without a watch I couldn't track the time, and the compass and map weren't much help. And then -- it started hailing and raining.
Being disoriented like that can produce a real panic. I paused several times to just wait and see if the clouds would clear. The occasional small breaks weren't much help. I knew which way was up, but nothing else! From the map I felt I'd gone around the north side of the mountain, way too far. What a choice I had to make! Go down, up, sideways, or wait?
Going around and slowly down was very non-productive, getting steeper, looser, and more lost. Finally on the verge of giving up and taking a nap -- and expecting the ranch manager to call Search and Rescue if I didn't get back down by that evening -- I started hiking back up, up, a long way up. I knew I hadn't dropped too far.
I had enough food and clothing and energy left to go for awhile, and found clean snow to stretch my water supplies. I don't know how long I re-climbed, but it felt like at least 500', probably more.
After a lot of that I found myself back on a ridgetop, but still disoriented. Now what? Just then I got a clearing enough to pick out Carneros Lake, northwest of the peak. I was saved -- once I did a 180 degree mental flip, as I had actually climbed from the south side! The lake told me without question which way was which.
I started down, watching carefully for cairns, staying right on the ridge. Lightning was the least of my worries! Not long after that it cleared up a whole lot, on the way to building afternoon thunderstorms. After passing the 13200' saddle I took some cairns around a low route, more directly back to the old campground at 11700'.
I wound up going cross-country down the mountainside, now hurrying to get to timberline in case a nasty storm to the east came my way. I reached the camp (and the tent still there) at 1415, 3:15 after leaving the summit. It should have taken two hours tops. Just then the couple that owned the tent arrived, and we spent 45 minutes resting and talking.
The storms never came near. I returned to my Jeep, 4.5 miles away and 2700' lower back at the Ranch, from 1500 to 1630 -- running parts of the way on soft gravel. Yeah! What a long day, though -- 5600'+, 11:45 total time, on two nights of short sleep.
Resting, packing, and chatting with the ranch manager consumed almost two hours. Then I drove all the way back to the Singing River Ranch boundary near Mount Lindsey where I crashed for the night on a tarp, under clear, starry skies, next to a very welcome pit toilet provided by the state parks people. I ended up climbing Lindsey the next day.
(Next trip report: 1986_0825_MountLindsey.htm)