One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: May 29, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1988_0630-0702_Blanca,Ellingwood.htm)
(A
Fourteener
trip report.)
The previous day we climbed Blanca Peak and Ellingwood Peak, and were still camped high below them...
If Little Bear Peak was awful the first time, to my surprise it was even worse the second time. I started out more excited than nervous, but ended up sharing a harrowing, even life-threatening day with the Paul and Carolyn Beiser and three other climbers who joined us. Paul and I agreed it was easily the hardest and riskiest Fourteener climb either of us had ever made. Even Crestone Peak on a bad day (like I had two years previously) paled in comparison.
We were under way from the Como Lake area at 0630. Our camp at 11960' was just northeast of the bottom of the couloir (cut in Little Bear's west ridge) described in Borneman and Lampert's book. We reached the top of the cut uneventfully at 0712 and began traversing the ridge.
First it was more uphill and less level on the ridge than I remembered. Second we were in sunlight only briefly, then back in shadow for the rest of the climb. Third it was much longer than I recalled from the second cut, at 0756, to the base of the "Bowling Alley" (aka Hourglass), the upper couloir into which many high-speed rocks funnel, at 0853. We had to cross some hard snow that was not an obstacle last time (in September).
The especially critical difference from my last climb was that a lot of water was running down that couloir! Hence it was impossible to safely climb or descend its small ledges. At this point I should have exercised my wisdom, supposedly gained by experience, and said, "you guys go ahead... I don't need to be up there again that bad". Well the other five had never been to the summit, and we all wholly expected to traverse to Blanca Peak rather than return the same way!
So up we went by climbing steep, wet, rotten rock next to the gully. This was pretty awful at points. I nearly lost it once -- drew some blood on the back of my hand scrabbling for a hold. Under these circumstances a mere helmet was not much consolation! Once above the worst of it, we fought our way up nasty, loose slopes toward the summit.
Near the top I cut right (south) as prearranged, hoping to reach Little Bear's south sub-peak which was over 14000'. It would have to wait for another climb -- from the south, if I could arrange it, not up the "Bowling Alley" again! I gave up after about 10 minutes of exploring and climbing when it still seemed far away.
The others were eager to start the traverse to Blanca before bad weather arrived. I rejoined them on top of Little Bear Peak -- such a neat little place, so high in the sky -- at 1005, having gained a total of about 2250' in 3:35. (Little Bear was not a fast climb!)
Ten minutes later we set off down the northeast ridge. At first the connecting ridge was merely steep. Then it got real exposed and nasty. There were lots of handholds, but inches away was a 2000' drop that sort of grabbed our attention!
Perhaps 200' down we stopped to study it... And came to the consensus, "forget it". Not without a rope, like the pair of people well ahead of us were using. Nor did the reputed "northeast ledges and cracks route" appear to offer a safe descent. So reluctantly we returned to the summit of Little Bear Peak at 1100 after less than an hour.
Now this was a curious feeling: At the moment the weather was non-threatening, the view elating, and the summit a marvelous place to be. Unfortunately it was imperative we start down as soon as possible... And we disagreed about how to proceed! Two people wanted to check out the east face of Little Bear, hoping to drop below the northeast ridge and then make Blanca Peak from below. Good thing we didn't do that. Later I noticed the contour lines did some funny things in that area!
I had decided not to descend the "Bowling Alley" no matter what. I was ready to cross to the south sub-peak after all, then depart it down the south side, reputed to be easier. This would leave me a long way from camp, facing a return of many miles up and down a couple of thousand feet, but it seemed like a safe choice.
Well I was outvoted. The others decided to go down the same way we had climbed. My desire to stick with the group outweighed my urge to play it safer. I'm still not sure I made the right decision, although it turned out OK. We left the summit the second time at 1110.
Before we reached the top of the couloir it rained a little. As a result all the rocks were wet. They formed a series of downsloping ledges and overhanging cliffs.
Paul scouted a route down and we followed with extreme care and patience. I was too busy to notice the time, but figured later we spent about two hours downclimbing about 200' of near cliff. Paul judged it to be about 5.4 rock. Our only climbing rope was my 40' length, whose utility was limited to lowering some packs twice.
It was a strange feeling. We had to pay absolute attention to the rock and to every appendage at all times. One glance down reminded us why we dared not let our attention waver. Each of us was individually pessimistic about our chances of reaching safety... Yet we saw no better alternative than the tedious, careful descent. We measured our progress in inches at points, dropping perhaps 10' between precarious rest stops.
I was terrified. I resolved again to never again do that kind of climbing on any mountain. Getting to the bottom of the couloir, where the downclimbing becomes "merely" arduous and treacherous, was like being given a new lease on life.
Three hours off the summit at 1410 we were past the worst of it. Maybe a half hour later, before traversing the west ridge again, we sat out a vicious hailstorm with lightning a mile away. Time for lunch under a poncho!
We mainly stayed off the top of the ridge. At one point I felt static raise the hair on a bare arm. We reached the main cut off the ridge at 1600, and were back at camp (moving kind of slow now) at 1655, 5:45 after stepping off the summit; wet, cold, tired, and sore.
That evening we all had the same experience at least once the first time we rested... Of jerking suddenly taut, as if we had just fallen.
(Next trip report: 1988_0704-06_MountSneffels.htm)