One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: January 1, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1989_0506-20_Spring1989.htm)
(A
Fourteener
trip report.)
One Sunday, I climbed Quandary Peak for the third time... At night, for the second time... With six other people, for the first time. I was amazed that so many others would join me on such a wild adventure. We chanced extreme weather, but were blessed to receive an interval of grand and glorious conditions. You win some and you lose some; this one we won big. The famous south side glissade descent was icing on the cake.
I left Fort Collins at noon Saturday with HPites Jim Sheppard and Neal Bauer, and friends Sherry Perkins, Marge White, and Ruth Stuckenbruck. We picked up Kristi Brubaker in Arvada and went on to Breckenridge. There we checked into a condo arranged by Jim. What a nice base, compared to a tent! It was overcast, cold, raining, and snowing.
Later Saturday afternoon we drove about ten miles south to the Blue Lakes turnoff, and explored about a mile further west up the dirt road. The full length of Quandary's east ridge was visible, 80% snow covered. The group decided that my usual bushwhack starting point 1.2 miles up the road would be rather wet and unpleasant for a night climb. We decided to instead launch from the (unmarked) parking area and trailhead about 0.4 miles up the road from Colorado 9.
[2023: My how times have changed. Now the parking lots have expanded and expensive reservations are required!]
Back in Breckenridge, we did some shopping, had dinner, and tried to get the condo's hot tub working (no luck, sigh).
At 0100 Sunday morning I looked outside. I was surprised and thrilled to find a clear sky, full of stars. (OK, not 100% thrilled, I could have used more sleep.) Also surprising was that all six of the other adventurers roused quickly and without complaint, despite only 3-4 hours slumber. It seemed, again, that a party of seven was the magic number for an enchanted expedition. Quite expected and mundanely, though, it was almost an hour before we were out the door and on the road.
We started up the trail at 0208 in near pitch dark (a day after the new moon) with flashlights and headlamps. It was cold, but not bitter, and rather humid. There was fresh snow on many tree branches, and sparkly ice crystals on the rocks.
It was easier than we had feared to follow trails and dirt roads for a while, then to hike up the east ridge through clearings between trees. We stopped several times to study the stars and enjoy the arc of the Milky Way across the sky. Denver lights made a glow on distant clouds, and car lights crossing nearby Hoosier Pass lit eerie patches under some fog. The trail was muddy in spots, and we crossed some small creeks, but they were no problem.
Thanks to a huge spaghetti dinner that evening, my stomach was a little upset the whole way up. Some of the others hiked slowly too. We didn't rush because we'd already given up on seeing the sunrise from the summit. Being on the east ridge, it didn't matter; we wouldn't miss it.
As it turned out, our timing was perfect. If we'd left an hour earlier, we'd have been on top that much sooner and colder. The snow on the descent route would have been harder. If we'd left an hour later, we'd have endured the rain and snow that closed in by noon on Sunday.
We were mostly able to follow the trail or stay on rocks, but occasionally had to scrunch up firm snowfields. We reached the relatively flat stretch high on the ridge at 13200' around 0600 and took a long break. We knew the sun had been up since 0536, but there was no obvious sign of it due to indistinct ice clouds in that direction. The world was pastel, pink, white, blue, and grey. It was cool but not cold, with only gentle breezes, and clear skies around us.
What a phenomenal scene! To the south, South Park was filled, rim to rim, with flat, rimpled white ice fog. It drifted slowly north across Hoosier Pass and dissipated as we watched. There were also flat fog layers visible in valleys to the east, and in the mighty Arkansas Valley to the west. The Elk Range Fourteeners nearly 60 miles distant, including the Maroon Bells, were crisp and lovely in the delayed dawn glow. Various snow-covered peaks, including Bross, Lincoln, and Democrat, rose majestically from the frozen stratus. Toward the sun there were gentle hues of pink and violet that changed slowly. It was a magnificent, wintry panorama.
There was no fog in the valley south of Quandary. We looked down from the ridge over 2500' to its floor, stretched over five miles long.
I did not want to believe the map, that there was still 1000' to the summit. It looked closer. I felt very tired. I was in shape but unacclimated, having been no higher than 9000' so far this year. Last night's dinner was the killer (burp).
We slogged on. Two of our party raced ahead. I pulled up the rear along with two others, including one of the ladies who felt tired like me. The last 500' were especially long and grueling. One slow step at a time, with frequent breaks, heart pounding, body weak, to marvel at the sensory richness of the world around us. It included a long-lasting "sunbow", a circular rainbow almost completely around the bright spot where the sun hid behind dense, furry ice-crystal clouds. I reminded myself how easy the same route was two years earlier, simply due to being better acclimated. One's condition greatly colors one's perceptions... But my discomfort could not ruin the intensity of our surroundings.
The last of the seven arrived on top at 0735. We spent nearly five and a half hours gaining "merely" 3345' (partly due to several long breaks). We whooped and hollered and gathered for a short "huggle" on the highest hump of hard packed snow. We rested and chatted for an hour and 20 minutes, soaking up the scene. The spectacular frozen fog remained pooled in most of the many low areas visible to us. I measured the temperature in the shade at 28 deg F, and rising.
From the summit the south side of the mountain appeared ominously steep. Far below there was a valley floor with a road going west (right), up to Blue Lakes and a dam. Across the valley, North Star Peak was a sheer face. Some of the party were apprehensive at starting down this way. But I knew from the past what fun lay ahead!
We departed at 0855. A mere 100' down we found the top of a broad, steep snow field, the head of the best glissade route in Colorado. I intended to check it out carefully. It was still morning; the snow is usually hard and icy that early. We only had enough ice axes and similar tools to supply five people. I wanted to be sure everyone was comfortable sliding, and capable of stopping. But three of the ladies went ahead, and started riding down on their fannies without major hesitation.
Fortunately the conditions were nearly perfect. The snow was crusty but rough enough that it was easy to dig in with heels or elbows. The people without axes followed others who had them. In a short time we were all racing down with frequent bursts of speed, quick stops, leap-frogging, and even some collisions. Everyone laughed like five-year-olds, utterly enjoying it. At many points there were long troughs, like bobsled runs, cut by previous glissaders.
The ride was nearly continuous, with occasional short traverses to aim for the center of the gully or to avoid rocks. We played our way down the snow for over 2000' and 45 minutes. I was so caught up in it, I forgot to measure the slope with the angle meter I brought. It's steep enough to be breathtaking, possibly 45 deg at points. With good snow, when broad and soft, it's also relatively safe. (But start slowly, until you're sure!) There's plenty of time to stop a runaway slide -- a frequent necessity if you really enjoy the ride.
All too soon we reached the rocks and scree just above the upper Blue Lake. We took only 1:10 to get from the summit to the road below the dam, including a last short ride down the snowfield on the dam itself. We met some people climbing up the snow. Jim noted that would be a fine way to climb Quandary -- the highest, closest starting point, and a good look at the glissade route as you ascend it. It would be steep but direct. [And a year later, it was!]
One lady was exhausted. I was pretty wasted myself from overexerting on the climb. We rested for an hour while the others hiked down the road about three miles, and Jim drove back to pick us up.
We were rained and snowed on while returning to Breckenridge, and most of the way back into Denver later in the afternoon. Noontime felt like evening to us because we'd been up so long. I was home by 1600, in bed by 1700, and slept 14 hours.
(Next trip report: 1989_0617_ChiefsHeadPeak.htm)