January 15-16, 1999 attempt on Mt Columbia
Taking Friday off from work, I intended to hike into and camp in Horn Fork Basin that night, climbing Mounts Harvard and Columbia the next day. Leaving Colorado Springs at 10:00 A.M., I reached Buena Vista around noon. That was the easy part of the drive.
| The access road to the trailhead to Horn Fork Basin is only 5 miles long, but with my rear wheel drive '59 Chevy it was laborious. Probably the worst road I have taken it on. After three miles snow covered the road, but it was packed enough for pressing on all the way to the trailhead. Almost. I could not crest the final 20 foot approach to the parking lot! I backed up and tried twice to make it with a running start--no luck. When backing up to look for a turn around spot to head for lower ground I got stuck. Several times! I even tried to put on my chains, but discovered to my alarm that they were too small. (I own three sets of chains purchased over the years--usually at highway robbery prices when forced to buy them when crossing a mountain pass and being unprepared.) | |
Eventually I succeeded in getting my car to lower ground. It was already 2 P.M. by the time I finally had assembled my pack from the jumble of equipment and food I had thrown into the trunk in my typical haste to hit the road.
Signing in at the trail register I noted that no one had been on the trail since January 1st, when a party of three signing in as the "Birthday Boys" skied from the summit of Birthday Peak. No one had climbed Harvard or Columbia since November.
After a quick drink from the nearly frozen North Cottonwood Creek I called for Sam, the Wolfdog, my constant companion. No response. Dropping my pack I backtracked discovering him about a hundred yards down the trail, gnawing on a complete (with meat and fur) elk leg! He was not interested in a silly hike at this point--this was the highlight of his life! The chance to satisfy his deepest primal urges. He ripped and chewed with purpose.
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Quoting from Barry Lopez's Of Wolves and Men:
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Attaching his leash I dragged Sam and his new prize up the trail. He dropped it a couple hundred yards up the trail, and in the interests of making it to Horn Fork Basin before nightfall I dragged him along until he ultimately gave it up for lost.
The trail parallels North Cottonwood Creek for a couple of
miles before turning right at the Horn Fork Basin cutoff.
Rapidly ascending now, the snow became deeper and I donned my
snowshoes around 11,000 feet. It is nearly impossible to
travel in 2-3 feet deep snow without snowshoes, but they are
cumbersome and make for slow progress. At 4 P.M. I crossed a
creek, thinking it would make a good camp site. Since I had
a good half hour travel time to allow for half an hour to set up
camp before nightfall, I continued on, hoping for another creek
crossing. According to the map there would be another one in Horn
Fork Basin--assuming it wasn't frozen over.
| 4:30 came sooner than Horn Fork Basin, and I stopped to set up my tent in a sheltered copse of fir trees. It was either the altitude, the cold, or my stove was running out of gas, but after an hour of attempting to make water boil I gave up and ate my spaghetti sauce cold and made do with power bars instead of spaghetti. The warm water served for Instant Hot Cider. I didn't stay outside the tent for long after the lights went out, crawling into my two sleeping bags. (I have been meaning to get a good cold weather bag, but the budget will only allow so much at a time.) Two bags, while heavy to carry, kept me warm and cozy. |  |
All night I listened to the wind overhead in the trees and thought of the weather report calling for high winds--at 14er level that could be gale force. I thought of my aborted attempt on Mt Massive in late November, when I turned back 200 feet from the summit, and of my successful ascent of Algonquin Peak in the Adirondacks of upper New York state almost exactly one year before when the high winds on the summit nearly bowled me over. The night before that climb I had also camped in the woods and listened to the wind howling overhead while safely in my shelter of tent and trees.
Two weeks before I had aborted an attempt on Capitol Peak in the Elk Range after having trouble finding the trail in the dark early morning hours. This time I slept in till 6 AM, hitting the trail at 7 AM just as the sun came up. The sunrise was glorious and I snapped crystal-clear photo of a 13er that I mistakenly thought was Harvard. Navigating by compass I snowshoed north towards Horn Fork Basin. The trees went on forever. Where was the timberline? Finally Horn Fork Basin in all its splendor on this mid-January day opened up with Harvard and Columbia in view.
Pausing, I planned my routes up the two 14ers. For Harvard I
would ascend a ridge to the west of the peak, rising to a point
13K+ before following the ridge NE to the summit. But first would
come Columbia. Traversing SE below a set of cliffs the west face
came into view. Here I took off my snowshoes as the effects
of the wind and sun had mostly stripped the face of snow. It
looked steep, though, and I aimed for a snow gully thinking I
would crampon up it. As I drew closer it became apparent that the
easier course was simply to scramble up the dry rock and grass.
This was a long tough scramble where I gained nearly 2,000' of
elevation to the top of the south ridge at 13,600'. With
all the 14er's I've climbed in the last few months I've developed
a little routine or mind-diversion if you will. I climb
quickly and continuously until my legs start to scream, then I
count off 30 more steps before taking a breather. My breath at
that point is coming fast and furious--the workout as good as any
run I've ever done. The wind from the west grew stronger the
higher I got and towards the end was fairly blowing me up the
mountain--a welcome assist.
| However, once on the ridge with the temperature at 8F and the wind blowing better than 40MPH I was forced to duck over to the eastern side to put on more clothes and assess the situation. After a few minutes, Sam the wolfdog sallied over to the western side of the ridge, reporting back with a rare single bark and a worried expression. When I followed him over to the west side the wind knocked me off my feet. Looking to the summit of Columbia, along the south ridge described by Lou Dawson in his "Guide to Colorado's Fourteeners" as "easier--even fun", I saw snow plumes spiraling up all along the ridge. Fun depends on many factors. Wind-chill temps of -40 and the chance of being blown off a mountain are not fun. Looking towards Harvard I noted with alarm that what had been blue skies not one hour before was now a wall of white and snow was falling heavily all through the basin. I hastily made my decision to get off that mountain as fast as possible! |  |
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To descend I traversed west towards a long snow field I had made note of in my initial route planning. It proved to be a most rapid descent as I succeeded in glissading nearly the entire 2,000' from ridge to basin. From there I followed my snowshoe tracks through the falling snow back to my camp site. Once in the basin it was merely snowing--no high winds, no danger. After striking my tent and breaking camp in a leisurely hour, I snowshoed all the way back to my car without a break. Sam ran ahead at one point--I found him half an hour later with his elk bone nearly devoured. When I yelled "Let's go" he reluctantly abandoned his prize and we continued our way down to the car, where the snow was still falling, but not sticking. |