| Mt. Columbia: Failed! |
[Jun. 7th, 2009|11:27 pm] |
Freshly-fallen snow on the slopes of Mt. Columbia, one of the Collegiate Peaks
My destination this weekend was Mt. Columbia. I didn't make it and actually ended up with a case of frostnip on my left ring finger, but sometimes my hiking activities -- much like life -- isn't always about the destination. Sometimes the journey itself ends up being more important than the destination.
I woke up at 1:00 AM on Saturday morning and was out the door by 2:00. Mt. Columbia is in the Sawatch Range near Buena Vista, CO, in Horn Fork Basin. This wouldn't be my first foray into Horn Fork; last August, on a overcast day, I found my way up to the summit of Mt. Harvard. Columbia is a Class 2 hike and would not be too much of a challenge, but when I got my first glimpse of the mountain, I somehow knew it wasn't going to be a walk in the park. The wind was whipping snow all around. I could see the same thing happening on Mts. Yale and Harvard as well. The weather forecast for the Buena Vista area was supposed to be warm, but windy in the afternoon. I didn't know how that was going to translate to the top of a 14,000-foot peak.
I arrived at the North Cottonwood Creek Trailhead at 4:30 AM. I rented some snowshoes from REI, just in case. I wasn't sure what the snow conditions were going to be along the trail, so I wanted to be prepared. With my headlamp on, I hit the trail at 4:45. The eastern sky was already beginning to lighten, so I knew I wouldn't be hiking with the light on for too long. Often times, I'll whistle while I'm hiking, just to make myself heard by whatever wildlife might be lurking along or next to the trail. I passed the Kronke Lake trail junction without incident and headed toward Horn Fork Basin.
The trail was pretty clear of snow. I didn't start encountering any significant snow until I approached one of the larger streams along the trail. I stopped to filter out some water for the hike at that point. It was the same place that I did it last year when I hiked Mt. Harvard As I finished-up, I encountered two hikers heading up the trail. They asked me if I had a Blazer at the trailhead and I indicated that I did. Apparently, I had left one of my map lights on. One of the guys said that he tried to open my door to turn it off, but couldn't get in. I informed them that the light will turn off after about 20-30 minutes. I've done it several times in the past. It's one of the nicer features on my truck. I appreciated that they were looking out for me like that. They said they were going to try and summit both Harvard and Columbia. I wished them well and we parted ways.
  After the stream crossing, snow became more significant. It was easy to walk on, though; a lot of the snow was as hard as ice. There were plenty of footprints to follow, so at no point did I ever loose the trail. When I came to a junction, I took the trail to the right thinking that it was the Columbia trail. As I walked along it, the surroundings just started looking familiar to me. When I neared another stream crossing, I realized that I was, indeed, on the trail up to Mt. Harvard. I could see winds whipping snow around on Harvard, making it look pretty daunting. I took out my trail guide and studied the photos. Looking up the slopes of Mt. Columbia, none of my reference photos looked familiar. I had passed the turn-off without even realizing it. I needed to backtrack and try to find the correct trail.
Mt. Columbia is the large mountain just right of center and Mt. Harvard is off in the distance
Panorama showing Mt. Yale (left in the distance)
As I headed back down the trail along a creek, I noticed some hikers on the other side of the drainage. "Excuse me!" I shouted. "Are you on the Columbia trail?"
"I believe so!" a male voice shouted back. I was excited that I didn't have to backtrack too far and hurried over to the other side of the drainage. I followed them to a camping area further up the trail. There were six hikers in the group and they invited me to tag along since we were all headed in the same direction. They were seasoned mountaineers; I was told that one of the group had completed all of Colorado's 14ers back in 1976, before a lot of them even had established trails. I was impressed and knew that I would be in good company.
I did my best to keep up with the group, but eventually fell behind as I like to hike at my own pace, not anyone else's. As I was heading up Columbia's shoulder, I stopped and took a few photos for a panorama. Little did I know that it would be the last time I was going to take photos.
Panorama taken from Mt. Columbia's shoulder showing Mt. Yale (left) and Mt. Harvard (far right).
On the lower part of Columbia's shoulder, there was hardly any wind. As I ascended toward its ridge, however, the weather conditions started changing rapidly. Clouds were moving in from the northwest and winds were really starting to blow ferociously. I stopped and put on my balaclava. I had also put on my thicker winter gloves back before I found the correct trail because my hands were getting really cold.. At one point, my view of Mt. Harvard was completely obscured. As I rounded Columbia's shoulder and started heading up toward the beginning of the summit ridge, the winds became literally gale-force. I looked up ahead of me; the group seemed to be slowing as well. While I never lost sight of them for very long, I could tell that the wind was slowing their pace. The snowshoes that were strapped to my backpack -- the same snowshoes that I rented for the sake of safety on the trail -- were quickly becoming a liability. At first, they were helping me as they caught the wind and pushed me uphill.
Once I reached the start of the summit ridge and turned left, it became very difficult for me to walk as they became virtually a pair of mini-wings. They created a tremendous amount of drag. I was really nervous about walking too close to the top of the ridge as I was afraid a strong gust of wind would carry me over the side of it. I could barely walk, but I continued on in between the wind gusts. I braced myself with my trekking poles as I walked on the snow, but was concerned that the snow would give way. When the wind would gust, I was forced to my knees to lessen my profile. It seemed like the gusts would never end. My toes were starting to get numb and my fingers were beyond numb, especially on my left hand -- the hand facing the wind. I started moving my fingers, clasping and un-clasping my trekking poles, to hopefully start blood circulating through them.
Wind-blown snow stung my eyes and the side of my face that wasn't covered by my balaclava, mostly near my eyes. I looked up ahead of me and could see Columbia's summit. I was so close to it. My hiking buddies were only a short distance away from me, but I needed to cross an especially exposed part of the ridge. None of them seemed to be moving. As long as they kept moving forward, I would do the same. The sustained winds must have been blowing at about 60-70 MPH; the gusts, anywhere from 80-90 MPH. Now, I know what it's like to be one of those weather forecasters standing in the face of a tropical storm.
It seemed like I was frozen in place for almost ten minutes while I was waiting for the gusts to die down. I looked up ahead again; one of the group was heading back toward me! As he reached me, I heard him yell, "We're going back!" Thank goodness, I thought. We were somewhere between 13,800 and 13,900 feet above sea-level. It was disappointing to have to turn back, but I've never regretted making a decision for safety's sake. I turned about-face and fell over in the wind. I had gotten so used to it blowing on my left side, the moment I turned, my showshoe-wings caught the wind and bowled me over. Fortunately, I was far-enough away from the top of the ridge or the results would have been disastrous. I struggled with the hood of my jacket, too. It kept blowing off and I couldn't keep in in place. I started heading back, but ended up going in the wrong direction. I headed back up toward the ridge and met up with two of the group. They pointed me toward the ridge and instructed me to go down the other side of it.
Once on the other side of the ridge, we were protected from the winds. I was asked several times if I was okay. My fingers were burning and felt a little swollen, sure signs of the onset of frostbite. I was instructed to put them under my armpits, a warm area of the body. I pulled my fingers in toward the center of my gloves, making a fist, and put them under my armpits. I winced at the pain. The others were discussing how long they were going to wait for the winds to die down. We couldn't afford to wait for too long because the longer we were stationary, the more chance we were going to have to get frostbitten or hypothermic. One of the women asked if I had any Gu Shots and hand warmers. Fortunately, I had both. She said that I should eat a couple of the shots and drink some water as both would work to warm me up. I did so. In the meantime, my fingers warmed-up sufficiently and no longer burned. As a group, we all decided that we would need to chance the wind and get back down as quickly and as safely as possible.
It was a challenge getting back up into the gale-force wind. We descended off of the ridge and onto the shoulder as quickly as we could manage. Once on the shoulder, the wind began to die down. About half-way down the shoulder, the group stopped and took off their outer layers as the wind wasn't as much of an issue. We saw people heading up our way and began to advise them to not continue on. One guy had a puppy that I felt bad for. It would surely be blown off the mountain if they made it to the ridge.
It seemed like forever, but we eventually made it back to the camp area where I originally met-up with the group. They stopped and ate a quick lunch and engaged in conversation. One of the guys said that he had been hiking all winter long and didn't once encounter winds that fierce the entire season. Once everyone was finished, we proceeded to head back to the trailhead. I tagged along, thankful for the company. We all made it back to the trailhead around 2:30 PM. I was invited to have some champagne with them as one of the group was recently retired from practicing law, so I stayed for about another half-hour and enjoyed their conversation. All six of them met through being members of the Colorado Mountain Club, an organization that I am going to join, eventually, if only to take their mountaineering courses. I thanked all of them for keeping me on my toes up on the mountain and for not allowing me to panic. They were a great bunch of people.
I parted ways with them around 3:30 and headed back to Colorado Springs. Even though I didn't make it to my destination, my life is richer because of the journey that day. With knowledge and experience comes wisdom. I hope to be able to share that with another, less-experienced hiker someday. |
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