A Sunday Walk Up Qaundary Peak

Since we started on the house last year we haven't had the time to do one of the things we like most about Colorado, and that is to roam around...roam around with a destination in mind.

A couple of weeks ago on a Saturday we noticed that the list of items left to do were now of a less then critical nature and were more of "nice to dos", e.g. plant cactus in pots and arrange on patio. So a break in the proceedings could be scheduled.

We hadn't been hiking in a while, and had been talking about going up another 14'ter for a couple of years. The last time we had hiked one had been been Grays Peak (14,270') in 2001.

That one was no problem so why not another one.

This time we picked Quandary Peak (14,265") just south of Breckenridge in the Mosquito /Ten Mile Range. This image is from http://www.14ters.com/ and is from Hoosier Pass.

It was fairly close, has easy access to the trail head and Herb Zimmerman, one of our neighbors (another Minnesotan), had been talking about going up it too. So a date was set 9/2.

When going up these peaks just about any time you need to be concerned about changing weather and the possibility of rain, snow and lightening. Keeping this in mind we established our start time as sunrise, which this time of the year was right around 6:30AM.

Trip reports on the web from others who had gone up in the previous couple of weeks seemed to indicate that the climb up would take about three hours and the walk down just a little less. We were going up using the East Ridge Route, which would mean about a 6 mile round trip and an altitude gain of about 3200'. Spending a little time on top that should put us back at the trail head by about noon, hopefully before the clouds overdeveloped and the chance for rain and lightening increase. It probably goes without saying that being caught above treeline on wet rocky slopes and lightening looking for a rod is not safe.

To reach the tail head by 6:30AM, we left Autumn Creek at 4:30AM.

After a coffee and rest stop in Fairplay we were on the trail at 6:20AM. The alpenglow in the valley provided plenty of light.

Although I would put us in one of the early groups heading up we were not the earliest, which became real obvious once we summited (damn gave away the plot). We were led by Herb and Halle, the Black Lab, who proved to be the masters of the mountain.

The early part of the climb was a nice walk through a park like forest to treeline at about 11,500'. Halle had point. A good hike to get the blood flowing and hopefully find a pace and rhythm. Mine is slow, but I had already warned Herb.

Water always plays a big part in these hikes in that not only are you working hard, but as the pressure drops fluid respiration increases (I slept at a Holiday Inn last night). Marlys and I each had 2 liter camelbaks knockoffs and carried another 3 quarts in bottles, by the time we reached the bottom we would only have one quart left.

It was cool when we started and the group was clothed to match, except me. I knew I would be glowing quickly so I only had a light fleece on and convertable pants. I am noted for being able to work up a sweat just walking on a sub-zero day. This is another reason for carrying a lot of water.

According to some of the other trip logs I had read the most difficult part of the climb was suppose to be reaching the summit ridge shoulder just above treeline. For this group that would turn out to be total BS...unless the summit ridge shoulder was the false summit about 5 minutes and a fairly level walk from the true summit. The classification of this climb seems to be in question, just like ski trail difficulty. Most sites rate this as a Class 1 climb (easiest), LocalHikes has it at moderate, but Summit.org rates it as an advanced climb. It was more difficult then Gray's Peak is all I know.

By the time we had made it above tree line and gained the summit ridge we were an hour into the climb and needed to stop and shed layers. I was soaked. The sun was coming up over the eastern side of the valley, which put the terrain in to sharp contrast and focus.

For those of you familiar with the Autumn Creek Area, the mountain on the horizon in the very middle of this picture is Black's.

Please don't mind the dates on the pictures, as I had to change camera batteries and didn't have a set of reading glasses with me so I could reset the date.

Other then a layer of dissipating clouds, probably remnants of activity from the day before, it was a going to be a bright sunny day. Our fingers were crossed that the clouds would hang around for a while to keep the direct rays of the sun from baking us during the already hot task of getting up the slope.

After what would come to be thought of as the most pleasant portion of the climb on the crotch between the summit ridge shoulder and the climb to the false summit, what for me came the most challenging part of the climb. I would literally not look up to see how far we had to go and just concentrated on how far to the next stop to catch my breath. By the time we were about a third of the way up the face to the false summit we reached the two hour point.

A cool breeze had also started to come up and layers were being added back, except me who was still soaked.

I was bringing up the rear. I like to think it was because I wanted make sure we all made it up, but with the looks from my partners it appeared they were more worried about dragging my butt to the top if/when I collapsed.

3 hours and ten minutes into the climb we reached the summit. Although we were one of the early groups there was a crowd already there, signing the summit log, taking pictures and resting before starting down. Everyone was in great spirits after achieving the goal, there were many offers to share energy bars and M&M's (Vitamin M). Some guy even started up a small camp stove to make coffee.

Marlys was looking for a private spot, but none were to be found on this rock pile.

The mountain masters didn't even look stressed.

Halle had some water, then it was time to head down.

To use on old saying "Getting to the top is optional, but getting down is not."

We started down to lines of folks heading up. This made for a stop and go type of progress. Groups within a 1/2 hour of the top would be greeted with "You don't have far to go now." Beyond that point you just said "how'ya doin", because you didn't want to break their spirit by telling them they had quite a way to go.

Speaking of spirit breakers, were the folks running up and down the mountain, and the guy carrying his child in a backpack. We passed him going down and he repassed us a little while later on his way down. Boy, did I feel old.

We weren't much below the false summit when cumulus clouds began to appear. These would portend the rain and lightening normal in the afternoon in the mountains this time of the year.

On the way down we continued to pass groups going up. These people were chancing it with this late of a start. An unscientific observation was that the later the group started the less prepared they seemed to be for the climb ahead. They tended to be in light shoes and only have a bottle of water. We even passed a group below tree line headed up when the sky had already become dark and ominous just before noon.

Although the downward trek is easier on your lungs, the knees and thighs take a beating. Part of this I think is because on the way down you don't stop to rest hardly at all because you aren't winded. Virtually the entire hike had been on loose rocks and large rock steps, I couldn't imagine doing them in the rain.

We reached the truck around noon, and collapsed into positions that would be hard to move from within minutes. The rain hit us within 20 minutes later as we drove over Hoosier Pass. I sure there were at least a hundred people on the mountain. Later that day a camper would be killed from a lightening strike.

We figured that at the rate of one 14'ter per year we will all be past the century mark before we finish. We are starting with the easiest ones first to get in shape.

Pat