Along with our friends Kristen and Rolfe, we did a wonderful hike through the Weminuche Wilderness, beginning at the Vallecito trailhead and ending at Cunningham Gulch outside of Silverton. (A very large - 1.8MB - version of the strip map to the right is here.) Along the way we climbed six significant mountains (although none of us climbed all six), ate a lot of trout, scrambled up rocks, glissaded down snowfields, played Hearts, and generally had a great time.
On our first day we hiked along the broad and mostly-flat Vallecito trail nearly to Johnson Creek. The next day we waded across the (extremely cold!) Vallecito river and turned uphill on the steep trail up Sunlight Creek. Actually, the name 'trail' was a misnomer, as it was narrow and overgrown; one stretch had been completely obliterated by an avalanche which had knocked down all the aspen trees into a difficult-to-negotiate obstacle course. As bad as it was, that was the last real trail we saw until our second-to-last day! The going was slow because our packs were very heavy - even with modern freeze-dried stuff, nine days of food weighs a lot - and we had 2500 vertical feet to climb. We set up camp on the shore of Sunlight Lake, just above 12,000 feet, after a long, hard day.
The Vallecito river, the Vallecito trail, and Kristen crossing the river, Rolfe in the avalanche path, our camp at Sunlight Lake, and Ilana washing off in the lake. (All photos link to 800x600 versions.)
The next morning the weather wasn't great, and Kristen wasn't feeling too good, but Rolfe, Britt and I decided to attempt Windom Peak anyway. Windom is Colorado's 34th highest mountain, at 14,082 ft; Britt and I had climbed it once before from the Chicago Basin (west) side. (Britt also climbed it from this side in 1977.)
First
we had to hike up to Upper Sunlight Lake. From there it was a steep climb
over rock slabs, snowfields, and talus to the notch separating Windom from
Sunlight Peak. At that point we got sort of lost and wandered around
quite a bit, eventually finding ourselves on the east side of the arete where
we were able to scramble up to the summit, which we shared with a fat marmot
and a guy who had hiked up from the Chicago Basin side. The descent was
entirely miserable, as we ended up on nasty steep slopes covered with little
marble-sized rocks, and I blew out the zipper in my rain pants. I am not
a very confident glissader and went back down the snowfield largely on my
butt. But we made it back to camp just as it started to pour rain in
earnest.
Upper Sunlight Lake above; Rolfe on the snowfield, Ilana just getting up to the notch, Ilana on the arete, and Britt showing off his superior balance skills.
Day four dawned bright and sunny. We packed up our camp and headed down the trail to about the 11,500 level, then struck out up the draw to the east side of Jagged Mountain. No trail here at all, but we followed a pleasant system of rock ledges and grassy ramps on the east side of a snow-filled gully until we ran out of options and had to go straight up the extremely steep grassy slope. On our frequent breaks to catch our breath we would admire the beautiful granite spires of Jagged Mountain, or the perfect dihedrals on the small peak to our east, or the wildflowers that were putting on a spectacular show. (Rolfe informed us that columbine are edible, and we made a big show of complaining that he was wrecking the scenery by popping one in his mouth every time we passed a patch.)
We
set up camp at the small lake in Jagged Basin. After lunch, Britt went
west to cross Jagged Pass and fish in an unnamed lake he'd seen on the
map, while Kristen, Rolfe, and I climbed 13,528 ft Leviathan Peak, which
towered over Jagged Basin on the north. Interestingly, although Jagged
Mountain is solid granite, Leviathan is made of quartzite slabs. It was a
fun climb and we had excellent views from the top. And Britt came home
with trout, so we had a delicious dinner.
The
next morning it was time for the special event of this hike: Jagged
Mountain. At 13,824 it is not one of Colorado's very highest, but it is
one of Colorado's hardest peaks to climb as there is no non-technical route to
the summit. The easiest route is 5.2, although it's a high-elevation and
exposed 5.2 - even the 4th class portions are rather thoughtful even for
an experienced climber. Fortunately we had a photocopy of the relevant
pages from Gerry Roach's guidebook, where he describes the route in superb
detail - the only routefinding necessary was figuring out where the climbing
began, which took us some bit of dithering. (The 'foot-wide crack' is
directly above a sort of messy steep dihedral, which you don't actually need to
climb but can approach by grassy ledges on its left.) The first crux, an
exposed ramp with scant holds, is immediately above this crack.
Britt climbed it but didn't like it much, and he liked even less the rest of us
being nervous about it. I found it a delicate business but not too bad,
but I didn't want to think about the descent. Eventually, after a great
deal of dithering, Rolfe and Kristen decided to turn around and go climb the
ridge leading toward Peak 6 instead, and Britt and I continued on.
The
route was just easy ledge scrambling for a while, and Roach's directions were
spot on as we ascended near the gully and then cut back to the right.
Then it was time for the second crux - a squeeze chimney followed by a mantle
onto a smooth, rounded rock. The mantle was very hard and scary, and when
I finally got my body up on the ledge I had to sit down and have a panic
attack. I freaked out entirely, sobbing and short of
breath. I saw a few slings nearby that previous parties had used for
rappelling off, and I wished very much we had brought a rope! (We had
decided against it because of the extra weight - our packs were already so
heavy with gear for 9 days - and the 'only' 5.2 rating didn't sound too
bad.) Britt let me cry for a few minutes, and then I scrambled up the
next section and tried to think only about going up. The third crux was
the hardest, up some ledgy dihedral things, and when I finally got through it
(with a lot of encouragement from Britt) I had to sit down and sniffle
again.
The
traverse ledge on the south side was airy and had a few somewhat exposed bits,
but it all worked just as in the guidebook all the way to the final chimney and
up to the summit. It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the warmth and
the view for a while. Especially interesting to us was the view of the
lower summits of Jagged Mountain, all these forbidding granite spires that
looked as though there was no way short of a helicopter to get on them. A
few in particular really caught my eye because they looked like the stone heads
of Easter Island. But eventually we had to do the descent. Britt had
scarfed one of the slings and a carabiner from the rap station just above that
crux, thinking it might help us on the way down, and it really did; he made a
loop as an extra handhold for me which got me down the third (and hardest)
crux. We bypassed the mantle part of the second crux when we saw a cairn
off to the side which led us to a chimney that was much easier to
descend. At the first crux Britt descended first, then gave me directions
on where the footholds I couldn't see were, and soon we were on solid ground
and very happy for it.
Pictures among the paragraphs are views of Jagged Mtn. from the south and from the north, and one of the "Easter Island" formations; then, Ilana at base of final chimney, then at an exposed step-around, and Britt about to go up a slot. We didn't take a lot of pictures on the climb because we were concentrating on the climbing. (A polite way to say we were too nervous.)
When we returned to camp, I took a nap while Britt, who has more stamina than the Energizer Bunny, hiked down to the lower Jagged Basin, where another lake he'd never visited lay, and caught trout for dinner. While we were hanging around the campsite thinking about dinner, we were visited by a friendly mountain goat! Rolfe dubbed him Barney. He stuck around through dinner before finally bounding off.
The next day we woke to rain, but we decided we'd rather make some miles than sit in the tents, so we packed up and slogged over Leviathan Pass. On the other side was a descent down a long, steep snowfield and lots of big rocks; it was not very pleasant. Then we had to contour around a steep hillside above Leviathan Lake and climb a second pass to reach North Leviathan Lake. Up and down, up and down - we went less than two miles in four hours. Because of the constant rain and fog visibility was very poor. Only occasionally the mists would open up enough for us to see some of the spectacular scenery that surrounded us. Which is why we actually descended down the wrong drainage and almost ended up below the cliffs under the lake. Only Britt's sharp ears, which caught the sound of the waterfall leaving North Leviathan Lake on our left instead of on our right, kept us from descending too far in the wrong direction; we ended up having to climb a little and then contouring across the slope to reach the lake. The rain stopped for just long enough for us to set up camp and exchange our sodden clothing for dry; then it started to pour again, so we played Hearts the rest of the afternoon.
Descending a snowfield; Leviathan Peak's steep north face looming in the fog; North Leviathan Lake the next day.
Fortunately,
day seven was sunny again. My boots, and Britt's boots, had soaked
completely through on the previous day, so we were rather slow to get moving,
hoping to let them dry in the sun. We encouraged Rolfe and Kristen (who
had Gore-tex rather than leather) to go ahead of us and drop their packs
at the saddle between Peak 7 and Peak 8, then climb Peak 7 (13,682 ft)
from there, and we'd meet them at the saddle when they were done. The
timing worked out well, and we didn't have to wait long. We descended a
ways into the basin, then turned east to make for the saddle between Storm King
Peak and the Peak 8 - Peak 9 Ridge, picking up a game trail which made
things a lot easier. At the saddle we had lunch, then dropped our packs
and climbed Storm King Peak, another high thirteener at 13,752 feet. It
was a really fun climb, lots of easy rock scrambling up a really nice arete,
and there was one spectacular notch through which we could see Lake Silex,
which still had quite a bit of ice on it despite it being August. (Not
only is it above 12,000 feet, it's surrounded by very high mountains so it's in
the shade most of the time.)
Then it was a long slog down nasty big talus slopes to the lake, and then an even nastier bushwhack down the lower slopes of Storm King Peak to Stormy Gulch below, where we encountered an actual trail for the first time in days! We also descended below 12,000 feet for the first time in days, and camped in a beat-out old outfitter's camp at the incredibly low elevation of 11,000 feet. Actually below treeline!
Above to the right is Lake Silex as seen from the notch on Storm King; Ilana climbing the arete, Rolf on the summit, and Storm King as seen from Stormy Gulch.
In the morning we struck out away from the trail again, contouring along the 11,000 foot mark to get into the Vallecito drainage. Off-trail below treeline is much less pleasant than off-trail above treeline, and we wandered around trying to keep out of the thickest trees. Eventually we found an old trail and followed it up the valley until it dissipated, but by then we were nearly to Lake Vallecito (which is the headwaters of the Vallecito River, not to be confused with Vallecito Reservoir where it is dammed). The lake is a beautiful yet unnatural shade of blue due to a mineral spring that feeds it; it is very clear, and there are no fish. After lunch we did the painful climb out on the scree slope above the lake toward the pass to its north; before reaching the summit we dropped our packs and struck out to climb White Dome, 13,627 feet. Lots of intriguing slabs to scramble up - we found a really neat ramp route that got us to the upper part of the mountain, which was just a big pile of (white) rocks. From the top we could see Eldorado Lake on the other side, our day's final destination. When we got to the lake and set up camp, Britt still hadn't had enough, and he went off in search of fish - and caught a big feast in one of the little surrounding lakes for our last night out!
Kristen and Ilana above Lake Vallecito, the slabs of White Dome, and fishies! Below is a view into Elk Creek valley from the Continental Divide Trail.
The
last day's hike, along the Continental Divide Trail (practically a freeway as
far as trails go) was a relatively long 8 or so miles, but as we had eaten
most of our food and were all in great shape after the week in the high peaks,
it flew by. (Okay, maybe the fact that it was flat-to-downhill all the
way had something to do with it.) The terrain was very different from
what we'd been in - high, rolling mesas instead of pointy peaks. We
were very close to the wilderness boundary and at one point saw a huge herd of
sheep (Britt calls them "mountain maggots") grazing one of the hillsides just
outside. In the valley below was the sheepherder, probably a Peruvian
hired for pennies, with his horse and wall tent. We got to the car we'd
left at the second trailhead in early afternoon and headed in to Silverton,
where we had huge scoops of ice cream before doing the long, long drive back to
the Vallecito trailhead to collect our other vehicles.
