Mountain Victories

Mountain Victories

by David Barth
compiled July 1995

This group of reflections on climbs of some Colorado peaks over 14,000 feet elevation were made within a few days of each climb, simply to document the experience.
Formalizing these reports was prompted by a dinner at Tortilla Flat, our favorite Denver restaurant, where Carol and I met Phil Beazley and Holly for dinner in August 1993. We began comparing stories about our experiences climbing Fourteeners, and I recalled that I had always wanted to gather these short reports into one document. Here it is.
After hearing about the project, Carol, acutely aware of my penchant for verboseness, suggested the title of this work should be "Tall Tales of Tall Mountains." Actually, I attempted to tell the story from an objective viewpoint, relating the good times, the bad times, and the stupid mistakes, of which there were too many.

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Ascent 1. June 24, 1967
Longs Peak, elevation 14,256
with Jack, John, and Pete Barth.
I drove to the Longs Peak Campground to meet Uncle Jack and Aunt Polly Barth and their sons, John and Pete, on Sunday, June 23, 1967. They had driven out from their home in California. Also on the trip were Pete and Aletha Moser, long time family friends, and the Barth's very intelligent German Shepherd, Udo. Pete and Aletha were long time residents of Denver and had met my grandparents and their sons in the 1920s when the Barth family moved into a house in their neighborhood, at 33rd and Utica in Denver. The Mosers befriended three generations of Barths and he were long-time campers and climbers of fourteeners.
Upon my arrival at the campground in my 1965 Corvette, I drove around the camp and noticed that there were only a couple of sites left. I placed my thermos on the table of the best of the two with a note for the others when they arrived. I left to go to the nearest town to purchase some more film. On the way down, I met the others coming up the road and told them of the site.
After feasting on a sumptuous meal prepared by Polly and Aletha, we sat around the camp fire chatting. It was after dark when I left to go to the out-house. Since I usually jogged everywhere I went, even in the dark, I returned to the camp on the run and was met by Udo who leaped up and charged to the road to challenge me. He jerked his twenty-foot rope tight, catching Polly's camp chair, flipping her to the ground. Upon seeing large fangs on a snarling face, I slid to a stop in the gravel on the road. Udo immediately recognized me and backed off. He seemed to feel badly that he had mistaken a friend for an enemy. The incident was entirely my fault. I should have approached much more cautiously to allow him to recognize me before I entered camp. My cousins, John and Pete, and I slept in a large tent that night, and I remember feeling quite safe with Udo nearby.
Jack, John, Pete, and I began the climb from the Longs Peak Ranger station at 4:45 AM Monday morning. I had taken that day off work to make the trip. We went via the keyhole route, both ways. We had a magnificent view of the sun rising on the east face, called the Diamond, as we climbed through Jim's Grove. Beyond the Grove was the Boulder Field that seemed to stretch forever. At the Keyhole we rested and investigated the small rock shelter. There was certainly ample building material all over the place. By the time we reached Broadway, the clouds were forming so we didn't get to see the sheer drop below us. It was just as well for me since I don't like being close to drop-offs.
John was in great physical condition and led all the way, although I tried to match his very fast pace. Fortunately, he stopped to let us catch up once in awhile. John and I reached the summit at 11:10 AM in heavy cloud cover so we didn't have a view. We forgot to sign the register that the Colorado Mountain Club used to leave on all of the 14,000 foot summits. John and I left the summit at 11:20 AM and caught up with Jack and Pete who had turned around to head back when they reached the "home stretch," a broad, flat, solid rock ramp to the summit. Their decision was based on a turn-around time which turned out to be a good idea because it began to rain soon after. The next year Jack and Pete returned to Colorado to climb Longs.
We arrived at the Ranger Station at 4 PM, making our round trip time on the mountain nearly twelve hours. This was the first fourteener I had climbed, and, although I was exhausted, I enjoyed the challenge and decided to see if my hiking partner, Al Schmidt, would be interested in climbing a fourteener with me.

Ascent 2. August 27, 1967
Longs Peak, elevation 14, 256
with Al Schmidt.
This was the second climb of Longs Peak for me. The reasons I elected to do it again were that I wanted to begin climbing fourteeners with Al, and since this was a very interesting climb and one I was familiar with, I thought he might enjoy it. Also, I had forgotten to sign the register on the trip with Uncle Jack's family and the Mosers, so I felt I needed to go up again to prove I had climbed the peak.
We arrived at the Longs Ranger Station on Saturday, the 26th of August, at 6 PM. We began the climb that evening at 7:15 PM, planning to camp at Jim's Grove, a stand of trees near tree line. The skies were cloudy, and we hoped it wouldn't rain. We arrived at Jim's Grove after dark at 8:45 PM. I recall that I was chilly in my old square sleeping bag that I had purchased from Gart Brothers Sporting Goods store earlier that year. It was filled with a synthetic fiber and wasn't designed for cold weather use.
At 5:30 Sunday morning we stashed our sleeping bags in the trees on Jim's Grove and headed for the summit. Fortunately, it was going to be a clear day. Crossing the Boulder Field, we took the cutoff to the left to head for the Cable Route, a scary approach to the summit that is more direct than the Keyhole route, but dangerous since it passes beside the East Face and a 2,000 foot drop. Ice covered the bottom of the channel in the rocks we crawled up.
We reached the cable at 8 AM. It ran up the riskiest part, about 300 feet long. The cables were held in place by steel bars about an inch in diameter, drilled into the rock, with an eye on top through which the inch diameter steel cable passed. The bars held the cable about a foot off the rocks. (Later, purists had the cables removed to satisfy those who said that a National Park shouldn't have mechanical aids for climbing.) We saw no other climbers on the cable route.
After the cable ended, there was a long reach to the summit consisting of large rocks forming huge stair steps, each step about three feet high. They were jumbled so that by winding a little it wasn't too difficult to ascend. However, the surface was covered by a fine gravel causing us to step carefully lest we slip on it. We arrived on the summit at 9 AM and signed the register. The weather was beautiful, and we counted 18 other climbers on the summit.
We departed the summit at 11 AM, descending via the Key Hole route which we decided was much safer for going down than the cable route would have been. Many other climbers were on the trail. Al and I had an unspoken attitude that going fast, up or down, was good, so we tended to lope down the trail at a good pace, passing the slower hikers. We traded each other on taking the lead, finding that following was easier than leading because the guy in the lead had to pick the best route, and the guy following simply plodded along behind. When the leader tired and slowed up, the guy in back would surge ahead and take the lead.
We arrived at Jim's Grove at 2 PM, located our sleeping bags, and ate lunch. I fell into the habit of taking a tuna sandwich and a can of V8 juice. For some reason, that combination really tasted good and gave me lots of energy for the rest of a hike.
Departing the Grove at 3:15 PM, we arrived at the Longs Peak Ranger Station at 4:25 PM, making our total en route hiking time 9 hours, three hours shorter than the previous trip. The faster time was due to two factors. First, we went up via the cables which cut off a lot of trail, and, second, the friendly competition that Al and I had for high-speed moving on the trail kept the time low.
The trip had been good and gave me a satisfied feeling that I had successfully climbed a high mountain. Climbing a fourteener gave me a sense of self-satisfaction. Although Al and I had climbed lower mountains before Longs, after that trip, all of our climbs were on the big mountains.


Ascent 3. September 10, 1967
Mt. Bierstadt, elevation 14,060
with Lynn Kleinschmidt
I decided to introduce my girlfriend, Lynn, to mountain climbing. My physical condition following a summer of mountain hiking with Al, capped by two ascents of Longs was excellent. I remember going to the doctor during this era and surprising the nurse with an at-rest heart beat of 40 per minute. My cardiovascular system was running at a high efficiency. Certainly, above 13,000 I recognized signs of hypoxia in the tingling of my fingers and slight ache at the lower back of my head, but at the age of twenty-five, my body had quickly adapted.
On the other hand, Lynn was in good condition, but was not used to high altitude hiking. I didn't realize this until we were above tree line.
I picked Lynn up at her apartment early in the morning, and we arrived on Guanella Pass (elevation 11,669), 12 miles southwest of Georgetown. We began the ascent from the road at 7:15 AM, trudging through a quarter mile of swampy land covered with dense willow bushes. Little meandering creeks with grass-covered banks kept us looking for firm ground on which to take our next step.
After the willow bushes, the relatively flat side of Bierstadt was a relief. There was no trail, but the hike was easy, at least for me. Lynn began to feel the effects of the altitude around the 12,500 foot level and said she couldn't go any farther. She insisted that I continue to the summit and she would wait until I returned. The terrain on the side of the mountain was open so that I wouldn't miss her if my descent took me to one side or the other of her position. She lay down on the ground and said she would nap until I got back. The sun shone though a high overcast, and Lynn was warmly dressed, so I knew she would be warm enough.
On the way up I saw several deer. I wondered why they would be in this seemingly foodless environment. Maybe they had left lower elevations in anticipation of hunting season. I arrived at the summit at 11:45 AM. The book "Guide to the Colorado Mountains," by Robert M. Ormes (1955), estimates the time to the summit is 2 1/2 hours, but my 4 1/2 hour trek was slowed in the beginning by the swampy area with the bushes.
On the summit I could see over to the summit of Mt. Evans that connected it to Bierstadt by a knife-edged ridge. I decided to yell "Hello" at Mt. Evans, and I received a reply which wasn't my echo, but I couldn't see who had answered. The acoustics were such that at times I could hear two men talking in a normal voice on Evans, more than a mile away.
I trekked back down, met Lynn, and we got back to the car at 1:30. On the walk through the bushes a light rain began to fall. I decided that it had been a bad decision to take Lynn on a hike like this. She wasn't really interested in mountain climbing, anyway.



Ascents 4 and 5.
September 24, 1967
Grays Peak and Torreys Peak, elevations 14,270 and 14,267, respectively with Al Schmidt.
We drove to the Steven's mine on a road that left US 40 at Bakerville. I-70 had not yet been built to Bakerville, and US 40 was only a two-lane road. At that time the restaurant at Bakerville was still operating, (it burned in 1972 leaving only the fireplace and chimney standing). The road to the mine was a one-lane trail through beautiful stands of aspen trees. We parked the car at the mine and began hiking at 9 AM. We passed two mounted sheep herders with their sheep dogs heading up the mountain for a round up. We could hear sheep bleating all the way up Grays, nearly to the summit.
We arrived on top of Grays at 11:45 AM. At 12:25, after eating lunch, we crossed the saddle to Torreys. On this day we were the second pair to reach Torreys, getting there at 1 PM.
We left the summit at 1:30 PM, went to the low point in the saddle and then turned left to go down a steep scree slope that was easy to manage by letting the heels of our boots crunch through the black gravel as we descended. We arrived at the car at 3:30 PM. As we drove out to US 40, the road was clogged by sheep collected on the round up. I let Al drive my Corvette while I walked beside the sheep herder, taking photographs of the sheep.
As a note of interest, both of the registers were placed on the peaks by Al Osinger, a member of the Colorado Mountain Club who I had met on a hike.


Ascent 6. October 8, 1967
Mt. Elbert, elevation 14,431
with Al Schmidt.
We drove south from Leadville to a dirt road that headed west for a few miles, to the intersection of Half Moon Creek and Main Range Trail, 1/2 mile west of Emerald Lake. We parked and began the climb to Colorado's highest summit, starting out at 10 AM. Hiking southwest through the forest, we had to go up and down several hummocks which made for slow going. After we reached tree line the climbing became much easier. We trekked up a broad, grassy ridge that ran southwest, then dog-legged to the left, up a steep boulder-covered ridge to the summit. The tan grasses on the broad ridge contrasted with the deep blue sky and the dark gray rocks on the dog leg ridge.
Near the place where the broad ridge turned left to the rocky final leg to the summit, Al and I sat down to rest and take in the view. Al always wore sunglasses on sunny days. Sometimes I did, too, but my eyes weren't sensitive to sunlight unless there were a reflective rock or snow surface. During our ten minute rest stop, Al wandered around looking at some of the minute tundra plants that would be hidden beneath a blanket of snow in a few weeks. As we got ready to make the final assault on the summit, Al realized that somewhere he had misplaced his sunglasses. We spent fifteen minutes searching the area and never did find them. The tundra grasses were thin and short, and we were certain that we should be able to spot Al's sun glasses. However, our efforts went unrewarded, and Al lost his temper. He was mad about losing the glasses which were expensive and nearly new.
Climbing up the boulders on the steep north side of the mountain, nearing the 14,000 foot level, was hard work, and we stopped to catch our breath every few yards. I noticed that Al wasn't keeping up in his usual manner. He kept falling farther behind. Finally, I climbed down to his position and asked if he was alright. He said that he was giving up on the climb and that I should go ahead and meet him at this spot on the way down. I was flabbergasted. This was not like Al. I wondered if he had contracted altitude sickness, an illness common in the Himalayas, Andes, and on other high peaks. However, this malady wasn't common for a person like Al who was in good physical condition. Besides, we were relatively low compared to the really high peaks.
I told Al that if he was quitting, I was, too. This was a psychological ploy on my part. You don't beat the heck out of your body to get within 500 feet of a summit and then quit without signing the register. You may as well have not even made the attempt. It doesn't count. You can't tell people that you "almost made it to the top of Mt. Elbert." Shucks, a lot of people could claim that by climbing a ladder to clean the gutters of their house is "almost making it to the top of Mt. Elbert." Well, then it struck me as to what had happened. In Al's rage, his adrenal glands must have dumped adrenaline into his blood stream. This is good for a short-term burst of energy, but after a few minutes, you go into a slight depression as the hormone is diluted in the body. Al's strength was nearly gone. All he wanted to do was lie on the rocks and take a nap.
However, I had different plans. I got out our ten foot poly rope that we always carried but, until now, had never had to use. I tied it around his chest, climbed up above him, and began pulling him up the slope. He realized that a nap was out of the question and began to crawl as well as he could. Slowly we made our way to the summit.
We reached the top at 3 PM, ate lunch, and Al took a nap and got his strength back. On the summit was a wooden marker with a red and white cloth attached. The weather was perfect when we began the descent at 3:45 PM and continued to be perfect the rest of the day. We came down via the northeast ridge without benefit of a trail, but the terrain allowed for a rapid descent. The north ridge we had come up allowed for magnificent views of the peak, unlike the northeast ridge which did not. However, the northeast ridge might provide a faster ascent. My log from that trip says of our route up, "Be prepared for exhaustive climb up last 1,000 feet to summit."
We arrived at the car at 6:15 PM, having moved down from the summit at a very fast pace, trying to make up time lost during the ascent and rest period on the summit. We estimated the one-way distance to the summit was 5 miles.


Ascent 7. November 11, 1967
Quandary Peak, elevation 14,264
with Al Schmidt
We hadn't planned on making a climb this late in the season, but out of sheer boredom on Saturday afternoon, decided to take a scouting trip of the area to see what the mountains in the area looked like. We drove on Colorado highway 9, turning west up a creek just north of were the road crosses the pass. We went about 1/4 mile and at 3:45 PM parked the car at the 11,000 foot level, according to the topographical map.
The weather was perfect. We crossed a road under construction and climbed onto a ridge. We began hiking up the ridge. Each of us wanted to capture an easy mountain victory, so we said nothing to each other, hoping the other wouldn't chicken out and suggest that it was getting too late to attempt a climb to the summit. This was our competitive spirit kicking in. We really weren't competing against each other, but we were competing against the weather and nature. We pressed ahead at a strong pace, our spirits high from the excitement of getting an easy fourteener after thinking the weekend would be shot since it was so late in the year. Above tree line, we passed a man and woman coming down. We exchanged greetings and they gave us a quizzical look that suggested, "They couldn't possibly be making an attempt on the summit this late in the day, could they?"
Sunset arrived around 5 PM and by 5:30 it was dark. Fortunately, the ridge was smooth and we were able to continue onward and upward. For us, this was adventure. We were taking a chance, and we fully expected to beat the odds and make a successful night descent without falling over a precipice.
We were in luck as a 3/4 moon rose to provide just enough light to see where we were going. The weather was holding, but when we arrived on the summit at 6:05 PM, the wind was fierce and the wind chill was incredible. Although we wore winter jackets and gloves, we had to keep our hands in motion to keep numbness from setting in. It was difficult to sign the register because as soon as I pulled off a glove to sign, the intense cold began to make my fingers stiffen. We finally got the register signed by flashlight. We drank juice and then elected to get off the cold summit, departing at 6:35 PM. The moonlight was quite sufficient to see by, and we never needed to use the flashlight on the descent.
Our time from the car to the summit was a fast-paced 2 hours and 20 minutes, non-stop all the way. We arrived back at the car at 9:05 PM, for a descent time of 2 hours and 30 minutes. Normally, we consider the time to get down should require approximately one-half to two thirds of the time to get to the top of a peak. This trip was different because we slowed our pace on the way down due to the darkness.
There is no doubt that this was a reckless and irresponsible trip. Had anything happened to one of us, he probably wouldn't have been recovered from the mountain until after he expired from hypothermia. This is not a recommended way to climb, and we were careless in doing it.


Ascent 8. November 26, 1967
Uncompahgre Peak, elevation 14,309
with Al Schmidt
As if we hadn't learned our lesson on Quandary, Al and I headed out to climb the remote, mysterious, and totally ugly Uncompahgre Peak. We drove in my Corvette to Lake City on Saturday evening, November 25. Referring to the directions in Ormes' mountain climbing guide book, "Guide to the Colorado Mountains," we asked for directions to the ranger cabin on Nellie Creek. We were told that the ranger cabin no longer existed, but that there was an abandoned cabin on the northwest corner of the junction of the Nellie and Henson creek roads.
We drove west out of Lake City on the Henson Creek Road, turning north on the Nellie Creek Road. There we found no cabin, only a national forest out-house. If that is what our direction-giver meant about a cabin, the joke was on us.
We parked the car on a level spot on Nellie Creek Road about fifty yards north of the intersection of Henson Creek Road. By this time night had fallen, and we used our flashlights to lay our sleeping bags out on the ground on top of inch thick foam pads we had purchased. I had come prepared for cold weather with two hand warmers which I tossed into the bag. They kept we warm enough to get a decent sleep. Al didn't sleep quite as well since he didn't have a hand warmer and had the same type of useless sleeping bag that I had. When we went to sleep the sky was clear and, very fortunately for us, there was no wind. Both of us slept fully clothed in our parkas.
Needless to say, it got cold that night, but I don't know how low the mercury dipped. It snowed that night, and we woke up the next morning with two inches of fresh powder snow on our bags. Perhaps the blanket of snow had afforded a bit more warmth by virtue of its insulating qualities.
After getting up and grabbing a bit of cold breakfast, we put chains on the Corvette and began driving north on Nellie Creek Road. It immediately became apparent that this was folly because the ends of the chains were beating on the fiberglass fenders, considered a "no-no" by Corvette owners. So we took the chains off, parked the car where we had camped, and struck out on foot at 6:20 AM on November 26.
The snow on Nellie Creek Road was about four inches deep, but it was very powdery because of the low temperatures. The topographical map indicated that the distance to Uncompahgre was 8 miles from our camp with an elevation gain of 5,300 feet. We knew we had a long day ahead of us. As we walked down the road several times we saw peaks come into view, but as we continued on we realized it they weren't Uncompahgre. The road weaved between these hills. I regretted not having a jeep or other four-wheel drive vehicle because we could have driven five miles up this road. As it was, we had to walk all the way. Al got warm and decided to shed a layer of clothing. He chose a light jacket beneath his parka. Instead of putting it in his pack, he simply hung it on a tree limb beside the road in full sight. We figured it would be safe because only idiots like us would be out here this time of year. However, we never saw that jacket again because it was dark when we returned, and we missed seeing it.
Although it wasn't difficult to walk in the snow, we found that it was easy to slip on it or on a slab of ice, unseen beneath it. I untied the two pair of steel World War II army crampons from my pack, and we donned them. Although they were heavier than modern mountain equipment, the price I paid for them at the surplus store was attractive. Our progress picked up as our confidence in our footing soared. They were noisy and clanked as we walked, but they did the job. The snow muffled the clanking somewhat so we didn't sound too noisy trudging down the road.
Finally, we rounded a bend, and I saw a mountain standing by itself to the right. I told Al I thought it must be the mountain. We left the road and began climbing the steep trail. About ten minutes later we stopped for a rest. I looked out through the branches of the trees to the west and saw the real Uncompahgre. There it was, looking just like the photographs in the books, rising like a lone monument, standing guard over the lesser peaks, and very foreboding. To me it looked like a "killer" mountain. Of course, at this time of year, it was. But once again, Al and I were very lucky.
We descended from this "false fourteener" and a mile beyond the road, we had a choice to make. We stood on the edge of a shallow bowl. To get to the base of the peak we could go either right or left to walk around the ridge that formed the outside of the bowl, or we could just plunge directly across the bowl and make a beeline for the base. We were pretty tired and took the opportunity to sit down and rest while we pondered the question of which direction to go. It was about 11 AM by this time, and we had been going for about nearly four and a half hours. We were hungry so we ate lunch.
We decided to take the shortcut and cross the bowl. This was a time-consuming mistake. As we entered the bowl the snow depth got a little deeper. I thought, "No problem, we can handle this snow." Then it was a foot deep. Still no problem. When it reached our knees, I began to realize that we had made a mistake. Al and I discussed abandoning the bowl, but we were already a third of the way across it and we didn't want to waste any precious time, so we elected to plow ahead. And plow we did. At the center of the bowl the snow depth was three feet, up to our waists, and we struggled like mastodons in a tar pit to continue our forward progress.
Finally we were on the other side, glad to be out of the snow. High winds had whipped the snow clear of the peak and its approaches, so we hastened our pace, trying to make up lost time. A nice trail led up the southwest ridge of the peak, but it was on ice-covered rock most of the way. The climb couldn't have been done safely without the crampons.
We made the summit at 2:50 PM. It was windy on the summit with the expected low temperatures caused by the wind chill. I was exhausted after pushing through the snow in the bowl. Al was in better shape, not as tired. We sat behind a rock outcrop, shielded from the wind, and opened the register. The last entry was a note from a climber who had made the summit on November 18th. He assumed that he would be the last to make the climb in 1967 and wrote a message for a friend of his who was expected to make the first climb of 1968. He left two cigarettes in the canister for his friend. Al and I, being non-smokers, considered any outdoors man who smoked to be stupid.
After signing the register below the November 18th entry, messing up this guy's cute little plan to be the last climber in 1967, we carelessly broke the cigarettes getting them back into the canister. We chuckled as we headed down the mountain at 3 PM.
We had learned our lesson about crossing the bowl and took the left rim going back. As the light faded and darkness fell, the temperature really dropped. Even wearing our heavy winter clothing, hooded parkas, and walking fast, we got cold. We arrived at the car at 6:50 PM. Both of us were exhausted because of the energy expended by the 5,300 foot elevation gain, from the energy to battle the intense cold, because we were walking through snow, because we were wearing heavy crampons, and because our food intake for the past twenty-four hours had consisted of a light breakfast and a sandwich and juice for lunch. Obviously, we had underestimated the amount of food and warm clothing required for this trip. We had been on the trail 12 1/2 hours. We drove back to Denver, taking turns driving while the other slept.
Had we been caught by a fast-moving winter storm, we probably couldn't have survived out on the trail. Had one of us been incapacitated by a broken leg or other accident, it would have taken a long time for the other person to get to the car and drive back to Lake City to summon help. The question in such a situation is how long could the stranded person survive, even in a snow cave, considering we had no food or water?
Pete Moser admonished me for making this trip, and he was absolutely correct. He and Aletha had climbed many of Colorado's fourteeners, and they knew how dangerous the mountains could be, especially during the winter. We finally got it through our heads that we would need a lot more expertise and equipment, including emergency communication gear, if we were to continue winter climbing. We gave up and waited until next summer for our next ascent.


Ascents 9, 10, 11, and 12. June 30, 1968
Mt. Democrat, elevation 14,148
Mt. Cameron, elevation 14,238
Mt. Lincoln, elevation 14,284
Mt. Bross, elevation 14,172
with Al Schmidt
Al and I decided to begin climbing again in June following our difficult winter ascent of Uncompahgre. We found that we could do four fourteeners in one day, and that was attractive because it would dramatically increase the count of the mountains we had conquered.
These mountains are in the Mosquito Range, west of Fairplay. By this time I drove a 1964 Imperial, replacing the small, cramped Corvette with the large, heavy car with plenty of room. It was a move from one extreme to the other, but I liked the smooth ride, the automatic shift, and the tons of room.
We drove the "Imp" (1964 Chrysler Imperial) to Kite Lake, a large pond at 12,000 feet surrounded by the four peaks, and began the trip at 8 AM. We climbed west to the top of Mt. Democrat, arriving there at 10 AM. There was a high wind. Since the Uncompahgre climb, I had begin to carry a three-inch diameter thermometer tied to the back of my pack that Al could read when I was in the lead. The temperature was 30 degrees on Democrat. Looking to the southwest we could see the huge Climax Molybdenum mine and the waste material in the expansive settling ponds downstream. (The mine was closed in the 1980s.)
We descended the shallow saddle and soon were on Mt. Cameron. We signed the register which consisted of a beer bottle containing a few slips of paper with names and dates on them. At that time there was disagreement as to whether Cameron was a true fourteener or just a high saddle between Mt. Democrat and Mt. Lincoln.. Those who thought it ought to be a real fourteener, including us, noted our climb in the unofficial beer bottle. (I don't remember the brand of beer that it had contained.) Since each climber had to supply his own slip of paper for the register, we took the outer wrapper off a Hershey bar, signed our names and placed it in the bottle.
We crossed another shallow saddle and arrived on Mt. Lincoln at 1:30 PM. We saw a yellow truck about 100 yards from the summit of Lincoln, on the east ridge. Several roads had been scraped in the gravelly terrain, and some shacks had been built, probably for mining purposes.
Since the route to Mt. Bross is from the saddle between Cameron and Lincoln, we returned to that spot to eat lunch before continuing to Bross. At 2PM we hiked to Bross across a ridge that had very high winds, reaching the summit at 2:30 PM. The wind was so high that we had to lean into it to keep from losing our balance. We noticed Caterpillar tread marks on the summit of Bross and a crude road had been scraped on the ridge between Cameron and Bross. We saw several mine shafts on these mountains, so apparently there were minerals worth mining. The weather was clear, and we could see smoke from a forest fire on Mt. Evans.
At 3 PM we left Bross to return to the car by going directly down the south ridge, then, at the 13,200 foot level, turned west toward Kite Lake to descend down the steep slope consisting of scree. We thought we had seen a trail marker. The route was very steep, covered by gullies formed by rock slides. By the time we realized we were way off the trail, we were too far down and too tired to climb back up, so we carefully picked our way down, digging our heels into the gravel and keeping a hand on the face of the mountain. It took us 1 1/2 hours to descend the 1200 feet down to Kite Lake, much of it on the seat of our pants. This route is not recommended. We arrived at the car at 5 PM.


Ascent 13. July 1968
Mt. Evans, elevation 14,260
with Doug Shellenberger
Doug is a friend I met in the Navy when we served aboard the nuclear submarine Lafayette (SSBN 616). We enjoyed the outdoors and photography. When he got out of the Navy in 1967, a year after I did, he migrated to Washington state where he went to forestry school, later becoming a timber cruiser for the Washington Division of Natural Resources. During the summer of 1968 he came out to visit. I took a week off of work to show him Colorado, including Rocky Mountain National Park, the Air Force Academy, the Garden of the Gods, Royal Gorge, the Sand Dunes, the Maroon Bells area, Glenwood Canyon, and, finally, Mt. Evans which we decided to climb.
We started out in late morning from Summit Lake, going straight up the slope toward the peak. The surface consisted of tundra with rocky areas. Small wild flowers grew between the rocks. We saw either mountain sheep or goats. I have trouble distinguishing between the two except when I see a large, curly horn which I attribute to the sheep.
We ate lunch on the summit which, as I recall, didn't have a register, ostensibly because visitors could drive up the road and sign it. The summit is several hundred yards from the visitor center, and about a hundred feet above it. We viewed Grays and Torreys and Mt. Bierstadt. As we descended, clouds (fog) engulfed the summit, and we were fog-bound until we returned to Summit Lake. It was a good climb, requiring five hours, round trip.


Ascent 14. August 10, 1968
Mt. Sherman, elevation 14,036
with Al Schmidt
Heading south out of Fairplay, we turned west on Four-Mile Creek Road and drove to Leavick, an abandoned ghost town. We began hiking at 9:15 AM after flipping a rock to decide whether to climb directly up the side of White Ridge or climb from the southeast. The southeast route won the toss, so we started up the ridge a half-mile east of where we parked the car.
There were several false summits as we headed for the peak, and we crossed a thirteener, elevation 13,684, en route to the summit, where we arrived at 1 PM. On top, we napped for a half hour. I ate Fritos with my V8 juice. I had forgotten my usual tuna fish sandwich. The ascent was not long or difficult, but it was exasperating because of the numerous false summits and overcast sky.
From the summit we could see one of the Twin Lakes and the town of Leadville, but no other fourteener peaks due to the low clouds. We could see the bases of Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive, the first and second highest Colorado peaks.
At 2 PM we left the summit, electing to go around the 13,684 foot peak. This was a mistake because we struggled to walk around the summit on the forty-five degree rock field. In addition, sleet began to fall, and, as we descended, it became rain. I had rain gear, but Al got soaked because he hadn't brought his. We got back to the car at 4 PM.


Ascent 15. August 17, 1968
Mt. Yale, elevation 14,196
with Al Schmidt
This was our fourth attempt to climb Mt. Yale. The first defeat occurred when we went up the wrong ridge, the one to the east of Denney Gulch. It was too difficult a climb, and we gave up.
The second defeat was when we were rained out. We had arrived at the Collegiate Peaks Campground on a Friday night in a rain which continued into Saturday, and we never began the hike.
The third defeat happened when we got as far as Colorado Springs on the way to Mt. Yale. A hard rain began, so we turned around and went back to Denver.
The fourth attempt began when we drove into the Collegiate Peaks Campground at 5 AM and began the climb fifteen minutes later. Pete Moser had told us of a tree just above tree line with a gnarled trunk in the shape of a horse. Pete said he had named the horse "Prince." We found that tree, still there after Pete and Aletha had seen it some forty years earlier.
After our lesson learned during the first defeat on Mt. Yale, we took the ridge to the left of Denney Gulch, arriving on the summit at 10:30 AM, five hours and 4,350 feet elevation gain from the car. We departed the summit at 11 AM and ate lunch with Prince. We arrived at the car at 1:15 PM, exhausted.


Ascent 16. May 24, 1969
Shavano Peak, elevation 14,229
with John Barth
John and I departed Denver in his blue VW at 6 AM on Saturday. We ate breakfast from 9 to 9:30 AM at the junction south of Buena Vista. As instructed by the book, "Guide to the Colorado Mountains," we asked permission of the rancher's wife to cross her land to get to the base of Shavano. She said it was OK. The temperature was 75 degrees, and there was no wind. It was a beautiful day.
We parked the car at 10:30 AM and began the ascent up the east ridge which turned out to be the one for the 13,611 foot peak south of Shavano. After discovering this, we turned northwest toward the ridge thrusting east from Shavano. In the valley between the ridges we found the Shavano Trail, following it west, up the gully, until it disappeared. The Shavano Trail head had been wiped out by lumbering in the area. We discovered that the best way to find the trail when ascending the mountain is to go to the Blank cabin which was fairly easy to locate, then go about a quarter of a mile north and continue north, up the valley.
We climbed to the east ridge and made the summit at 2:45 PM. There were only a few patches of snow near the summit. The register indicated that John and I were the first climbers to make the ascent in 1969. The temperature on the summit was 45 degrees F.
We ate lunch, and I had my usual tuna sandwich and V8 juice. I also had some Fritos along on this trip. After lunch John scouted the route over the saddle to Tabegauche Peak, and he was enthusiastic about going over to it. I was worried about the amount of daylight remaining, but, in retrospect, I should have taken John's advice. It would have been an easy double victory, and as fast as we moved, we would have been back before it got too dark.
John estimated the elevation drop in the saddle was only about 600 feet, and the trip over and back would take only about an hour and a half. I wasn't in as good physical condition as John and I had a slight headache in the back of my head, probably from hypoxia. John agreed that under these conditions, we should return. I regretted not doing Tabegauche, but that regret magnified a hundred times when Al and I finally did do it, but that's another story.
We started down Shavano at 4:15 PM, deciding that the best route for this mountain is the valley on the south side of the main east-west ridge we had ascended. Pete and Aletha Moser had told me about the "Shavano Angel," a figure formed by snow fields on the east face of the mountain, mentioned in the books on Colorado mountaineering. It was evident from the car as we neared the mountain, but when we were on it, the snow fields were simply huge white areas. John and I glissaded down the angel, which must have been a half mile or more in length to tree line.
Just below tree line we passed an old cabin and found Shavano Trail which we followed back to the car, arriving at 6:30 PM. We got back to Denver at 10 PM.


Ascent 17. June 29, 1969
Tabegauche Peak, elevation 14,155
with Al Schmidt
Al and I departed Denver at 5 AM. We stopped in Buena Vista to eat breakfast at the Dinner Bell Cafe at Junction 285 at 7:15 AM. We left the restaurant at 7:45 and headed for Shavano Campground, six miles northwest of Maysville, a small town west of Salida. We arrived at the campground at 8:45 AM and departed for the summit at 9:15 via the low tree-clad ridge that begins just northwest of the campground, west of Denney Creek.
This ridge intersects the southeast side of a 13,185 foot peak. At this intersection is a rocky out-cropping that we traversed to tree line. Although this route was recommended in "Guide to the Colorado Mountains," it turned out to be one of the worst routes we had climbed. The surface consisted of angular boulders about a foot across, all in a jumble, the result of an ancient rock fall. Walking on them was difficult since we had to pick out each step carefully to avoid stepping into a crevice between the rocks which could bruise an ankle bone.
At tree line we ate lunch and rested. We had been climbing for nearly five hours, and we weren't half way to the summit. I was thoroughly regretting that I hadn't done this mountain with John Barth on the previous trip when we climbed Shavano. At 2 PM we continued upward on the rocks, angling our route to meet the saddle between the 13,185 foot peak and Tabegauche.
When we finally reached the low point in the saddle, we hiked northeast along it toward the summit. We couldn't see the real summit and were fooled by four false summits. On the saddle there is a 15 foot cliff just east of the real summit that we had to use care to get over. We finally reached the top at 5 PM, nearly eight hours after leaving the car. This was one of the toughest climbs we ever made. I recall wishing I had a hang glider to jump off the summit and glide back to the car.
Since we had eaten lunch at tree line three and a half hours earlier, we had nothing to satisfy our hunger, so we left the peak at 5:30 PM after a half hour rest. We retraced our route up until we got to the talus-covered west ridge coming off Tabegauche and headed directly down it toward the campground. The descent wasn't too difficult, but, like our route up, it was long. At 7 PM we hit tree line near where we had eaten lunch, moving as fast as we dared across the rough, rocky terrain. We decided it would be easier walking down beside Jennings Creek, but that route was difficult because we had to cross and re-cross the creek to get by the sheer walls that occasionally rose up from one side of the creek or the other.
Finally, the creek had cut a canyon so deep that we climbed back up to the ridge on the west side. As we looked down the creek from the ridge, we saw that it was impassable due to crashing falls, vertical walls, and no place to walk. We finally reached the car at 9:30, almost fourteen hours after we started out. The final hour we were in starlight because the full moon had not yet risen. Interestingly, at these elevations, when the sky isn't blocked by trees, you can actually see by the stars, but it is dim light and it takes a little time for one's eyes to adjust. We found ourselves trying to avoid the shadows.
I decided that the book's author, Robert Ormes, who had recommended this route up Tabegauche, had never really done it himself, and had probably selected it by looking at a topographical chart. This route, if selected, should be done in two days. Fortunately, we were in fairly good physical condition and able to complete the trip. The only viable route that I knew of was the one over Shavano which would have taken half the time.
Our trip length was eight miles and the elevation gain was 4,000 feet. We arrived in Denver at 2:30 AM Monday. Going to work that day was difficult.


Ascent 18. July 4, 1970
Antero Peak, elevation 14,269
by myself
An acquaintance who was a member of the Colorado Mountain Club phoned me Wednesday evening to say that he and another CMC member, Donna Murphy, were going to camp at Antero Peak, and invited me to jeep with them on Friday. I had to work Friday, but said I could meet them Saturday morning at the campground. They didn't plan to climb the peak, but invited me to join them at their campsite.
To get an early start on Friday after work, I changed clothes in the car and departed Denver at 6 PM. I had dinner at the Dinner Bell Cafe at the junction of 285 south of Buena Vista at 8:15 PM. At 8:30 I was on 285, heading south. At State 162, just south of Nathrop, I turned west and drove about 11 1/2 miles. A sign pointed to a jeep road to the left, indicating it was 7 miles to Antero.
I drove the big Chrysler Imperial about a quarter of a mile up the steep, one lane jeep road before I backed down to State 162 and parked the car there. I left the car at 9:15 PM with my pack and sleeping bag and walked up the jeep road by starlight. Compared to the Tabegauche trip, this was a piece of cake. I had a whole road to walk on in the dark.
Three miles up the road was a fork. I took the left fork and got my socks wet crossing Baldwin Creek. I spotted Donna's cream colored jeep in the dim light, but it was too dark to see where they were camped. I went on up the trail, southward, about a half mile from the jeep, where I made camp, sleeping in the bag on the ground, fully clothed with my parka on. I had made the mistake of allowing myself to get warm and perspire on the hike up, so the two undershirts and the top shirt that I wore were wet. Realizing that they wouldn't keep me warm, I took them off and laid them out beside my socks to dry before going to bed at 11:30 PM. I admired the bright stars in the cloudless sky. At this elevation, without city lights, they were bright and beautiful. The Milky Way swept across the heavens like a blue-white avenue.
The night was cold, and I slept fitfully. At 7:30 AM I got up and noted that the temperature was 30 degrees F. My campsite was in the shadow of Antero Peak or perhaps a false summit. I decided to hike to the summit before trying to locate the campsite of the two CMC members. My shirts and socks were just as wet as the night before, so I tied them to the outside of my pack, hoping they would dry while I hiked. I left my bag open on the ground to dry out and headed east, toward a rock fall at the south edge of the forest.
When I reached tree line, I saw a deer at the edge of the forest. I crossed a flat, grassy area above tree line and then started directly up the west face of Antero. The surface consisted mostly of large boulders on a steep slope. Some were loose and rocked when I pulled myself up over them. I had to be careful when I climbed on them so I wouldn't accidentally cause one to begin rolling. This was a difficult route, and it was dangerous because I was solo. I reached the summit at noon with my shirt off in the warmth and noted that the temperature had risen to 55 degrees F. When I signed the register, I noticed that another solo climber, Carolyn Altfather, had climbed Antero the day before. I made a note of the name. Clouds were gathering, so I departed the summit at 12:30 PM without eating. If it was going to rain, I wanted to be as far down the mountain as possible.
I descended via the south ridge because I didn't want to descend the rock fall. It reminded me of the steep descent on Bross which was terrifying. Also, when going up you can keep an eye on rocks that might come loose and more easily get out of their way. When going down, with your back to a steep, rocky slope, you can't watch the rocks behind you that might start to tumble down and hit your legs.
I reached a jeep road and walked down it as a light rain began to fall. When I got to my camp, I retrieved my sleeping bag. I found Jim and Donna in their Jeep, keeping out of the rain. I camped with them that evening, and we left Antero the next morning.


Ascent 19. July 11, 1970
Mt. Princeton, elevation 14,197
with Carolyn Altfather
On Thursday after the Antero climb, I found one "Altfather" in the phone book and called. Carolyn said she had indeed climbed Antero and was planning a solo ascent of Mt. Princeton the following weekend. She invited me to go along and I said OK. We agreed to meet after work Friday at her place of employment, Stearns-Roger, on Bannock and 6th Avenue in Denver.
Two of my coworkers dropped me off at Stearns-Roger and I met Carolyn for the first time. We drove away, departing the city in her yellow convertible Volkswagen bug at 7 PM. On the way out of town, we stopped to feed her pet goat, Heidi, boarded on a lot in south Denver. We drove to the boy's Camp just off of state highway 162 south of Buena Vista, arriving about 10 PM. We carried our gear from her car to an area just above the boy's camp, which was populated by young girls on an outing, and set up our tents.
We struck our tents early on Saturday and set out on the road that ran toward the Mt. Princeton trail at 5:45 AM. At 8 AM we reached the junction of the road and trail just above tree line. The trail traverses the north face of a thirteener to the east of Princeton then follows the southeast ridge up toward the summit. We arrived on the summit at noon. The temperature was a warm 70 degrees in excellent weather.
We left the summit at 12:30 PM after eating small cans of pudding, and were back at the car at 5 PM. The trail to the top is excellent and, although not marked, is easy to follow.


Ascents 20 and 21. July 25, 1970
Mt. Belford, elevation 14,197
Mt. Oxford, elevation 14,153
with Carolyn Altfather
On Thursday evening we packed Carolyn's VW. On Friday, after work, I met her at Stearns-Roger at 5:30 PM, and we drove southwest on US 285 turning west on Clear Creek Road 17 miles north of Buena Vista. We drove 8 miles west to the small settlement of Vicksburg, elevation 9,650 feet, where we set up camp at 9 PM. Saturday morning we left camp at 6:15 AM and climbed up Missouri Gulch. The trail and weather were good, but the temperature was a cool 42 degrees. We hiked up to a plateau between Mt. Belford's south ridge and Missouri Mountain, cut east to the top of the ridge, then climbed northeast to the summit of Belford, arriving at 10:15 AM. I had gone ahead of Carolyn, who was 30 minutes behind me. At 10:30 I left the summit and headed south along the saddle running east to Oxford. It has an elevation drop of 600 feet. At the lowest point of the saddle I stopped to wait for Carolyn to catch up. We ate a snack of pudding. (What happened to the tuna fish sandwich and the V8 juice?). After resting we climbed up to the summit of Mt. Oxford, arriving at 12:30 PM. We saw a buck run from the summit as we approached. After signing the register, we left the summit, descending directly into Belford Gulch, glissading down a snow field on the way. We reached Belford Gulch trail which is little-used, steep, and is very scenic.
At the bottom of the trail we came to Clear Creek and decided to bushwhack west to the bridge at our camp 1 1/2 miles away. It began to rain, and the terrain was rough, so we forded the swollen creek. It was 2 1/2 to 3 feet deep. The rain was miserable.


Ascent 22. July 26, 1970
Huron Peak, elevation 14,005
with Carolyn Altfather
Sunday morning, the day after we had scaled Belford and Oxford, Carolyn and I drove west from Vicksburg to Winfield, then south on a very rough Jeep road about three miles. We parked the VW off the road at an elevation of 10,300 feet at the base of a treeless slope that faces west.
We began the hike at 9:50 AM. The meadow above tree line was lush with grass, meandering streams, and an abundance of wild flowers. Near the summit we encountered a sleet storm with a lot of static electricity. I raised my hand over my head and heard a buzzing sound. The hair on my arms stood up, so we stayed behind a large rock until the storm abated somewhat before continuing to the summit.
The static electricity on top was frightening, the only time I have encountered such a condition. For the summit photo, Carolyn and I stayed low among the rocks for fear of being struck by a lightening bolt. In the summit photo, some of the hair on my head was standing up.
We reached the top at 12:30 PM, left shortly after that and arrived at the car at 2:30 PM. As we drove back toward Winfield, we hit a large rock in the road which broke the seal on a front tire, flattening it. We changed the tire, and continued on.


Ascent 23. August 1, 1970
Humboldt Peak, elevation 14,064
with Carolyn Altfather
We departed Denver in Carolyn's VW at 5:10 PM, arriving at the South Colony Creek Jeep trail about 10 PM. We ate dinner by the headlights of the VW and, at 10:30 PM, started packing our gear up the road toward the South Colony Lakes, eight miles up the trail. At 12:30 AM we finally stopped to camp, still three miles from the South Colony Lakes.
At 8:30 AM the next morning we ate breakfast, broke camp, packed up, and headed on up to the lakes, arriving at the upper lake about 1 PM. After setting up camp at 12,000 feet, we departed for the summit at 2 PM on an easy two-hour ascent, arriving at 4 PM with an approaching storm. We signed the register and departed the summit quickly to beat the changing weather. At 5:30 PM we arrived back in camp, ate dinner, built a small wood fire, and fell asleep, exhausted.
At 8 AM, we woke up to the sound of yodeling by two parties of two climbers each, on a technical climb of Crestone Needle. One party was going up Whitney Gulch, and the other was ascending via Ellingwood Ridge. We decided to scout a route up the needle and climbed the ridge west of the lakes, but it was a difficult route, and we returned to camp to pack out.


Ascent 24. August 15, 1970
Handies Peak, elevation 14,048
with Carolyn Altfather
Once again, we departed Denver in Carolyn's VW at 5 PM on Friday evening. We drove as far as Monarch Pass where the VW quit running on the west side of the pass at 10 PM. It was raining, and we were able to get a ride with three girls to Gunnison in a Jeep without doors.
In Gunnison, we hired a gas station to tow the VW to Gunnison. The next morning the garage replaced the ignition coil on the VW, and we were on our way to Lake City. We drove west from Lake City along a shelf road, to the junction of the Grizzly and Silver Gulches where we arrived at 1 PM. We set up camp in an old barn by the road at Grizzly Gulch and departed for the peak at 1:45 PM.
Clouds were low, and we only glimpsed the peak a few times on the way up. Above 13,000 feet, two inches of snow covered the ground. We ascended diagonally up the north face, arriving on the cold summit at 5:15 PM. The weather showed no sign of improving, so we signed the register and left the summit to the west, over the steep shoulder which looks menacing but has a good switch-back trail going down it.
We arrived at the edge of the Lake Fork of the Gunnison River behind the barn we camped in. On the way up we had crossed the stream on planks, but when we returned, they were covered by rushing water, so we had to wade across. On Sunday, we scouted Red Cloud and Sunshine, but the rain wouldn't let up, so we returned to Denver. My Nikon camera got wet in the rain, and I had to take it to Rocky Mountain Camera Repair on Broadway in Denver to have it cleaned and dried. Later, the optical coating on the f1.4 50mm lens crackled, probably because it had gotten wet inside, and I had to have the coatings polished off.


Ascent 25. August 22, 1970
Mt. of the Holy Cross, elevation 14,005
with Carolyn Altfather
As had become habit, we left Denver on Friday after work in Carolyn's VW. We drove to Half Moon Campground, west of Minturn on highway 24, at the head of the trail up Holy Cross.
The weather was excellent the next morning as we began the ascent at 8:30 AM. The area west of Half Moon Pass had beautiful scenery, and the trail up the mountain was very good.
We departed the summit at 1:45 PM and descended rapidly. We reached the car at 5:30, after the 9 hour round trip climb, an elevation gain of 4,400 feet, and a distance of 7 miles each way. We drove to Leadville for the night in preparation for our attempt of Mt. Massive the following day.


Ascent 26. August 23, 1970
Mt. Massive, elevation 14,421
with Carolyn Altfather
On Sunday morning we left Leadville at 7 AM, arriving at the junction of the Main Range Trail and Half Moon Creek at 7:25 AM where we parked the car and departed for the summit. We followed the Main Range Trail to the Mt. Massive Trail, 3 miles north of our starting point. We traveled west to the summit, following the cairns to the base of the summit where we made a direct ascent up the finely ground scree slope, arriving on the summit at noon.
After a snack and signing the register, we departed the summit at 12:30 PM, descending by the same route we had come up. The weather was good, with intermittent snow flurries above 13,500. We arrived at the car at 4:30, where Carolyn cooked dinner before we drove back to Denver.


Ascent 27. August 29, 1970
Mt. Harvard, elevation 14,420
with Carolyn Altfather
Carolyn picked me up at work in her father's International Scout on Friday after work at 5 PM. We drove southwest on US 285, maintaining CB communications with the Colonel, Carolyn's father, to Sky Village Inn. Beyond that, the signal was too weak. We drove up North Cottonwood Creek to the end of the road, ate dinner, and camped. The next morning we started up the Horn Fork Trail at 7:30 AM. By some accident, I left my camera at the car, not realizing it until we were two miles up the trail. I told Carolyn to continue up the trail, and I would return to the car to get my camera, and then catch up with her. She insisted on taking my pack so I could travel faster. I jogged back to the car, got my camera, and caught up with Carolyn at Bear Lake at noon.
We estimated how far we were from the summit by looking at the marker we could see on the top. However, it was much taller than we thought, causing us to misjudge the time required to get to the top. We finally got on the summit at 3 PM. A fast-moving storm came up, bringing with it rain and sleet. We saw lightening striking Mt. Columbia. We descended down a trough near the middle of the ridge that goes to the summit. We got back to the car at 9 PM.
We decided that the easiest route up Harvard is from the cabin at Pine Creek at the base of the mountain. We set up camp, ate dinner, and slept well. We decided to climb Mt. Columbia the next day, Sunday.


Ascent 28. August 30, 1970
Mt. Columbia, elevation 14,073
with Carolyn Altfather
The morning following our ascent of Mt. Harvard, we set out at 8:30 AM, heading up Horn Fork Trail to climb Mt. Columbia. We arrived at tree line at 11 AM. We left the trail to skirt the south side of large rock outcroppings at the base of the peak. At 11:10 AM we decided to ascend a grassy slope to the south of a scree slope that covers the west face. The climb was not too difficult, and we reached the summit at 1:15 PM. We drank V8 (OK!) and ate pudding.
A storm was approaching from the west so we walked south along the summit ridge, and descended the way we had come up, reaching at camp at 5 PM. We drove out of the area on a very rocky jeep road. Unknown to us, a rock put a hole in the lower part of the radiator, and the water slowly leaked out. It was dark when we noticed the Scout was running hot, so we stopped at a gas station in a small town. We filled it up with water and continued back to Denver, stopping at gas stations along the way to fill the radiator. However, the Scout had overheated too often and Carolyn's father traded it in on a new Scout a couple of months later.


Ascent 29. May 31, 1971
Pikes Peak, elevation 14,110
with Carolyn Altfather
We departed the cog railway depot in Manitou Springs where we had parked the car at 3:30 AM. We hiked up the road to the junction of Barr Trail built by Fred Barr from 1921 to 1924. We passed the Barr Campground about 7 AM. At 7:45 AM we ate a snack at the junction of the Bottomless Pit Trail and then started up the trail at 8:00. At 8:45 AM I lay down on the trail to nap. Carolyn rested on a rock. At 9 AM we continued on. We ran into snow on the trail before we reached tree line, so we donned crampons to help us keep from slipping in the snow.
Near the top, the trail runs to the north shoulder where snow had been blown away, however, the face had snow on it, and we should have headed directly up the ridge on the south side of the face which was free of snow. Instead, we went up the middle of the face, encountering deep snow and ice on the steep incline. The last 40 yards were very steep and I lost my footing, sliding 25 feet down. Luckily, we reached the summit without an accident. We couldn't have made the summit without crampons, but they continually became packed with ice and had to be cleared, otherwise, we would lose our footing.
Finally, at 2 PM, we arrived on the summit. We rested at the summit house which was open, but had no visitors. The cog railway was closed due to deep snow, but the road had been opened recently. Only a few other climbers and the summit house staff were present on top.
We left the summit at 3 PM and descended down the cog road which was only 9 miles to Manitou Springs as opposed to the Barr Trail which was 12 miles. We finally got to the car at 8 PM and drove back to Denver.


Ascent 30. August 1971
Mt. Elbert, elevation 14,431
with Carolyn Altfather and a neighbor of mine, Mike Wilfley
Carolyn and I invited Mike Wilfley, my neighbor on Roslyn Street in Denver, to join us on a trip up Mt. Elbert. We drove to Twin Lakes, south of Leadville in his Ford Mustang where we started on the climb, taking the Mt. Elbert Trail northwest up the mountain. The trail was excellent, much better than the route Al Schmidt and I had taken from Half Moon Campground a few years before.
Near the summit we saw Ptarmigan, birds about the size of a chicken, losing their brown summer plumage, changing to white. They had a mottled, brown and white look.
The log doesn't provide much information except that the climb from this side was relatively easy on a well marked trail in good weather. On the way back down, Mike decided to jog ahead of Carolyn and me and when we reached his car, he was asleep on the back seat.


Ascent 31. June 2, 1972
Grays Peak, elevation 14,270
with Carol Mikesh
Carol and I decided to do a relatively easy fourteener, so we chose Grays Peak. We drove to the Steven's mine on a road that left US 40 at Bakerville. I-70 had finally been completed beyond Bakerville. The fireplace and chimney were all that was left from the restaurant that was once there. We parked the car at the mine and began hiking at 9 AM. The day was cloudy as we began our ascent. Fortunately, it didn't rain.
Carol wasn't used to the thin air at high elevation and later said she followed me up the trail, concentrating on the heels of my boots. Pete Moser rightly admonished me for taking her up a fourteener without letting her get used to climbing on lesser peaks. I should have done that, but by this time I was getting burned out on fourteeners. In later years, Carol and I began hiking in the front range parks, and she could out walk me every time.
We arrived on top of Grays at 1 PM. After eating lunch, Carol felt much better. We descended to the low point of the saddle between Grays and Torreys, and then went on down to the car.


Ascents 32 and 33. September 3, 1977
Sunshine Peak, elevation 14,013
Redcloud Peak, elevation 14,047
with Pete Barth
On Friday, September 2, at 1 PM, I departed Arapahoe County Airport (now Centennial Airport) in a Cessna 172, flying to San Luis Airport for fuel, then to a dirt strip at Del Norte, northwest of Alamosa, arriving there at 2:30 PM.
Pete Barth picked me up at the airport at 3 PM and dropped me off with my climbing gear at a house he and some friends rented. Pete had to go back to work, but was back at the house at 5:30 PM. We drove to the grocery for hamburger and other supplies, packed up, and headed out of town at 7 PM.
We arrived at the campground on the west side of Slumgullion Pass about 9 PM. We were the only campers there, and Pete guessed it may have been because there was no sign on the main road to identify it. Pete was familiar with it because he lived in the area and worked for the Forest Service.
We started a wood fire, and Pete prepared a great meal of hamburger and beans. They tasted especially good outdoors at this 11,000 foot camp. We got to bed about midnight, sleeping under the stars. It was a chilly night until early morning when warm air moved into the area. I recall waking up several times that night gasping for air. This probably occurred because I wasn't used to such a high altitude, and my breathing wasn't quite deep enough for sleeping at 11,000 feet.
We left camp at 6 AM and arrived at Silver Creek at 7:45 AM on Saturday. We were on the trail at 8 AM. It was a beautiful morning, unlike my attempt a few years earlier with Carolyn Altfather, when it was raining. We arrived on the summit of Redcloud at 1 PM after ascending the ridge that goes directly to the summit from the creek that meets Silver Creek. The trail that we had planned to take, ascends through the woods to the saddle between the two peaks, but we missed it. On the way down, when we found it and decided that our route up the ridge was better than the trail.
We ate a snack on Redcloud, then again on Sunshine after crossing the saddle between them. We saw several other climbers on the mountains. Pete and I descended via the steep trail at the bottom of the saddle which we thought would be the best route down.
By the time we reached Silver Creek, it was very cloudy. The last hour of our descent was in a pouring rain with thunder. I was able to keep my Nikon dry this time. We arrived at the car about 5 PM. I was soaked since I hadn't taken a water-proof jacket. We drove to Creede where we ate chili in a cafe, then arrived in Del Norte at 9 PM. I camped in my sleeping bag on Pete's living room floor.
We got up about 7 AM on Sunday, and Pete drove me to the airport. I took Pete on a flight over Del Norte and the Wheeler Geological Area. My flight back to Denver was uneventful with good weather all the way.