Date Climbed: August 12-13, 2015
Climbing Partners: none
Elevation: 14,015
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Daniel Weiss
Having spent all day letting my heels recover from the blisters I had recently acquired from my ruined boots, I thought my best option would be to rent a cabin, wait out the coming storm, and clean my sores. It wasn't until 7 or 8 PM that I finally found a place cheap enough for my budget. Recommended by a local shop owner, I walked in to the "front office," sure that there would be no rooms available. As I walked in, I was greeted by two men, both talking about the Bible and drinking some whiskey with a roaring fire next to them. The scene is difficult to picture unless you saw it, but the "front office" was really just a small room connected to a cabin where the owners stayed when the hotel was open in the summer season. The men invited me in and asked if I wanted some cookies and whiskey (it was a very awkward but funny way to check into a hotel).
The owner was very kind and said that he had been expecting me, after talking with the shop owner who had recommended me, who happened to be his wife. Apparently, my predicament was not uncommon. Many people would have the same problems when coming through on their way to complete the Colorado Trail, and would often stop by to drop off trash and restock on food. He generously gave me a discount (something like 50% off) and gave me an entire cabin to myself. He had done the 14ers in the area and was impressed that I had traveled so far alone and had camped up in the basins alone as well. In his words, "that's real adventuring."
As I moved my stuff into my cabin, I looked up at the night sky. With a flash and a loud rumble, I could see where the storm was hitting furiously against Wetterhorn. I was glad I would not have to stay a night up at altitude while everything got soaked and having to deal with a thunderstorm alone at night. I got into my cabin just as the rain began to pour down. The shower was almost as interesting as the check-in; having no soap provided, I had to use the hand soap dispenser next to the sink. Although, this was much better than having no shower at all for the whole week as I had planned. Having cleaned my heel properly, I finally got to bed with the sound of rain roaring down and thunder in the distance, and was out before I knew it.
I was up early the next morning, running around town to get some supplies to protect my heels as well as a good lunch before I backpacked into Matterhorn Basin. Around noon, I arrived at my four wheeler, thankfully right where I had left it the day before. Although a bit wet, it worked just fine and after a quick but bumpy ride over to the Wetterhorn trailhead, I was on my way up to my campsite. I had hoped to camp right at the base of Wetterhorn and Matterhorn, but the forecast told me that there was a good chance of thunderstorms tonight, so I would have to stay around timberline. It took around an hour to get from the trailhead to the intended campsite. Unfortunately, there was another tent pitched there, and the only other suitable site that was close enough to water would be a good distance back down the trail. Approaching the tent cautiously, I called out, hoping that the hiker(s) would be ok with me setting up nearby. After hearing no response, I assumed that they were on their way back from a hike.
After a bit of deliberation, I figured I'd rather take my chances with having some upset campers and figured that even if they were angry at me, there would be safety in numbers. Although I enjoy backpacking alone, it's always nice to know there is someone nearby who can help if something goes wrong. With this in mind, I set up camp just far enough away that the campers would not see me. After a short nap, I heard the campers return. After a quick chat with them, I found that they intended to head back down, so I would be camping alone that night. As pretty as this location was, I would enjoy the solitude. After a few hours, I are bored and decided to have some dinner and check out the basin a little more. I had a clear view of Matterhorn from my tent, but could not yet see Wetterhorn, which was up and to the left around another mountain from the front door of my tent. After a quick stroll further up the basin, I returned and warmed up some Ramen.
It was almost dark by this time and I could see the clouds rolling in. I quickly cleaned my cookware and ran to the stream to fill up the bottles. Just as I began to filter the first liter, I heard a rumble off in the distance. My heart began to beat faster. I couldn't stop now, I needed this water if I was going to have enough for tonight and tomorrow. After a minute or two, I heard another rumble, this time much closer. I could tell now where the storm was rolling in from, and knew it could be on me in minutes. I quickly filtered my second liter and ran back to my tent, hoping tonight would not be like the last. As I huddled in my tent and stripped down for sleep, I could hear the rain begin to fall. It was not much, but I was anticipating a full blown storm again. Somehow, the storm I was anticipating, though, never materialized, and I slept fairly well that night.
The one complaint I had was my water. Every time I took a sip, I got the irony taste of what I thought was blood. Assuming I had just cut my lip, I continued to drink, and waited for my alarm to signal my ascent.
4:30 AM came quickly and I had all my gear on in less that 15 minutes. It was pitch black outside, and I could not see any stars. I assumed this meant that there were thick clouds and so took a 30 minute nap to see if the weather would change. By 5:30, I could finally see stars and looked up the basin to find that some climbers were already well ahead of me. I jumped out of my tent, brushed my teeth, and set off after them. In all honesty, the biggest reason I had stayed in my tent was because of my fear of mountain lions. If I have a partner, I don't worry too much as they almost never attack people in groups. But alone in the dark, and being the first one up the trail that day did not sound like too much fun, and I didn't like the risks. Especially since this was a Wednesday, which is one of the least crowded days on 14ers. But having seen other headlamps, I was encouraged and set off. The other hikers were over an hour ahead of me at an average pace, and so I made it my goal to beat them to the top, just to avoid any chance of running into any thunderstorms.
As I began my steady hike up the trail, I still tasted the iron in my water. I looked at the bottle with my light shining through it and saw no indication of blood. I wiped my lips with my finger and found no cut. That meant that there was something in the water that my filter had failed to catch. I suddenly remembered that the rock I had filter next to was a clay colored rock and came to the conclusion that I must have filtered my water right next to an iron deposit. I knew nothing about minerals and assumed that it could be harmful, so I would only drink the water when it was absolutely necessary, hoping that this was normal to have a lingering taste even after filtering.
I made quick progress into the upper basin and got my first glimpse of Wetterhorn Peak in the early morning alpenglow. It looked very close, but it also looked very challenging. The only official class 3 climbing I had ever down was on Dead Dog, and that was in snow. The real worry for me, though, was the exposure. Out of all the 14ers, Wetterhorn's standard route has one of the highest exposures. Well, I was about to find out, and I pushed even harder, hoping to be a the sun to the ridge. I had saved every picture available of the path ahead on my phone, just so as not to get off trail and to avoid getting stuck on any class 5 rock which was lurking close by. I could now make out the individual climbers ahead of me, and they seemed to be having some trouble route finding.
With my phone in hand, I made quick progress through some of the trickier sections and was soon within earshot of the hikers. I came to the first crux of the climb and found the climbers around a corner about 100 feet above me. They shouted down that they were lost and asked if they were going the right way. Looking around I found a cairn off to their left and told them to make their way over to that. As I began to ascend , I soon found that I had gone off trail, and made a quick move over a large bolder over to where I had last seen the hikers. I was actually having fun, and I found that this class 3 stuff made the climb a lot more fun than walking! I quickly climbed my way up to the "decision point," where I could either take the ridge or traverse below it. I opted to take the more difficult, but safer route and traversed. After some scrambling I was in an unexpected level areas just a few hundred feet below the summit. I found the V-notch I was looking for and climbed through.
At last, here it was. The 200 foot "staircase." The reports were right, it was hand-over-foot, but the holds were sold. It was like climbing up a ladder made of rocks. Looking to my left, I saw the drop that the reports had mentioned, but I realized that I had had much worse exposure on Mount Evans and Missouri Mountain. Everything looked ok, and it would be an easy climb to the top! The only worries I had left were that the other hikers might be just out of site and accidentally kick a rock down on top of me. I waited a few minutes sitting in the notch, and waiting to make sure that they had reached the top. After I was sure there were no rocks coming down, I dropped the 10 feet or so to the stairs, landing slightly unbalanced, but safely. I quickly began to move up the face, making sure that every hold was solid. In less than 10 minutes, I made the last move and was standing on top of a rather large plateau. I smiled at the couple who were sitting there eating their breakfast and taking in the views of Matterhorn and Uncompahgre.
Congratulations were in order and we took the mandatory summit pictures. There was not a cloud in the sky, and I knew we would be able to take our time on the way down. The couple were a bit nervous about the first part of the descent, since we would be climbing down ledges rather than up, and I understood their concerns. Most accidents occur on the way down. But I took the rope out of my bag and brandished it before them. "If we get in a bad spot, no worries. I've got a harness and some rope." They smiled and we all relaxed a bit. After agreeing to get down the difficult part together, we started down. Thankfully, we never felt uncomfortable enough to justify the rope, and so made quick progress past the stairs, and back up through the V-notch.
We decided to take the ridge rather that traverse on the way down, as it would be slightly easier. Once past the decision spot, all we had to do was follow the trail down the ridge and down into the basin. On the way down, we passed a few climbers on their way up, wishing them each luck. I told them to turn earlier than they thought so that they would avoid the same mistake I had made.
Once past the groups on their way up, our group began to talk about some of the climbs we had done. Both had done numerous 14ers, although the woman had done a few snow climbs. I immediately began to convey my love for snow climbs and my intent to climb Aconcagua. Both were very interested, so I told them of what I had planned so far. Both did not have the time to join, but wished me luck on my expedition. AS we entered the upper basin, our conversations began to wind down and soon we were hiking in silence, each lost in our own world of thought. After almost no time at all, we reached my high camp and we went our separate ways.
It took an hour to pack up, and I set off down the trail, eager to reach my 4wheeler and get some food. By 11 AM I was back in town, trying to decide if I had time to reach make a high camp for Sunshine and Redcloud. By 2 PM, I had communicated with my family that I had made it and told them of my intended destination. I set out, four-wheeler loaded, and began the journey south. Just before 3 PM, I had my four-wheeler unloaded and began the long ride up to the trailheads for Sunshine, Redcloud, and Handies. This road was much rougher than the one leading to Engineer Pass. It was a long drive, crossing many avalanche paths that had torn the road apart and exposed many rocks. When I finally reached the trailhead for Sunshine and Redcloud, I decided it was too late. It would be dark before I had reached my intended campsite, and so decided to take my chances with an attempt on Handies.
I set off up the road, which became even worse. By the time I reached the half-mile turnoff for American Basin, the road was nothing but loose rock and a little dirt (which is a nightmare to drive on). I made slow progress, and could tell that I would not be able to outrun the storm clouds that were closing in. By this point, the road was well above timberline, and it was very exposed to the weather. I decided not to chance it and would figure out something back at the truck. I made a tricky U-turn and began down the road a bit too fast. Just as a Jeep came into view, I hit a large rock which threw my handle to the left, and right into another rock. I was thrown from my ATV and, which kept on going, right off the edge of the road. I yelled out in horror, hoping against hope that my $4000 ATV had not gone off a cliff. I got up and ran to the edge of the road, just in time to see it run headfirst into some willows, where it came to a stop. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now all I had to do was find a way to get it out.
The jeep driver got out of her vehicle and came running, asking if I was alright. Frustrated, but alright. Although I had almost broken my ankle when the ATV began to flip, it had been saved when I was thrown from the ATV. We ran down to try and pull it out, but the slope was too steep, and I could not drive it out. I went around the willows to see if I could drive it through to the bottom where there was an old road, but just below I could see a 20 foot cliff that would surely destroy my ATV and me if I went with it. The only option left was to winch it up, and even then I would need another ATV as the road was too narrow to allow a jeep to park sideways.
Thankfully, the two ladies who were in the jeep offered me a ride back to my truck and I gratefully accepted. This was not the first time I was in debt to some passers by. On our way down, we stopped every ATV we came by, asking if they had a winch. Since it was so late in the day, we had very few to choose from and none of them had one. After two hours of rough driving, we were finally back at my truck. I tried to offer the ladies some money, but they refused and wished me luck. I unloaded, and drove through north again.
This call would take too long to text, and since I had no service in Lake City, I would have to drive north until I could get service. It took me an hour just to get to a location where I finally had a signal. I immediately pulled off to the side of the road and called my parents, who were the only ones close enough that would have some kind of winch and an ATV.
The call was brief, but a decision was made. It would take too long to reach Lake City from their location. So I had to drive another 3 hours around the mountains all the way to Ouray where I would spend the night, and then continue on to Silverton and meet up with them. From there, we would take the ATV's over Cinnamon Pass and winch out my ATV. Tired and frustrated, it was already close to sunset and I had to drive another 3 hours before I could get food sleep. Thankfully, my parents said I could get a room if I could find a hotel rather than having to backpack into a place in the area so I could camp for the night. My plans were ruined. Instead of the seven 14ers I had planned on getting this trip, I would be lucky just to get three. It's obvious now that God was teaching me patience and humility. Especially since I had come into this journey "prepared for anything". I had enough gear to deal with snow, rock climbing, rain storms, below freezing temperatures, bad roads, and even a gun for protection from wildlife. But I did not prepare for losing my ATV. Even after all these precautions, I still had to learn to trust in the help of others. So I got back on the road and began the long trip to my favorite town in Colorado; Ouray.
