Mount Elbert, Colorado's Highest Peak (#'s 37 & 38)

Our plans kept changing.⸻Originally we were to drive to the San Juan Mountains of Colorado and hike Red Cloud and Sunshine Peaks. It would be the first fourteener for both Jenna and Jordan.

But as the day approached, the forecast for that area became more and more stormy. I quickly came up with a Plan B, just in case. We would drive to Leadville instead, camp nearby, and hike Mount Elbert, the highest peak in Colorado.

As we left for our excursion and watched the forecast, we decided Plan B was the wiser option.

Onward to Leadville!

But as we approached the trailhead the day before, with the intention of finding a camp, I pulled out Google Maps to find the road . . . . . and learned it was closed! And there was no alternate!

Now we scrambled to find a Plan C.

I had briefly studied another trailhead on the south side of Mount Elbert. It was steeper and a bit longer. It was next to the highway to Aspen.⸻This is what we chose.

The drive was 28 miles outside of Leadville and luckily for us there was a campground nearby. Jenna pitched a tent, Jordan set up a hammock, and I inflated a mattress inside the Bronco. After a hearty dinner of chili and cheese, we retired to bed expecting an early start.

Dinner the evening before our hike.

We set foot on the Black Cloud Trail at 5 am. From the beginning it was brutal. With either flashlights in hand or headlamps, we pushed along a dark, steep trail.

Below us to the left we could hear the rushing of a creek, and about half an hour into the hike we crossed the creek on a sketchy bridge made by stretching logs across the water.

After one hour we took a short break with the first morning twilight. We still couldn't see much except the dark face of the mountain.

Half an hour later the beautiful landscape now appeared out of the darkness. In front of us lofty mountains rose to the sky. Verdant coniferous trees now transformed into silhouetted stick figures on the horizon. We spotted a near-full waxing moon, now disappearing below their tops.

Moon over the treetops. 

Breakfast with a view. 

The humungous slopes up which we still had to ascend loomed behind us. My legs already felt the burn from our constant climb. There would be no relenting.

As we hiked we were on the watch for any big game. We knew there would be a possibility of moose, deer, elk, bears, bighorned sheep and possibly mountain goats.

We came across old scraps of metal from the days of mining. It seems like every slope and gulch in Colorado was mined at one time. Near this same area we came across yellowish-orange piles of tailings.

Near one of these tailings I looked down in a gulley and saw a mule deer feeding on grass. He looked up and I saw it was a little two-point.

Small buck feeding in a gulley. 

Tailings from an old mine. 

As we painstakingly continued our trudge upward, we left the lodgepole pines, spruce and fir below us and now traveled above treeline.

The trail ascended the steep mountain using a series of switchbacks.⸻twenty-two of them if I counted correctly. Some of the sections consisted of plain dirt while others included rock steps placed there by trail builders. From time to time a pika would let out a chirp and scamper to another rock.

Although the switchbacks were grueling on my legs, I was anxious to get them over with and arrive at last on the upper ridge. From the trailhead to the upper ridge we climbed 3,731 feet in only 3.2 miles. That averages out to 1,165 feet a mile.

I should mention here that Jenna and Jordan were great sports. They easily could have out-done their old man, but they were always gracious and let me take the lead.

As we climbed higher, the views to the south became more magnificent. Across the valley rose La Plata and Rinker Peaks in all their grandeur. From our view we could see the ridges, crags and crevices of those magnificent mountains. Knowing that La Plata Peak was the fifth highest in the state, I suddenly longed to climb it.

La Plata (right) and Rinker Peaks. 

Arriving at the ridge was a welcome relief to our thighs and calves. Now before us we could see the summit of Mount Elbert, still two miles away and another thousand feet of elevation climb.

We did, however, take the opportunity to detour a fifth of a mile and climb an extra 150 feet to say we summited Mount Cosgriff. From our angle it didn't look much like a peak, but from down below I suppose it does. This little summit was named after Peter Cosgriff, a Leadville attorney that was influential in the community.

On the summit there was a pile of rocks and a plaque honoring Ned Cosgriff, the son of Peter. Ned died seven years ago and spent a lot of time traveling the world and hiking mountains. This was a good spot for us to take a break and eat a sandwich.

Mount Cosgriff summit. 

Even though we were now on the ridge, and the slope was not quite as drastic, it was still no walk in the park. Our legs were worn out.

From Cosgriff the ridge slowly climbed toward South Elbert, a sub-peak that stood just over 14,100 feet. At times there was a good trail and at times we were walking atop shale rock.

After South Elbert the trail descended back to 13,900, all of which we had to regain, and them some.

This section of the ridge gave the appearance of being steep on both sides and narrow on top, but once we got there it didn't seem that bad. The wind picked up with extreme gusts.

From the top of the switchbacks, South Elbert in foreground and Mount Elbert behind.

Past South Elbert looking forward to Mount Elbert.

Final ridge to Mount Elbert.

Before we knew it we were on the top of Mount Elbert with a couple dozen other people, most of them young folk.

The view from the top was excellent, both on the Leadville and Mount Massive sides. I overheard a guy speaking who pointed out Snowmass Mountain and Capitol Peak in the distance.

We spent at least half an hour at the summit. Some people had a cardboard sign that read “Mount Elbert 14,440 feet” that they held while taking their picture. Most of the people there were just hanging out, just enjoying the scenery and the moment. In addition to being the highest peak in Colorado, Mount Elbert is the second highest peak in the contiguous forty-eight states, behind only to Mount Whitney in California.

From the summit of Mount Elbert, looking north toward Mount Massive, Colorado's second highest peak.

Jenna enjoys the view from the summit.

Looking northeast toward the city of Leadville.

View from Mt. Elbert, looking southeast toward Twin Lakes and Mount Cosgriff.

La Plata Peak, the fifth highest summit in Colorado.

Eating on the summit of Mount Elbert.

View west. Casco Peak and French Mountain across South Halfmoon Basin. Snowmass Mountain and Capitol Peak in distance.

We knew we had to get down to avoid any afternoon rain shower. The hike down was much more pleasant and quicker.

By the time we got to the top of the switchbacks we could see a dark rainstorm moving our way. It had us worried, but at least we weren't hearing thunder.

We hit the switchbacks hard, moving as quickly as possible. At the bottom of the switchbacks⸻1,300 feet down⸻was the treeline, a place of better shelter from rain and lightening. That was our goal.

I believe this is quartzite. 

Jordan running ahead.

Rainstorm headed our way.

We were about halfway down when the rain began to hit. I put on a poncho and Jenna her raincoat. Jordan didn't have either, so he booked it to the trees to find shelter.

As for me and my poncho, it was a pain in the you-know-what⸻getting twisted and flapping in the wind, barely protecting me from the elements. I decided then and there that I would buy a raincoat.

By the time we made it to the bottom of the switchbacks we found Jordan huddled beneath a tree. The rain began to slow, then stopped altogether.

Soon we were back in our beautiful basin with lodgepole pines and Douglas-fir all around; and all the colors of the wet landscape were saturated. La Plata and Rinker Peaks once again reigned majestically from across the canyon. ♠

Mount Cosgriff

Distance to peak: 3.4 miles

Net elevation gain: 3,748 feet

Final elevation: 13,584 feet

Mount Elbert

Distance from Cosgriff: 2.3 miles

Distance from trailhead: 5.7 miles

Net elevation gain from trailhead: 4,719 feet

Total elevation gain: 5,218 feet

Total distance: 10.9 miles

Total time: 10 hours, 49 minutes

Final elevation: 14,440 feet

Cottonwood Mountain (Peak #36)

Cottonwood Mountain as seen from I-15.

Cottonwood Mountain is not a very prominent mountain. There are certain stretches on I-15 where you can catch a glimpse if you know what you're looking for. But even then, it is easy to get confused.

So I thought I would hike it. If nothing else, to straighten it out geographically inside my mind.

I left my house at a quarter after six in the morning and drove past Paragonah and along Little Creek toward Upper Bear Valley. I parked next to a wooden sign just off the graveled road.

The first quarter mile was probably the steepest of the entire hike, but it didn't last long. Immediately after that I descended as much as I had gained. This first part of the hike I had done one other time while out deer hunting.

The trail brought me through a grove of quaken aspen. There were a handful of inscriptions on the trees, but nothing too old.

Not far past here the trail split and I took the right-hand fork. At first I lost the trail because it narrowed, then petered out. After some trial and error I found it again and didn't lose it.

For the next two miles the trail meandered along Willow Creek, a stream bed that was now dry. Despite it being mid-summer, I walked cool in the shade of the canyon. Around me grew lots of oak brush and as I got further along it mingled with lofty pines.

The route I took was admittedly a circumnavigation of the mountain. I planned to wrap around its eastern and northern flanks before walking southward to reach the peak.

Looking at Cottonwood Mountain from the east side. 

A horned lizard or horny toad.

Three miles into my hike I met up with the cattle that I knew had to be around here somewhere judging from the clues they left. At the bottom of a mountain slope spring water had been captured inside a pipe, drizzling the liquid into an aluminum basin where the cattle could drink. The trail passed right through here and I gingerly tiptoed past the cattle, trying not to step on any fresh cow pies.

Here the trail left the canyon and began to wrap around the mountain. Looking at this part on Google Maps I thought it would be a dirt road, but it wasn't. Only a trail. Based on the width of the the cut through the trees, I'll bet it was a road at one time.

From here the trail wraps around the north side of Cottonwood Mountain.

Cattle on the trail.

As the trail began to truly climb in elevation I was pleased to see Peak #2 in the near distance. This was the second peak I climbed during my journey of climbing peaks after the age of fifty. It has no name that I know of and certainly there was no trail.

I made it to the northern end of Cottonwood Mountain. From here I had to leave the trail and bushwhack the final mile to the peak. It wasn't too bad, but occasionally I had to push through sapling aspen or brush to get through. The slope definitely got steeper, but the views got better.

Peak #2 as seen from the northern flank of Cottonwood Mountain.

Cottonwood Mountain has two peaks, the northern one being higher. I hoped to ascend both.

After three hours of hiking I arrived at the northern peak, the higher of the two. There was no view to speak of, most of it being covered with oak brush. Atop a large boulder was a glass jar with a notebook inside. This was the peak register. Judging from that, most years had about two groups summit the mountain and some years had none. Without a doubt, not many people made it up here.

At the summit.

Little Creek Peak as seen from near the summit.

Since there was no view at the top I certainly wanted to hike to the southern peak. This wasn't too difficult. It required a 267-foot drop over a bushy slope. The hardest part was climbing up the north slope of the southern peak, which was forested in heavy timber.

Near the top was a clearing with views back toward the northern peak. I also found several old wooden posts laid on top of each other in a square. It was definitely man-made, but not complex enough to be a structure. Perhaps it was a holding pen at one time.

From here it was another fifth of a mile to the top of the southern peak. Once again, the views weren't great. I could see nothing on the north side. An opening on the other side allowed me to see Iron Peak to the south. Looking east I could see both Little Creek Peak and Sandy Peak. I could also see part of the freeway.

Sandy Peak (left) and Little Creek Peak as seen from the southern peak.

Panoramic view from the southern peak.

I returned the way I came, all the way back to the northern peak. Here I found a narrow trail that led off the east side of the mountain that would potentially shave off a couple miles of hiking. That it did. I followed it downhill until it met up with the trail near Willow Creek. ♠

An old Utah juniper tree with a wide trunk.

Cottonwood Mountain

Distance to Peak: 4.8 miles

Net elevation gain:1,351 feet

Final elevation: 9,124 feet

Total elevation gain: 2,933 feet

Total roundtrip distance: 9.2 miles

Total time: 7 hours 6 minutes

Two Peaks on Pine Valley Mountain (#'s 34 & 35)

This peak was a long time coming. At least 25 years. Back then, before the days of smart phones and GPS, I made the long trek toward the Summit Trail of Pine Valley Mountain, but when I approached the top, the trail disintegrated. I wandered as much as I dared without getting lost, but the Summit Trail was nowhere to be found. Since then I have learned from my own experience that trails on Pine Valley Mountain, especially as you get closer to the top, are notoriously bad.

So today, with iPhone in-hand, I made another attempt to summit Signal Peak.

I arrived the night before at the Oak Grove campground where I spent the night in my vehicle. By that time the sun was behind the mountain and all was peaceful. Except for one group of campers, I was far removed from anyone else.

My bedroom for the night.

By 7 am I was on the trail and grateful for the splotchy clouds that kept the sun out of view for over an hour.

The Oak Grove Trail to the top of Pine Valley Mountain is steep. In less than three miles it gains over 3,000 feet. Tedious switchbacks lead up a mountain face that from a distance seems impossible. The trail steps over an endless amount of boulders and flogs through leaves of gambol oak.

Morning clouds over Pine Valley Mountain.

As the path ascends there are greater views to the east of Zion National Park, Quail Creek Reservoir and Sand Hollow Reservoir. To the west there is a sheer cliff face that the trail delicately works around.

The trail wasn't flooding in flowers, but a variety occasionally speckled the way. Of those I could identify were the bridge's penstemon, silvery lupine, yellow balsamroot and Indian paintbrush.

The higher I climbed, the more my thighs and calves felt unprepared for the job. This was mid-June and I was still out of shape. I kept a cold electrolyte drink in my pack that I guzzled from time to time.

Getting higher.

When I was three-quarters of the way up I came around a bend and into the path of a Great Basin rattlesnake. He immediately saw me and slithered beneath the overhang of a log. There he slowly made an irregular coil with his long body and I watched his rattles slide up and over his scales and out of sight.

For the next couple minutes I watched him beneath the log. He didn't rattle his tail or flick his tongue. He just watched me as I took pictures. Soon I continued on my way.

Great Basin rattlesnake.

It took me 2 hours and 39 minutes to reach the top ridge where the serious ascent ended and gave way to a more benign hike. Twenty-five years ago this was where I lost the trail. Things haven't changed much.

Immediately I noticed that the trail wasn't nearly as well defined. I followed a faint path into a timbered forest. In some places I had to search out fallen trees that had been sliced through with a chainsaw to identify the trail.

But after only five or ten minutes, I once again lost the path. By the time I pulled out my phone to find my location I realized I was well off the trail. For the next twenty minutes I made circles in the forest and zigzagged around mounds and boulders. Finally I found the trail once again, but acknowledged that without a smart phone, I wouldn't have been able to find it.

Peak #35 as seen from the trail.

Near the top.

From near the top looking down.

For the next mile and a half I followed over timbered hills and two grassy meadows. In the first meadow I spotted a doe on the far side that took off when she saw me. There was also an isolated patch of snow on the north side of a stand of pines.

The second meadow had a stream issuing from it. This area is called “Further Water.” It was longer than the first meadow and on the far side I could see the forested knoll of Signal Peak. Both of these meadows were about 9,820 feet in elevation.

First grassy meadow.  Notice patch of snow at center-left, at the foot of the pines.

Back into the trees.

Second grassy meadow, known as Further Water.

Signal Peak as seen from Further Water.

Once again the trail entered the forest and after a fifth of a mile I decided I had arrived at the point where I needed to divert and angle toward the peak. I should inject that Signal Peak, although it is the highest point in Washington County, does not have a viewpoint. It is surrounded by trees. If it were not a county or mountain highpoint, no one would go there, including me.

There was no sign to point the way, nor path to follow. My strategy was simply to keep walking uphill until I couldn't. The mountain here was timbered, sprinkled with fallen trees, but not a lot of other growth. Aside from already being tired, it was a pretty easy walk.

The final pitch to Signal Peak is off-trail.

Half a mile later, I arrived at a quasi flat area that seemed to be the summit. No one place stood out, nor was there a pile of rocks to mark the spot. I searched several possible summits within the tight area and found nothing to determine without doubt I was at the top. I didn't even find a geological survey marker. I would have thought that the highest point in Washington County would be better marked.

The closest thing I found to a marker was a laminated plaque about ten inches high with the name of Kenneth Roger Carlson, who died in 2024. I later looked up his obituary and learned that he lived in Santa Clara, but died while riding his bike in Pine Valley (supposedly the town). I assume that these mountains were a special place to him.

As I alluded earlier, there were no views here, but from one location I could see down toward St. George through the trees. I'm sure one could find a better view if he were to explore a bit. As for me, I didn't have the time. By now the charge on my phone was running low and the juice from my battery pack had been exhausted. I wanted to at least be on a well-established trail by the time it ran out.

Somewhere around here is Signal Peak.

Back down the summit hill I walked until I met the trail. I retraced my steps, stopping only once to eat part of my Subway sandwich.

But remember, this blog post is about two peaks on Pine Valley Mountain. Knowing that Signal Peak didn't have much of a view, I previously decided I would ascend another peak that did. This peak was over two miles away and didn't have a name, at least as far as I knew. Since it would be the 35th peak I would have climbed since turning fifty, I dubbed it “Peak #35.”

Peak #35 begins near the point where the trail begins to descend the mountain. Like Signal Peak, I would have to divert from the trail.

By the time I was ready to trudge toward the summit the battery on my phone was down below 20%. I was a little nervous. Once again, no path. The way felt steeper than Signal Peak and littered with several fallen trees from a fire.

The climb to Peak #35.

It took me half an hour to reach the summit of Peak #35. The view indeed was much better. I could see well to the east toward Zion National Park, Black Ridge, Toquerville, Laverkin, Hurricane, Sand Hollow and Quail Creek reservoirs. I believe I spotted Mount Trumbull far to the southeast, but it was hard to make out because the sky was so hazy.

Below I could see the Oak Grove Campground and the six-mile road leading there. What a rugged terrain! It was no wonder that I had seen no one the entire hike. Although I could see civilization, there was a lot of jagged country that separated us.

Looking east from Peak #35.

Looking southeast toward Sand Hollow Reservoir and Quail Creek Reservoir. 

Looking toward Black Ridge and Zion National Park.

The trek down went by more quickly, but was still filled with a lot of tedium. I stepped over an endless amount of boulders and endured switchbacks ad infinitum. I encountered no rattlesnakes, but felt the afternoon sun now bearing over my the back of my neck.

By the time I arrived at the trailhead it was 4:30 pm and I was happy to be back. Nobody was left in the campground. It was just me, the road, a thermos full of ice-cold water and the air conditioner. ♠

Signal Peak

Distance from car: 4.8 miles

Net elevation gain: 3,830 feet

Final elevation: 10,383 feet

Peak #35

Distance from Signal Peak: 2.3 miles

New elevation gain: 571 feet

Final elevation: 10,142 feet

Total distance for the hike: roughly 10.5 miles

Total elevation gain: 4,836 feet

Total time: 9 hours 7 minutes