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

Upon a Royal Throne (Day 3)

It has been a long and crazy day. At last I am in my tent, although not completely dry.
 
The first half of our goal today was to hike King's Peak, the highest peak in Utah at 13,528 feet. I have been there once before, although we accessed it from Henry's Fork on the north side near the Wyoming border. That was nineteen years ago. I was obliged to go with my friend, Russ, and his father, who was a seasoned cowboy from Uri, Wyoming. We brought four horses in, which included one for each of us. The fourth was a pack horse and we loaded him up with panniers, three sleeping bags, a tent, a fold-up chair, and an ax. We covered all this with a tarp and cinched it tight with rope. We camped the night at Dollar Lake in an large canvas tent. We knew the temperature dipped below freezing that night because we found ice in our water bucket. Russ and I woke up before dawn and hiked over Gunsight Pass to the southern slopes of the Uinta Mountains. Not knowing the best way to the top, we tackled the peak head-on. On that day we saw no other hikers near the peak, and since I arrived before Russ, for twenty minutes I was the highest person in all of Utah.
 

But that was nineteen years ago and things were different today. As we approached Anderson Pass we began to see the hikers filing in. Until today, we had scarcely seen any other people. I guess that the tallest peaks tend to attract the crowds. Everyone we met was coming from the north side.
 
I was surprised how almost nothing looked familiar. Even though it had been nineteen years, I should still have remembered something.
 
Just before reaching the Pass we left the trail and began to scale upward. For the most part it was boulder-hopping. Even the ascent didn't feel familiar.
 

Looking west during our ascent.

One of the false summits.

After a few false summits, we finally arrived at the true one. To my complete surprise, there was a young couple already there with their three-year-old daughter! They carried her up in a baby backpack carrier.
 
A complete panoramic view is uninhibited from the summit. Tall rocky ridges seem to crawl in every direction, each flanked by its own basin filled with thick timber and lakes. Mount Gilbert and Mount Emmons are seen from here, each being among the tallest peaks in the range. We could see Painter Basin directly below us and Atwood Basin in the distance, which is our destination tomorrow. The High Uintas are buffered by so much wilderness that I couldn't see any sign of modern development, even from our high vantage point.
 

An amazing father that carried his 3-year-old daughter to the summit!

View from King's Peak. In the distance you can see Mount Emmons and Atwood Lake.

I was impressed with the amount of people doing day trips from Henry's Fork—a round-trip distance of 28 miles. One couple ran most of it. Another man left at 4 am. The ridge to the summit seemed to be one continual train of hikers coming and going.
 
I was happy to get down the peak when we did. Storms were moving in. A lot of people were still on their way up. Streams seemed to flow everywhere and short, stubby flowers grew all around.
 

King's Peak.

By the time we returned to Painter Basin, the storms had caught up to us. I first felt solid pellets of hail hitting my face, blowing in from the north. Then it turned into an all-out assault. Luckily, Devin ran ahead of us and arrived at camp just in time to cover a few essential items.
 
We spent the next hour hunkered down inside our tents, waiting out the storm. (I calculated that our round-trip to King's Peak of 6.4 miles took us 5 ½ hours.) Once the storm passed we cleaned up camp and set out again.
 
At this point we had 22 miles left on our hike. Whatever we didn't do today would have to be done tomorrow. And tomorrow we also have to drive five hours to home.
 

Stream in Painter Basin.  South King's Peak in background.

From all the rain, the entire basin was one large marshland. Rivulets of water flowed from all directions. As we crossed the basin toward Trail Rider Pass I realized that the streams we now crossed were the headwaters of the Uinta River. In the last three days we have crossed dozens of streams. It was now becoming an old routine.
 
The pass into Atwood Basin is a rocky hill that is exposed. Another round of storms were now moving in and it was my goal to be up and over the pass before they met us. We didn't make it.
 
Just after cresting, the lightning and rain came together. We moved faster, but it was all around us. In desperation we chucked our trekking poles and crouched low next to a boulder. The entire experience was very nerve-racking. Lightning struck all around us, including many places on the path ahead. For forty-five minutes we sat crouched near the boulder. Some bolts struck in front of us, while others reverberated from behind. We kept light humor between the three of us, but we all knew that if just one strip of lightning decided to come our way, we would become toast.
 

Atop Trail Rider Pass waiting out a thunderstorm and doing a lot of praying!

Once the storm slowed down, we moved with haste into the basin. Even though the rain had stopped, everything was wet. Trees were saturated in moisture and the trail was nearly one continuous puddle of water. In spite of our miserable condition, I found beauty in the columbines and other wildflowers that grew along the trail.
 
We had hoped to make it down to Chain Lakes today, but that wasn't going to happen. We arrived at Atwood Lake, a massive reservoir of water, and found a cleared area near the dam on the east side. We decided to set up camp here.
 

Atwood Lake.

Columbine.

We are all exhausted and miserably cold. I am trying to warm up inside my sleeping bag, but even that is slightly damp. All my clothing is moist and cold. I am glad that tonight is our final night. Now if we can survive it!
 
Total distance today: 12.5 miles. Total on trip: 39.6 miles. Elevation at camp: 11,039 feet.
 

Sunset on Atwood Lake.

[As a side-note, after returning home from our backpacking trip, it bothered me that very little of our summit to King's Peak had looked familiar. Could it be that we hiked the wrong peak in 2000? A prominent, but less lofty peak rose to the northwest. Could we have accidentally hiked this peak instead? In my journal I recorded the view from the top: “Mount Emmons to the southeast, however, appeared to be taller.” Could the peak that I thought was Mount Emmons, really have been King's Peak? I had almost completely convinced myself that we had hiked the wrong peak until I examined a single picture that I had taken from the top. To my relief, it matched exactly with a picture that I took on this most recent trip, with objects in the foreground that could not have been seen from any other location except King's Peak.
 
In the year 2000, our trip to King's Peak occurred in October. By the time we returned to camp, loaded up the horses and rode back to the trail-head, we noticed dark storm clouds just behind us. After we arrived at the vehicles and were driving out, we observed fresh powder on the peaks. Shortly thereafter we learned that the mighty Uintas received over two feet of new snow. We were lucky to have made it out!] 

King's Peak from the north side in 2000.