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August 19, 2001

Karen Peterson and I partner again for a backpack trip to the Colorado backcountry. This time we are headed to the Uncompahgre wilderness. Our journey begins in Boulder. Today's destination is Gunnison, the second weekend in a row on this route for me. Last weekend it was mountain biking in Crested Butte, 30 minutes from Gunnison. The map of route is here.

We arrive in Gunnison around 5:00 PM. The trailhead is about 45 minutes from here, but it is the last bit of civilization where we can find a decent restaurant. Our plan is to camp here. We book a spot at the KOA. $19.00 for a postage stamp sized plot surrounded by other campers and RVs. I feel like I’m in a different country except everybody happens to speak English. The experience of camping at a KOA, especially with an RV, is completely foreign to camping in the backcountry. I know this is a completely valid way for people to spend their vacation. So I try to quell my judgmental attitude.  It’s just different from how I like to experience things.

August 20, 2001

We get up around 6:00 before all the other campers while we have some chance of getting a shower. In town, we get our last civilized breakfast. Driving to the trailhead at the middle fork of the Cimarron River we transition from the desert scrub around Gunnison to a lush valley. The cliffs and pinnacles that rise above us remind me of Bryce Canyon or Zion in Utah.

There are a few other cars at the trailhead. I don’t know where the people that belong to them are, and we never see them for the rest of the trip. Our hike in today climbs 1500 feet to about 11,500 ft over 4.5 miles, a relatively easy day to start. Despite the fact that this is a wilderness area, cows have fouled the trail. We pass three groups of cattle on the way up. After the trip I learn that Congress has not prohibited cattle grazing from wilderness areas. As much as the Forest Service puts regulations into place to help ensure a wilderness experience, they cannot prohibit this grazing. While the cattle mar the view of the trail, the view of the far side of the canyon is spectacular with Precipice and Coxcomb Peaks rising above the cliff walls.

Our campsite is just below tree line. As soon as we arrive, it starts raining, a theme that will be repeated in the coming days.

August 21, 2001

We awaken to a cloudy sky. Shortly after hitting the trail a light rain starts. We climb to middle fork pass at 12,600 ft. and are greeted with one of the most rewarding views in Colorado. I like to think that these views are afforded only to those who put in the effort to get there. Rising from the valley below are Uncompahgre, Matterhorn, and Wetterhorn peaks. The wind is howling, but it’s worth a little suffering to linger. Uncompahgre rises 3000 feet from the valley floor. Descending into the valley below at 11,400 ft. the wind abates and the sun peeks through enough to warm us. We climb again, now up around Matterhorn’s northwest side to our campsite on the grassy mountainside overlooking Uncompahgre Peak to the east. As soon as we find a campsite that is in reach of a water supply, it starts raining. This has only been a 3.8 mile hike. This morning our plan was to climb 13,500 foot Matterhorn, but the weather doesn’t relent. The wind kicks up and almost collapses the tent where we languish for the entire afternoon. The weather clears enough for us to filter more water and boil it for dinner, but the rain resumes and remains until morning. In the brief time between rains we are treated with a warm evening light peeking through the clouds on the mountains to the east still with a gray backdrop from the recent storms, a different nuance every moment the sun dips lower. This is why I’m here.

KP with Uncompahgre Peak Beyond From the Northwest

Matterhorn (left), Wetterhorn (right) From the North

Brief Evening Light

Uncompahgre Before Bedtime

August 22, 2001

The rain has stopped, mostly anyway, but it’s cloudy in every direction. Our plan is to climb Wetterhorn today, my 24^th 14’er. Knowing that mountain weather can change quickly, sometimes for the better, I am anxious to start climbing so that we can position ourselves to summit when the weather clears, even if it’s a small window. Karen is not as optimistic. After some heated debate, we get moving. The weather does in fact clear and we summit around noon. The rock on the final class 3 climb is dry despite the rain from last night. While there are clouds, there is enough sun enough to let us linger on the summit. The view across the ridge to the Matterhorn and Uncompahgre beyond is dramatic. The San Juan range extends to the south beyond sight.

Relieved that the weather held out and satisfied with our accomplishment, we head back to camp with the knowledge that the day is not over. We still have to pack up and move about 1.5 miles towards Uncompahgre. The clouds loom over us as we approach our new campsite. Again the rain comes down as we put up the tent. It clears briefly allowing us to pump water and fix dinner.

The Clouds Greet Us

View of Matterhorn and Uncompahgre Beyond from the Summit of Wetterhorn

August 23, 2001

After another night of rain, we wake to a few sprinkles and more clouds. The weather looks more forbidding today than yesterday. Nevertheless, our goal is to summit Uncompahgre, my 25^th 14’er. Waiting for some sign the weather might change, we start around 10:00, an hour later than we started yesterday. 

It’s not raining, but the clouds are not clearing. We spy another party above us, the first people we have seen since entering the wilderness. We attain the ridge at 13,100 ft and the other party is descending not having reached the summit. Obscured by the ridge, we now see what they did, a fast moving cloud ready to engulf us. The cloud hits us with a markedly lower temperature, wind, and spitting snow. After donning our cold weather and rain gear, we descend 100 ft. to a flat area off of the peak of the ridge. Shivering is starting to set in. It’s too cold and the thunder is too close. We decide to descend. The snow is really coming down now, creating a surreal landscape of green slopes veiled in white. 

At 12,500 ft., the snow stops. Blue sky is in the distance, although with still more clouds beyond. We have put in a lot of work to get this far and remember how the weather gave us a window yesterday. It’s still cold however, so with our heavy clothing still on, we turn around and head back up the mountain. Our pace is slow so we don’t build up a sweat and later get hypothermic. The weather clears by the time we get back on the ridge. Savoring the calm, I am still anxious because of storms in the distance. Soon the leading storm clouds reach us. Each of us picks up the pace. My sense of urgency is greater than Karen’s as I need this peak and have some trepidation about lighting. Karen has already summited all 54 Colorado 14’ers. This is her second time around. She has also dodged many a lighting storm. So I  break away, eager to summit before the brunt of the storm hits us. At about an eight of a mile from the summit I can hear thunder coming from around the surrounding peaks. I drop my pack and sprint (as much as one can do above 14,000 ft.) to the broad summit, touch the top, and descend. There is no view today as all the peaks are enshrouded in dark clouds. Karen meets me at my pack, not looking too happy that I broke out ahead of her. She continues to the summit, clearly not as anxious as me about the weather. I wait, wondering if lightning will strike.

As we descend, the storm proper hits us. 50 mph winds blow snow in our faces. THIS IS AUGUST! On top of a ridge at 12,500 ft, we find a windbreak built out of rocks. It appears others have been here before us who suffered similar fierce weather. Camp is only 1.5 miles away, but that wind is so cold. So is sitting here, even with the windbreak. We know we’ll just get colder if we remain, so we force ourselves to face the storm and descend the rest of the way to camp. The wind lessens as we descend. Karen notices how quiet it is. This is one of those magical properties of snow. We stop, close our eyes, and everything is absolutely quiet, a calm in an otherwise tempestuous day. Nevertheless camp calls. Our down sleeping bags are welcome comforts. The snow continues for a few more hours. Again the weather clears enough for us to pump water and cook. It’s cold enough that we setup the stove in the vestibule and cook from inside the cozy comfort of our sleeping bags.

This has been an uncompahgrable day on an uncompahgrable mountain.

KP at the Windbreak in the Snow Storm

Will I fit in that thing? It's cold.

Photo Courtesy of Karen Peterson

August 24, 2001

The weather has beaten us down some and we fear more of it. The ground is frozen outside, but the sky is blue. Nevertheless, we decide to cut the trip a day short and hike out the way we came in rather than through the east fork valley as planned. The sun soon erases most of the evidence of yesterday's snow. 

Somewhere along the trail today I noticed that I have achieved an elusive state of mind, present in the moment, every step a pleasure, every detail savored. I'm not thinking of reaching the trailhead but only of being here in this place. Perhaps it is the fair weather. I think it is more likely the fact that there are no more goals on this trip to worry about. On the second day I wanted to get to camp early enough to climb Matterhorn. On the third day I fretted over summiting Wetterhorn. On the fourth day, I stressed over bagging Uncompahgre. Today, on the fifth day, I have no goal or more aptly, no desire that, left unfulfilled, will cause me disappointment. I feel liberated, no pressures ahead of me. This is not to say there weren't enjoyable moments during the preceding days. It's just that all of those moments were tinged with a nagging pressure to accomplish the next goal, and the time in between those moments was often spent thinking of that next goal, not rooted enough in the present. I believe a goal is a good thing to have, but my desire to achieve a goal sometimes blocks out my awareness of the moment. While I have recognized this in myself before, it seems to be a recurring learning process to not let my desires impede my experience of the present.

As we climb back up to middle fork pass, we pause to look behind us towards the towering peaks we climbed the days before. Today the clouds around them are fewer and peaceful. Attaining the pass, we spot Coxcomb Peak and Precipice Peak farther north and it’s eroded cliffs, a view that becomes more intimate, framed by the sloped branches of spruce trees, as we descend the valley back to the car.

Wetterhorn (left), Matterhorn (right)

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