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By Terry, August 14, 2010 12:01 am

Culebra Peak (14,047 ft.) and Red Mountain (13,908 ft.), one of Colorado’s Centennial Peaks

GPS and elevation profile of my route up Culebra Peak and Red Mountain

Google Earth profile

“Culebra” is a Spanish word meaning harmless or venom-less snake. Culebra Peak was the only 14,000-foot peak I had left to summit in the Sangre de Cristo Range for a reason — it’s on private land. The landowners — Cielo Vista Ranch — while gracious-enough to allow groups of twenty-five hikers at-a-time access to the peak, reap a pretty penny. To hike to the summit of Culebra Peak will cost you $100.00. The optional trip over to Red Mountain — a Centennial Peak — costs and extra $50.00. Needless to say, many of my peers in the mountaineering community reject Culebra as being a part of their completed 14er list and often refer to it as the “ABC” list (All But Culebra). While $150 is not a drop in the bucket for me by no stretch of the imagination, I still wanted to summit Culebra and Red Mountain. After spending virtually the entire previous month’s time tackling the upper-echelon peaks of the Elk Mountains (Maroon Bells traverse, Pyramid Peak, and Capitol Peak), I just wanted to enjoy an easy hike. The southernmost 14,000-foot peak in Colorado seemed like a good option — if I could get in.

My timing couldn’t have been better. I waited until Thursday (8/12) to contact the Cielo Vista Ranch. When I did, I simply asked whether there was room on Saturday for a solo hiker. Surprisingly, the ranch just had a few cancellations earlier that day, so I went ahead and reserved a spot. The ranch emailed me a liability waiver to fill out and bring with me and a few other documents like a map of the area and some guidelines to follow. I was expected to be at the ranch’s gate by 6:00 AM and would be let in. It seemed simple enough, though starting a hike after 6:00 was not my usual style.

After work on Friday, I went home and directly to bed. My plan was to wake up at 1:00, leave at 2:00, and arrive early enough to get in as quickly as possible. It went almost as planned. I didn’t actually get on the interstate until about 2:15. To top it off, by the time I was ten miles into the trip, I realized that I forgot my camera! I turned around and sped back to my home as fast as I could, grabbed my camera, and was back on the interstate again at 2:38. I lost some valuable time and needed to make-up for it. I didn’t actually know how long it was going to take me to reach the small town of San Luis, CO — the closest town to Cielo Vista Ranch — but I knew I didn’t want to be late. I drove about five miles-per-hour faster than I normally would have and made good time. Once in Walsenburg, I headed west on US Hwy 160 over La Veta Pass and into the town of Ft. Garland. From there, I headed south on State Hwy 159 into San Luis and followed directions to the ranch from there. I arrived at the gate at 5:00 and decided to try and catch a few more winks. There were some hikers who had car camped, others who had set up tents just inside the gate (which they allow).

At 5:50, one of the ranch hands arrived to let us in. I walked up to him with a check and my waiver in hand, but he told me that he would get those items from me at the ranch office. I jumped back into my truck and proceeded through the gate. He checked off my name as I drove through and I continued on to the ranch office which was about two miles further in. The entire group of hikers parked near the office and once the ranch hand collected our money and waivers, took us back outside for a few words of encouragement, and sent us on our way. I was the first to drive up the road. Since I wanted to record 3,000 feet of elevation gain, I wanted to start at an area they refer to as “Four Way”. Most of the hikers that day parked in the same area, but a few vehicles continued on to the trailhead at the end of the road, about another mile in. I quickly donned my backpack and headed off.

I made short work of the easy hike up the road. By the time I reached the end of it, there were just a few people ahead of me, but not by far. From the road (though not to the end of it where vehicles park), a faint trail moved off toward the southeast (I noticed a small, round blue reflector near the start of the trail). One of the things that the ranch touts is that Culebra is one of the most pristine 14ers in the state. This is basically true. By limiting the amount of foot traffic that the peak sees, it doesn’t have the large and obvious trails that most 14ers do. Unlike peaks such as Pikes, Bierstadt, and Grays and Torreys (just to name a few), it doesn’t see dozens upon dozens of hikers on a daily basis in the summer months. Culebra is an easy Class 2 hike and would undoubtedly be the most frequented of the Sangres if it weren’t privately-owned. It’s relatively easy to get to (other than being far away) and requires little skill to hike.

The rest of the day’s Culebra hikers below me.

The Blanca massif to the north viewed from just below the talus on the Culebra Peak trail

Panorama looking to the west from the Culebra Peak trail

Among the literature that was emailed to me was a map of the peak with three routes highlighted: The ridge route, the “talus” route, and the “Roach” route (a route that Gerry Roach, author of Colorado’s Fourteeners, mapped in his book). The guidelines stated that one should try to take a different route up and back down to cut-down on trail erosion. By the time I was high into the basin above 12,000 feet, I spotted a line to the south in the talus that I decided to take. I had moved far ahead of the group by then, so there was no harm in taking a slightly off-kilter route. I don’t believe it was the true “talus” route; I think I overshot the start of it at the top of a small gully with a creek flowing through it. The edge of the creek was rimmed with ice and I saw frost on the grass. It would put me up on the ridge and into the sunshine quicker, though.

After spending some time talus-hopping, I neared the ridge and was greeted by warm sunshine. As I got closer to the ridge, I noticed a large cairn ahead of me. I thought this a bit ironic because one of the guidelines mentioned in the literature sent to me stated that hikers should knock down any small cairns that they come across in order to preserve the pristine nature of the route. I guess some large cairns were in order, though, to prevent people from becoming lost. I suppose that could happen if low clouds moved in an obscured the view, but there was no chance of that happening that day as the forecast was near-perfect. Once at the top of the ridge, I got my first glimpse at Culebra’s summit. It lay beyond a false summit which appeared to be higher than the true summit due to forced perspective. The trail turned right and went in a westerly direction. I stopped for a few minutes for rest and for a photo or two

The point that appears to be the summit in this photo is actually a false summit. Culebra Peak is to the left of it.

I started walking to the west and saw that I was going to be losing some elevation before heading up to the false summit. Great, I thought to myself. The hike hadn’t been very difficult, so this minor obstacle wasn’t going to make much of a difference. Ahead of me, I saw something mighty peculiar — a huge cairn. I had no idea how tall it was, but my interest was piqued. When I approached it at last, I realized that it was probably one of the largest cairns I had ever encountered. It stood atop an already large boulder; building it must have taken quite some time and tall people to construct. Square-shaped, it reminded me of a huge, life-sized Jenga (though I wasn’t about to start pulling rocks out from the bottom to re-stack on the top :O)! I carefully stood on top of the boulder next to it to get an approximation of how tall it was. Standing next to it, I saw that it was clearly taller than I was — about half-a-head or more. I estimated it to be about six feet tall! Yep, it definitely one of largest cairns I had ever seen. I hopped off of the boulder and took a photo of it. Again, the irony of the literature sent to me came to mind. I doubted that anyone was going to be knocking this cairn over! I laughed and moved on.

After the huge cairn, I descended a little bit along the ridge route before starting back up toward the false summit. The trail in this area was faint, but easy enough to follow. I only needed to walk the ridge until I reached the summit, after all. There was quite a bit of talus-hopping involved; I remembered seeing a post on 14ers.com where someone was asking about toting a baby in a carrier to the summit and a few people advised against it because of this section. Some of the talus was very tippy and one shift could put parent and child in danger of serious injury. It wasn’t much for me, though. I’ve done so much talus-hopping this summer that I actually feel like my balance is improving! A few summers ago, my “signature” move on any 14er was a slip and a wipe-out. I was quite clumsy. I think my weight loss has also helped, but I attribute most of my improved balance to an improvement in skill-level and just feeling more comfortable and at home in the mountains.

Gaining the false summit wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. Whenever you have to lose and re-gain elevation above 13,000 feet it’s a pain in the ass, but all a part of the experience. When I topped out on the false summit, I saw that the true summit was only a short distance away. Beyond that, I got my first view of my second destination — Red Mountain. There are a few summits in Colorado that bear the name “Red Mountain”. Personally, I think of Red Mountain Pass along Hwy 550 in the San Juan Range whenever I hear it. This one happens to be “Red Mountain A” and as mentioned before it is one of Colorado’s Centennial Peaks (one of the highest 100 summits in the state). From the false summit, I only hiked for another five minutes or so before I found myself on the summit of Culebra Peak at 9:00. It took me less than two-and-a-half hours to make it there. The wind was stiff and cold, but not unbearable. I sat behind a large windbreak, enjoyed half a sandwich, and re-hydrated before taking a few summit shots.

Various shots of the Blanca and Crestone Groups to the north

The Spanish Peaks to the northeast

Obligatory summit shot

360° panorama from the summit of Culebra Peak

I stayed on the summit by myself for about twenty minutes before I decided to pack-up and head to my second destination — Red Mountain. The saddle between Culebra and Red Mountain dropped about 500 feet, so I figured it was going to be slow-going. As soon as I stepped off the summit, I was immediately pelted by strong winds. If that wasn’t bad enough, by the time I had gotten almost half-way down the initial descent, I realized that I had forgotten my SPOT on the summit! I turned around and began back up to retrieve it. When I got there, a solo hiker was signing the summit register. He found my SPOT, figured I’d be back for it, and placed it on the windbreak. He asked if I was heading over to Red Mountain and I answered affirmatively. He then mentioned that he would probably see me over there. Now, when I was back at the ranch office, mine was the only name that I saw “Red Mountain” next to. I told him that I didn’t think the ranch would appreciate him breaking the rules and hiking over to it without paying the fee. His response was, “Well, Gerry Roach says that you should just summit it while you’re up here.” I was a little irritated by that. There I was — playing by the rules — and some ignoramus was going to summit for free while I chose to pay the extra fee? It did get me thinking, though, about how the ranch prevented people from summiting Red Mountain if they didn’t pay. I was seriously considering reporting him to the ranch if he attempted to do the traverse — and there was no way he was going to be able to catch-up to me.

Agitated, I left the summit for a second time and began to descend on loose talus. The wind was bitingly cold and pretty fierce. It made me wonder if I should have put my fleece jacket on. Following the ridge directly would have taken me up another high point before descending to the low point on the saddle, but I chose to skirt to the east of it and was granted a temporary reprieve from the wind. Another short descent to the low point on the saddle brought me to the base of Red Mountain. I looked up; I spotted a faint trail swichbacking sharply up to the summit. I started up thinking that I was going to tire quickly but much to my surprise, I made extremely good time. Back on Culebra, I noticed a group of hikers had summited. What I didn’t see, though, was anyone following me over. I summited Red Mountain at 10:00, found another windbreak, and immediately sat down behind it. The wind sucked a lot of heat out of my body, so I dug the fleece jacket out of my backpack and put it on before enjoying the other half of a sandwich and a Nalgene of Propel Fitness Water.

Culebra Peak viewed from the summit of Red Mountain

The Spanish Peaks seen from Red Mountain

Uhh, I don’t think this is normally an issue with summit registers O_o

Near-360° panorama from the summit of Red Mountain. I tried for the full 360°, but the wind was blowing pretty fiercely.

I only stayed on the summit of Red Mountain for about fifteen minutes before I started back. I wasn’t sure if the same group was still on top of Culebra or not, but there seemed to be a few different colors! By the time I reached the saddle, the wind was blowing at a sustained 50-60 MPH. Standing and walking became very difficult and, again, I welcomed the windbreak provided by the bump in the saddle. It was actually quite warm without the wind. To the west of me (in the direction the wind was blowing from) was a pretty deep valley. I suspected that it was this topographic feature that was contributing to the wind speed by funneling it up and over the saddle. It certainly wasn’t as strong at the top of Culebra before I left it the first time. After warming up, I continued on to the summit of Culebra again. This time, it was really slow-going. Re-gaining 500 feet of elevation again — no matter how simple it seemed the first time — was going to be a little tough. I talus-hopped up the steep slope and eventually made my way back to Culebra.

Before I plopped down behind the windbreak again, I noticed a solo hiker making his way back to the trailhead. I was going to need to rest for at least ten minutes before heading back. I ate some energy snacks as well as a Detour protein bar. Now that the sun was in a better position, I wanted to take a couple more panoramas.

Near-Panorama taken from my second summit of Culebra Peak

Near-Panorama taken from my second summit of Culebra Peak

I took this panorama looking southwest between the true summit and false summit of Culebra Peak

Various shots of the trail on my way back down to the trailhead

I passed the solo hiker on my way back up from the low point on the ridge. I asked him if he had driven up by himself (I was concerned that he might have to walk all the way down to the ranch office) and he told me that he did, so I continued on my way. I passed the large cairn and decided that I was going to walk back down the ridge route rather than descend the talus. Before I got too far down on the ridge, I decided to take one last panorama of Culebra.

Panorama looking at Culebra Peak from its northwest ridge route

The ridge route was pretty easy to follow down. There was a portion of it that looked like it could have been a road at sometime. It switchbacked down, but seemed to be going too far to the north. I took a turn, then headed straight down into the basin — back to near where I started hiking up the talus.

Panorama looking northwest from the Culebra Peak Trail

It didn’t take me long to locate the trail again as I approached treeline. I stopped in various spots and took photos of the route since my last ones were before sunrise.

Various shots of the trail on my way back down to the trailhead. If you look carefully in the photo on the far right, you can see the small, round blue reflector next to the road. I figured it was there to mark where the trail left the road.

When I arrived back at the road, the hikers who had driven up to the trailhead were still there. One of them offered to give me a ride back down to where I parked, but I politely declined. It was only another mile to walk and in order for me to get the 3,000-foot elevation gain, I had to return under my own power. Two vehicles passed me on the way down. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature rose as I got lower in elevation. I arrived back at my truck at 1:00, packed-up, and drove back down to the ranch office.

GPS stats taken from my hike up Culebra Peak.

The ranch hand explained to us that we needed to stop and sign out. The gate had a key box with a combination that was written down on the sign-out sheet. I drove down to the gate and located the key box. I had to pull the gate open myself, drive out, and lock it behind me before replacing the key. My hike was complete! I still had to endure a long drive home though. As I drove out, I stopped to take one last photo of Culebra and Red Mountain from just outside the ranch. Although the hike was easy and relatively enjoyable, it’s not likely that I’ll hike the two peaks again. Well, I suppose if someone paid the fee for me, it could happen.

Culebra Peak and Red Mountain seen from just outside Cielo Vista Ranch

Google Earth .KML file of my route (right-click and “save target as” to save the file). NOTE: For some reason, if you’re using Internet Explorer, when you “save target as”, it changes the file extension to .XML. This is incorrect. To be able to view this in Google Earth, change the file extension to .KML before saving the file. It downloads correctly in Firefox.

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By Terry, August 7, 2010 8:52 pm

Columbines silhouetted by Capitol Peak (14,130 feet)

GPS and elevation profile of our route up Capitol Peak

Google Earth profile

Capitol Peak was the last 14er in the Elk Mountains that I had yet to climb. Named in 1874 by the Hayden Survey, it was called “Capitol Peak” after the stately US Capitol building in Washington, D.C. (even though it doesn’t actually resemble the building). Prior to 2010, I had only summited two of the Elk’s official and one non-official 14ers — Castle Peak, Snowmass Mountain, and Conundrum Peak, respectively. The Elks are rugged and a few are very remote; I didn’t feel like I had the experience or the nerve to climb most of them — especially Capitol. It is regarded by many experienced mountaineers as having the most difficult standard route of all of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. What makes it intimidating is its infamous Knife Edge: a 150-foot very narrow section of rock with about 1,200 feet of exposure on either side of it. A little over a year ago, a U.S. Paralympic Swim Coach, James “Jimi” Raymond Flowers, died when he slipped on some lingering snow on his way down from Capitol Peak. Capitol is a mountain for neither the faint-of-heart nor the inexperienced.

Brian and I have been planning on Capitol for — well, since last year. When he asked me when I was planning to climb it, I told him that I was aiming for the first weekend in August. Brian and I have been on several hikes and climbs this summer. I wasn’t sure if we were going to have anyone else on the trip, but his brother, Brad, decided to join us as well. We made plans to meet at their sister’s house in Carbondale, stay overnight there, then hit the trail the next morning. After work on Thursday, I made the long four-hour drive to Carbondale. Brian and Brad arrived about forty-five minutes later and we enjoyed a few drinks before turning-in for the night. The next morning, we ate at Red Rock Diner and then drove to the trailhead. We hit the trail right after 8:30.

There are actually two trails that one can take from the trailhead: The old standard trail or the “ditch” trail. Over the years, the ditch trail has pretty much replaced the old trail as the standard route because the elevation gain and loss along the way is less pronounced. Having hiked to Capitol Lake last fall, I already knew the ditch trail. We planned to camp at the lake, head up early on Saturday to hopefully summit, and hike out the same day. There was one unpredictable variable in our equation, though — the weather. Over the past few weeks, Colorado has experienced a much wetter Monsoon season than in previous years. Because of this, though, the mountains are lush and green. All of the rain can cause soils to become loose and cause rock slides, however. The weather forecast was not favorable for us; there was a 60% chance of thunderstorms on Friday, a 70% chance of thunderstorms on Saturday, and an 80% chance on Sunday. Typically, these storms roll-through in the afternoon, but if enough evaporation occurs early in the day from saturated ground, storms can pop-up much earlier.

The backpack in was a lot easier than I expected. After my Navajo Lake debacle with the nearly seventy-pound backpack, I hoped to keep it a little lighter this time. I had a lot less extra clothes, no mountaineering boots, no crampons, no ice axe, and a little less food. It was only about fifty pounds this time around! At any rate, we made good time along the ditch trail. It was about six-and-a-half miles to the campgrounds at the lake. I wanted to get up there early for two reasons: 1) To beat the weather; and 2) To have a better selection of campsites. Since there were only two other vehicles at the trailhead, it looked like were going to luck-out on #2. Hopefully, the weather would hold out as well.

Panorama of the ditch trail as we started our descent toward Capitol Creek

After crossing Capitol Creek, the ditch trail intersected with the main Capitol Creek trail, turned right, and meandered through the forest. We passed the intersection with the West Snowmass Trail which is accessible from the Snowmass Lake Trailhead. Some people choose to hike in to Capitol Lake via the West Snowmass Trail; I heard that it isn’t much longer than from the Capitol Creek trailhead. We entered a clearing that gave us a great view of Capitol above some trees before entering the tree canopy again. Right as we did, I noticed something a little peculiar to the left of a trail. I wasn’t sure if it was some branches or something, but it ended up being a dead, decaying cow. It looked like it had been dead for a week or two or more. We quickly moved past it and into the forest. The trail under the canopy was extremely muddy in areas due to all of the recent rain. We came to a cattle gate, moved through it, and continued on.

After crossing Capitol Creek a couple more times, we finally came to the camping spots near Capitol Lake. It was just after noon and clouds had been increasing the entire time. We quickly set-up our tents and settled into camp for a couple of hours. I guess it was around 2:00 when we decided to take a stroll over to Capitol Lake which wasn’t that far away. When we reached the lake, however, the sky opened up on us and we were forced to run back to our tents for shelter. The wind blew strongly and it appeared that we were going to be in for quite a ride. I climbed into my sleeping bag to keep warm and began to doze off. About twenty minutes later, the temperature in my tent began to rise. The sun was coming back out and there were patches of blue sky all around. It appeared that the storm had moved over without a deluge — something we were all thankful for! Brian, Brad, and I climbed out of our tents and decided to walk over to the lake again.

Together, the three of us reached the lake and meandered along the shoreline. With the clearing sky, it was absolutely beautiful. I looked to the west; at the top of a trail was a saddle which sat just below the 5.7 Class North Buttress of Capitol. The last time I hiked up to Capitol Lake, I regretted not hiking to the saddle. I really wanted to see what was to the west of it. With Brian in his Crocs, we hiked the trail. Along the way, we passed a lady who was fly fishing in the lake. We don’t think she spoke English as she did nothing more than nod or shake her head in response to the questions we asked about her luck with fishing. We smiled and moved on.

Panorama of Capitol Peak from Capitol Lake’s north shore

Brian, Brad, and I were in no hurry. We strolled along the easy trail and stopped many time to “smell the roses”, so to speak. The photo at the very beginning of this entry was taken during one of these stops and the wildflowers were (to borrow a term from a popular ABC reality show) “amazing”. When we reached the saddle, the expansive views to the west were incredible. Some clouds were beginning to move back in, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. Below us was a basin with a trail which eventually led down to Avalanche Lake. Above us to the left was Capitol’s North Buttress. Its presence was intimidating. I walked beneath it and looked upward. Maybe someday when I’ve had some technical climbing experience, I’ll return here and climb it, but I don’t think anyone could convince me to try it at my level of experience right now. The time was right around 3:00 or so. We stayed for a few minutes more before heading back down the trail.

Looking east at Mt. Daly over Capitol Lake

Panorama looking west into Avalanche Basin

On our way back down the trail, I stopped by the lake to fill up the Katadyn Base Camp bag that I had been carrying the entire time. Once filled, I continued to follow the trail, but was called back to the lake by Brian. Inspired by another 14ers.com member, he wanted to jump in and asked if I would take some photos (!). He stripped down to his boxers, then took those off, too. Tossing them onto a boulder he was standing on, the boxers made their way into the lake. Brian jumped into the 40°-45° water and quickly swam around to retrieve his drawers (which were sinking into the lake by then). He asked me if I had gotten Capitol in the background, but because I had zoomed-in, I did not. I told him that if he did it again I would be able to, so he climbed back onto the boulder and jumped in again! By this time, he was really cold. Fortunately, the sun was shining brightly and was warm. Brad was eventually coaxed into jumping into the lake as well (I was not convinced ), but only one time. Once Brad was dressed, we headed back to camp (due to the nature of the photos of Brian and Brad jumping into the lake, they will not appear in this post).

Back at camp, we lazed around and basked in the warm afternoon sun for a couple more hours. Brian and Brad read books while I simply listened to the sounds of nature surrounding us. I also ate almost the entire time. It’s not often that I get to eat like that simply because I have nothing else to do (plus, I needed the calories and carbs for the climb the next morning). The sun eventually began to set and the temperature dropped quickly. We ate dinner and talked some more before I decided to turn-in. It must’ve been about 7:00 or so. I’m not sure how much later Brian and Brad turned in, but it couldn’t have been that much. I do know that a few hours after that, I was awakened by some late arrivals to the camping area. They proceeded to talk out loud without regard to who might already be there. Frustrated, I unzipped my tent and yelled, “Excuse me! Can you keep the chatter down, please?” They quieted the talking, which I was thankful for. I went back to sleep with much anticipation for the next morning.

I awoke at 3:00 AM the next morning and peered upward outside my tent. The night sky was clear and hundreds of stars were easily visible. I got dressed, then proceeded to make breakfast. At 3:30, I roused Brian and Brad. After their morning constitutions and a quick breakfast, we were ready to go. A few people who had camped near us were already on the trail; I followed their headlamps as they slowly made their way up to the Capitol Peak/Mt. Daly saddle. We left camp at about 4:23 and headed in the same direction. It was about twenty minutes later than I wanted to start, but everything worked out just fine since we had a delay due to darkness further into the hike. To my amazement, I was able to power up the trail to the saddle without stopping. I think we made it to the Capitol/Daly saddle in about half an hour.

We caught up to the other party along the trail after the saddle as it meandered to the south side of Capitol’s northeast ridge. Along this portion of the hike, we came to a crux of sorts — a gully. Now, normally something like this would be easily dealt with but because the sun had yet to make an appearance (it was quite dark still), the six of us stood around and decided to wait for a little more light. I examined my GPS; it was pointing us straight across the gully. As soon as there was a little bit of light in the eastern horizon, I down climbed and made my way up the loose soil-and-scree-ridden gully to rejoin Brian (who had down climbed a little higher up than I did). Brad followed Brian’s route down. We crossed to the other side of the gully were I discovered cairns. We were back on track!

As the eastern horizon continued to lighten, the cairns become easier to spot and the trail to follow. The photos to the right and to the left were obviously taken on our way back and give an idea of the terrain that we had to traverse. While following the trail, we encountered a snowfield which was probably about half the length of a football field across. The snow was soft at first, but the second half was harder and made me a little nervous. After my glissading incident on our way down from El Diente, I’m a bit more wary of crossing snow when there isn’t a safe run-out below me. We made it just fine, though. Our sights were set on what was still ahead of us: a pretty massive talus field. Beyond the talus was K2 — the 13,664-foot sub-peak of Capitol Peak. It’s topographic prominence is less than 300 feet, so it is not considered a separate peak, but is apparently enjoyable to summit, nonetheless. Following K2 along the route was the crux of the journey — the Knife Edge. The anticipation was getting to me!

Our sights became fixated on a ridge that was directly in front of us. Following the ridge to the left was a subpeak and a higher peak that we assumed was K2 and Capitol. Just below the ridge was some lingering snow and we spotted some steps kicked-in to it. We scrambled up to the steps and discovered that the snow was way too hard to attempt to walk up it safely without proper foot gear. We followed the bottom of the snow until we were able to climb up to the top of the ridge. To our right, we spotted another couple of peaks. I checked my GPS and it was telling me that the next waypoint was over 400 feet behind us. We had become so fixated on the ridge, we didn’t realize that the actual trail curved over to the right further down and headed to the northwest toward K2! Looking in that direction, we saw a solo climber making his way along the route we were supposed to be on. It was easily remedied, though. Once we discovered our mistake, we simply followed the ridge until we spotted cairns again below K2. Below us, I saw a group of three climbers and two groups of two climbers (which could have easily been one group of four), so I knew we were not going the only ones making a bid for the summit that day despite the horrible forecasted weather. I later discovered that the peak we were heading toward was Clark Peak (13,560 feet), named for mountain navigator Harold Clark of Aspen, CO.

Looking back at Capitol and K2 from the Capitol/Clark Peak ridge (left) and up at K2 from along its own ridge (right)

Brian, Brad, and I stayed high on the the ridge up K2. The 14ers.com description of the route leads in a slightly different direction, but does mention that getting to K2′s summit was rewarded with a great view of Capitol. Before we realized it, we were very close to the top as we traversed across the north face of K2. The three of us decided to take a detour to the summit to rest for a few minutes and refuel before taking on the true crux of our climb.

The climb to K2′s summit was easy and I recommend it to anyone who is attempting to summit Capitol. Once there, Brian, Brad, and I removed our packs and began to refuel/rehydrate. Below us, we got our first glimpse of the Knife Edge. Up until then, the Knife Edge was something of a legend for me, a hush-hush place only spoken of in furtive whispers. It was a place that I treated as a celebrity — untouchable, unattainable. I never thought I would ever be that close of it, much less staring right at it in front of me. I shuddered in excitement. The previous years of hiking, climbing, and mountaineering had prepared me for this moment. The weather was good; nothing was going to turn me back.

The climber ahead treated us to a demonstration on how to cross the Knife Edge from the summit of K2

The three of us down climbed K2 and walked across a short notch. To my left was a steep couloir with an extreme drop-off. That was one of the most extreme exposure moments that I had ever experienced, but it further excited me. Climbing up the other side of the notch, it wasn’t long before we were staring down the gun barrel of Capitol Peak’s Knife Edge. Only about 150 feet to the other side, it had turned-around many a climber who was sketched by the 1,200 feet of exposure on either side of it. Most people are forced into straddling the Edge and scooting across it. That was what I intended to do as I had no concerns about how silly it looked. My pride was going to be left on this side of it.

Capitol Peak’s infamous Knife Edge

Brian was leading the group at first; I felt a twinge of nervousness from him, so I offered to go first. With a “gulp” and a deep breath, I started across. The rock was solid, but there was no way I was going to be able to walk across it. The Edge was a lot narrower than I anticipated it to be; the crossing — a bit scarier. I had hoped that Brian and Brad would stay on the other side until I finished my crossing, but heard them right behind me. About half-way across, I stopped to take a photo of them. I was immediately ordered to keep going. I think we ended up straddling the Edge the entire way save a few areas on the south side of it where there were cracks in the rock to stand upon. The sense of accomplishment I felt upon safely reaching the other side was like no other. My companions and I shouted at the top of our lungs in excitement. Our journey was far from over, though.

Getting to the base of Capitol Peaks summit pitch was no walk in the park. We had to follow the ridge after the Knife Edge over some pretty sketchy terrain. I didn’t feel as exposed on any of it as I did on the Knife Edge, though.

We eventually down climbed into another short notch and climbed up to the base of the final summit pitch. From here, the route description recommended we stay away from the ridge proper and look for cairns on the south side of it. The route-finding and climbing was tough at times; on several occasions, we found ourselves either looking up or looking down at cairns that were twenty feet or more above or below us. I tried to pick out portions of the climb where we could ascend ledges, but they were few and far-between in areas.

Looking back down at the northeast ridge

A look at the climb ahead

There was a point where our only choice was to climb straight up along a rock face. Climbing to the top of the rock face, I realized that we had reached a false summit. Across from me to the west, I saw the solo climber and a familiar object that I had seen on many a trip report in the past — a U.S. flag. There was a short scramble along the ridge involved before we reached my Elk Mountains 14er finisher — the summit of Capitol Peak! It was the pinnacle of my achievements in my quest to summit all of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. Brian, Brad, and I celebrated vociferously and without shame.

Capitol Lake viewed from the summit of Capitol Peak

Snowmass Mountain and the Pierre Lakes to the south

K2 viewed from Capitol’s summit

Mt. Daly and Capitol Lake from the summit

The Pierre Lakes

Brian, Brad, and me on the summit

“Oh, say, can you see…!” I felt very patriotic

Panoramic shot from the summit of Capitol Peak

Even thought the weather was terrific, Brian, Brad, and I only lingered on the summit for about 20 minutes. We conversed with Carl — the solo climber — who was nice enough to take a photo of us together before he started back down. We ate some snacks and rehydrated before packing up and starting the second half of our journey. People often forget that reaching a summit is only the half-way point of any successful summit bid, but it was foremost in my mind. We needed to traverse the Knife Edge one more time.

We took extreme caution when down climbing from the summit. Guided by cairns, it didn’t seem like long before we approaching the narrow section of the ridge prior to reaching the Knife Edge again. I looked ahead; there were climbers making their way across the crux of the route. I noticed something else — they were roped together. I had hoped to avoid having to wait for groups of people to cross the Edge, but it appeared that we might be in for a short wait, at least.

Maroon Bells, Pyramid Peak, and Castle Peak viewed from Capitol’s northeast ridge

By the time the three of us reached the Knife Edge again, the group that was roped together were just finishing their traverse of it. The guys at the front and the end seemed to be quite a bit younger than the two in the middle. Brian found out that they were from an Aspen mountaineering guide service. When asked how things were going, the guide at the end seemed concerned that their bid for the summit was taking longer than anticipated. There were already signs of weather building in the clouds. I hoped that they would be able to successfully summit and return safely.

Looking across the Knife Edge toward K2

I want to thank Brian for these awesome photos of me traversing the Knife Edge on our way back towards K2. I felt a bit more comfortable on our return and actually walked over portions of it, but it was mostly straddled again.

When I safely reached the other side, it was my turn to return the favor. When I turned around and prepared to take some photos, tragedy struck! I watched Brian ahead of Brad and saw something fall to his right. For a moment, I thought it was a rock, but Brian was visibly upset. He and Brad continued to look down to their right; a string of obscenities spewed forth from Brian’s mouth like molten lava from the maw of Kilauea. At first, I thought it may have been his digital camera. Upon calling out to them, I was informed that it was Brian’s Garmin 60CSx. He had forgotten to zip-up the pocket on his pants. When straddling the Knife Edge, it pushed upward and fell to its demise. Brad said he saw pieces of it break off while it tumbled probably over 500 feet down. Brian lamented.

When Brian and Brad were safely across, we took a few moments to remember the GPS. Brian hadn’t known it long, but it was going to be missed, nevertheless. My own 60CSx unit lost a brother that day; I swear I heard the faint sound of “Taps” echoing throughout the Elk Mountains. We will never forget. :’(

Instead of re-summiting K2, we decided to traverse the north side of it. This was probably not the best idea. The rock was not as stable as it was on top of the ridge and there were areas of loose soil to contend with. We all made it back to the lower portion of the ridge just fine, though. Clouds with dark bottoms were building. The quicker we could get off of the mountain, the better. We only rested a few minutes before heading back to camp.

On our way down from K2, we encountered a couple of climbers who were attempting Capitol as a day trip. We stopped and talked to them for a few minutes; Brian gave the climbers the route description print-out since we were no longer in need of it. They thanked us and continued on. We, in the meantime, made short work of our return trip. It didn’t seem like long at all before we were back at the gully that gave us so much trouble earlier that morning. In the daylight, it was not much of a challenge. Brian and I walked directly across it and ascended some easy ledges. Brad, in the meantime, descended down into the gully and crossed — eventually finding a faint trail that switchbacked steeply back up to the main trail. Together, we walked back to the Capitol/Daly saddle. Only an easy descent to camp remained. I think the gravity of what I had accomplished hit me then. I had safely summited Capitol Peak. Damn, that was fun!

A final look back at Capitol Peak from the Capitol/Daly saddle

Brian, Brad, and I had a noticeable spring in our steps as we descended off of the saddle and headed back into camp right after 12:00 PM. Even though I was coming off of a high, I could tell that I needed to rest for a bit. Our plan was to pack-up and return to the trailhead the same day, but I needed to recharge for a bit. We walked back into camp, ate a small meal and snacks, and rested for probably about half an hour before our packing was placed into high-gear. Clouds were becoming more numerous and our campground had even more visitors. As I was finishing, Brian called my attention to the Knife Edge. Three silhouettes appeared to be straddling it — the group that was roped together. It was nearly 1:00 and weather was threatening. We hoped that they could make it down before it started raining. Walking across rain-slick talus was something I would want to avoid at all costs, personally. I later learned from someone formerly associated with the guides that they did not reach the Capitol/Daly saddle until 4:30.

The guides and their roped climbers crossing back over the Knife Edge as seen from our campsite

I felt a few raindrops as my companions and I left camp. It wasn’t until we were past the cattle gate that it really started raining. We sought shelter underneath some trees along the trail past the widest crossing of Capitol Creek. There was no lightning or thunder, so we felt relatively safe doing so. Once the rain slowed, we resumed our trek to the trailhead. The rain continued, albeit lightly, but it was enough to turn the trail to mud and make it very slick in areas. Beyond that, the clouds and rain made for a cool (temperature-wise) return. We didn’t have the pleasure of encountering cows (other than the dead one) along the trail. Many before us have complained about how much of a nuisance they can be. Tired and ready for rest, food, and libations, we reached my truck around 4:00. Our journey was complete!

Capitol Peak was more than an adventure for me — it was a culmination of years of preparation both physically and mentally. Of Colorado’s 58 official and unofficial 14ers — I am at 52. My quest or dream or whatever to summit all of them is nearly complete. For someone who was a fat kid as a child, didn’t participate in a single sport in high school, and was 60 lbs heavier in April 2009 than he is now, it is something that I can take pride in.

GPS stats taken from our hike and climb of Capitol Peak. The numbers don’t reflect our 3-mile round trip to the saddle below Capitol’s North Buttress. Our total mileage would be around 20.48.

Google Earth .KML file of my route (right-click and “save target as” to save the file). NOTE: For some reason, if you’re using Internet Explorer, when you “save target as”, it changes the file extension to .XML. This is incorrect. To be able to view this in Google Earth, change the file extension to .KML before saving the file. It downloads correctly in Firefox.

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