Skyline Trail

Dates of Trip: 9-12 July 2010
Trekkers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada
Trailhead: Maligne Lake
Passes: Little Shovel at 7349 ft, Big Shovel at 7644 ft, The Notch at 8235 ft
Starting Ele: 5545 ft
Ele. Gain: 4526 ft
Distance: 27.4 miles

Why Jasper?  We had earned a pair of vouchers through United's "Denver Deal of the Decade" that provided one, after flying a round trip from Denver in a high-ish fare class, a voucher for a free round trip in L class (fairly low) anywhere in North America, along with two regional upgrades.  We chose to fly our pricey round trip from Denver to Colorado Springs, so it turned out not so pricey.  Then, we started looked for where we could get best value.  Canada seemed like a great place to go - airfare is expensive, and the flights aren't really long enough to earn substantial miles.  We eventually narrowed it down to Banff/Calgary or Edmonton, thinking we'd do some destination hiking in the Canadian Rockies, and since Edmonton boasted $13/day rental cars, YEG was our winner.

We flew into Edmonton after work on Thursday evening.  It was fairly late, but luckily, Edmonton is of sufficient latitude that it stays light quite late in the summer.  We drove out to Edson, a small town about halfway between Edmonton and Jasper, arriving right around midnight, and stayed at the HoJo.

We woke early the next morning to drive the rest of the way into Jasper, arriving in plenty of time to talk to a ranger about bears, trail conditions, and weather.  Note: there is no such thing as a weather forecast up there.  It's completely changeable.  Don't believe anything anyone tells you.  We also stopped for a "final meal" at the Soft Rock Cafe (a pun that took me way too long to get) and tanked up on cold water.  From there we parked the car at the north end of the Skyline Trail, and caught a previously reserved Maligne Lake Shuttle to take us to the southern trailhead at Maligne Lake.

Waiting for the shuttle.

The elevation profile of the route, with all the campgrounds.

At the Maligne Lake trailhead.

We began with a gentle climb up through the forest.  We were beset by mosquitoes almost immediately.  This week, I was unafraid to liberally apply the DEET.  It was hot and buggy, but the scenery was nice.

As we crossed Evelyn Creek and approached the first campground there, Hobo spotted a bear exploring the established tent sites.  They made eye contact, and then the bear decided to bail.  I didn't look up quickly enough - I only saw his rump as he lumbered away.  Hobo couldn't tell whether the bear was a black or a grizzly.  He sort of had the coloring of a grizzly, but as we learned when a bear visited our house last month, blacks can be a whole range of colors from black to brown to blonde.  So I guess we'll never know...

We arrived at Little Shovel, where we had a reservation, around 4pm, and happily set up camp and started to get dinner.  It turned out that one of my homemade dehydrated meals had gone rancid, which I believe was probably a combination of inadequate dehydration and poor storage, and it tasted terrible when we made it.  We reluctantly bagged it up and made another meal, which was still very good, luckily.  In the meantime, while all of the bad-food-ness was going on, the mosquitoes were getting worse and worse, coming out for the evening feeding time.  We ate bundled up in shells, gloves, and mosquito head nets -- and even so, they still get inside your mind and drive you nuts!  We were happy to dive into the tent, read a bit, and then get a good, long night's sleep after a couple of short nights before.  We hiked about 6 miles the first day, to Little Shovel campground.

The view from our campsite at Little Shovel.

Battling the mosquitoes.

We woke up to the patter of rain on the tent.  It stopped for a bit.  Then it started up again.  After three or four cycles of this, we decided we may as well get up and get going.  The forecast for the weekend had been 28-30 degC (i.e. HOT) and sunny every single day.  Yeah, that didn't happen.  It would sprinkle and drizzle on and off all day that day, never really getting above 15 or so.  On the plus side, I prefer cooler and a little damp for hiking - it's much more comfortable than the heat.

Waking up to rain.

And so we struck out for Little Shovel Pass, our first of two passes (or "cols," in the French) for the day.  Very quickly after leaving camp, we broke out above treeline, with great views (in spite of the clouds and fog), into an alpine meadow, where we started to run into families of marmots, who were not at all shy.

Marmot.

Alpine meadows above treeline

Wilted at Little Shovel Pass.

After Little Shovel Pass, the trail descends to a river crossing.  Given that we were still there midway through the snowmelt, plus the fact that it had rained in the night, the river was swollen, and it took a brave leap and some hugging of the bank on the far side to get past.  Very shortly thereafter, we came to the Snowbowl campground where we met some Jasper-ites who we would leapfrog with on the trail several times over the following days.  We stopped there for lunch of whole wheat tortilla wraps with summer sausage and romano cheese.  Food of the gods!

River needs crossed.

Don't fall in the drink!

Intrepid hikers.

After Snowbowl, the trail crosses expansive alpine meadows with some more trival and non-trivial river crossings, before climbing up to Big Shovel Pass.  Somewhere in there, it started to rain in earnest, and it got really miserable for a while.  The north side of Big Shovel Pass was a barren rocky environment with large snowfields remaining.  But it was only a short way thereafter to the turnoff for Curator campground, our stop for the night.  At the turnoff, we could see the Notch - the final and highest pass on the trail - looming up 1000ft in front of us, our conquest for the next day.  And then, rather unfortunately, we turned down the Curator trail, and descended 600 ft or so to the campground.  Have I mentioned how I hate losing elevation?

Big Shovel Pass.

Hikers ahead of us on the rocky/snowy terrain after Big Shovel

Luckily though, Curator redeemed itself with its gorgeousness and lack of mosquitoes.  The camp site is situated amongst cris-crossing streams flowing down from majestic waterfalls and has a lovely view of a gorgeous rock headwall.  The rain lifted, and we had a nice hot dinner and some good conversation with a couple of super-friendly Canadian (is that redundant?) ladies - one from Edmonton and one from Victoria.  We had hiked about 7 miles the second day, from Little Shovel to Curator.

Campsite at Curator

Hobo demonstrates the elaborate camp toilets.

Airlift-able toilet barrels.

Filtering water on our front porch.

Waterfall above Curator.

Bear bag pulley system. 

The next morning, we set out to conquer the Notch.  After huffing it back up to the main trail from Curator and getting appropriately poked about how "the Coloradans should show the rest of us how it's done," we set off up the hill.

Trail junction: The Notch ahead.

The Notch

The Notch definitely isn't trivial - certainly not this early in the season, when there's still a significant snowpack.  It starts out with a climb up some talus - leading to some class 2 moves that are tough with a large pack.  The talus gives way to annoying scree where you slide down a step for every two you take.  And on the final pitch, you ascend up the snowpack, kicking in steps like you're going up a staircase.  We had left our ice axes and crampons in the car based on a proclamation of a couple of trail-finishers there that "the Notch wasn't that bad - I didn't even have poles!"  It would have sucked to carry them, that's for sure, but without ice axes, that snowpack was marginally safe.  It was doable, and not that difficult, but one slip would have ended quite badly.

On the talus.

Hikers ahead approaching the massive cornice.

Refrigerator sized ice chunks in the avalanche debris field.

I spent the final 100 ft or so *not* looking down - not looking anywhere but at the next footprints that I would be stepping in, and after repeating my mantra ("Every step I take is another step closer to the top.") I made it onto the saddle.  We couldn't resist dropping our packs and running up one of the two peaks flanking the Notch.  It was wicked windy, but there were spectacular views of the surrounding peaks and the Jasper NP ranges further off as well. We continued to thoroughly enjoy the view as we continued on the trail - the next section was a beautiful ridge walk near the same elevation as the top of the Notch.

Up the staircase, kicking steps.

Coming up past the cornice.

Cool tower from the peak above the Notch.

On the Notch.

Mt. Edith Cavell.  Signature Jasper.

On the ridge looking towards Mt. Tekarra.

At the end of the ridge, we began to drop down into the basin, and it started to sprinkle again.  We had reservations that final night at the Signal campground, 5 miles from the trail end (and the car), but we had been kicking around the possibility of just walking out that last 5 miles - which would make the third day a 14-miler.  But if we did walk all the way out, we could camp in the frontcountry and then take a drive down Icefields Parkway.  After finishing the Notch we felt really good, so the end seemed in sight.  After the next 6.5 miles down into the basin to Tekarra campground in the rain, the feet were sore and the spirits were dampened.  We sat for a bit and ate some lunch, and rested our feet.  The rain stopped.  We felt better.  We decided to press on to Signal, only 3 more miles away, and make a decision to continue or not then.

Taunting happy fun snow bridge.

Dropping into the basin.

How to cross a river in three steps:

1. Throw pack over first.

2.  Take flying leap.

3. Raise arms and become pleased with self.

The trail from Tekarra to Signal crossed the widest river yet (where I put my boot in the drink twice), and then up onto a small ridge again.  It actually went over one more small, unnamed pass, and then opened up to views of the gorgeous ranges that flank Jasper-town.

Crossing the river. Too wide to jump it.

Looking down into the Jasper valley.

Filtering with a view.

Once the trail joined up with the Signal fire road and we reached the campground, we started to smell the end of the trail.  Our feet were killing us, but we motored down the last five miles.  I sang to distract myself and to give a rhythm for my steps.

On the fire road, we met up with a mama grouse and her little chickies.  The chicks were all pecking along the roadside.  When mama grouse spotted us, she softly called to the chicks, who then gathered underneath her, and she sat and covered them, protecting them from us.  She watched us suspiciously until we passed.  It was sooooo cool.

Mama grouse.

Chickies!

Eyeing us suspiciously.

It seemed like forever, but we reached the car just after 6:30pm.  We threw our gear in the trunk and limped around stretching before driving back to town.  On the way, we drove through a torrential downpour, which apparently narrowly missed us on the trail.  The rain produced an incredible full rainbow with a near full double.  Though we appreciated the beauty, we did not freak out and become internet sensations.

Aaaand we're done.

We celebrated with pizza at Jasper Pizza, our aching legs propped up in the booth on the benches.  We then drove down to Jonas Creek and pitched our tent, and got an early start (it didn't get dark until about midnight, and started to get light around 4am) the next morning.  We drank in the beauty of Jasper and Banff, including the stunning Columbia Icefields, then enjoyed a quiet drive back to Edmonton via Calgary.

The backside of the Notch, viewed from the road.

Glaciers at Columbia Icefields.

Glaciers at Columbia Icefields.

A fun little coda: our checked luggage was mistakenly sent to the regular baggage scan instead of the oversized baggage scan.  Because of this, YEG security had to do a hand check of the baggage... which meant taking everything out.  And I do mean everything: the tent, the sleeping pads, the three day old smelly trail clothes, the romano cheese that had been unrefrigerated for days...  it was embarrassing and annoying and amusing all at once.  In the end, though, I have to say that the security people handled the situation professionally, sensitively, and with an impressive amount of common sense.

We arrived home in Denver on time and exhausted - the best way.

Mt. Silverheels and Little Baldy

Dates of Trip: 3-4 July 2010
Climbers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Mosquito Range, CO, USA
Trailhead: Gold Dust
Summit Objectives: Mt. Silverheels and Little Baldy
Summits: Little Baldy at 12142 ft, Mt. Silverheels at 13882 ft
Starting Ele: 10330 ft
Ele. Gain: 4500 ft
Distance: 12.6 mile

We were planning to head to Jasper for a 3 night backpack of the Skyline Trail on 8 July.  Problem was, we hadn't packed into anything in quite some time.  So we decided to take a shakedown trip over the holiday weekend, and bag some summits we'd been meaning to get, besides.  (Silverheels has been on our list for a loooong time, since we met.)

So on the morning of July 3rd, just as it was starting to get hot at the lower elevations, we headed up past Como to the Gold Dust Trailhead.  We had opted for winter mountaineering pants, anticipating snow and cold temperatures at elevation... but this turned out to be a poor choice.  It was HOT.  Ah well, this is the reason you do a shakedown trip, right?

HOT.

We packed in about two miles to the saddle between Little Baldy and Silverheels and set up camp in a small stand of trees on the breezy saddle at approximately 11,200ft.  That done, and a lunch of beef jerky had, and we were ready to tackle Little Baldy.  This involved a scamper through the shadowy, mosquito-y forest that covered the base of the mountain, and then seemingly straight up the side to the summit.  All of the elevation gain in about a half a mile (this turned out to be excellent training for The Notch on the Skyline Trail the following weekend).  The summit was a rocky pile of talus, and we sat in the wind and surveyed Como and Fairplay.

Summit photo.  Where we lost the cap to the Nalgene, may it rest in peace

Before too long, dayhikers were coming up the standard route in their jeans and sneakers, so we skedaddled down the steep slope and ran the mosquito gauntlet back to camp.

Sleeping at 11,200 went much much better this week than sleeping at 12,000 ft had the previous week.  This was likely a combination of factors.  (1) We had attempted to sleep at 12,000ft the previous week.  (2) We had obeyed the "climb high, sleep low" adage.  (3) We had worked hard that day, instead of just driving up from our desk jobs.  We slept like logs.

We got an early start (with the sunrise) up the East Ridge of Mt. Silverheels, a gorgeous class 1 walk up with spectacular views.  We ran into 3 mountain goats on the way up, who sort of looked like they were going to approach us.  I said, "I know how to deal with bears and mountain lions... but how does one fend off a goat?!"  Luckily (?) they kept their distance.

Skeleton trees and the Silverheels summit

Goats

From the broad, beautiful Silverheels summit, we had spectacular views of Hoosier Ridge, and many of our favorite Front Range, Mosquito Range, and Ten Mile Range summits, which are too numerous to list here.  It was a superbly clear day, and we could see to the southern Sawatch range, and on Independence Day, we had a patriotic view of Pike's Peak (the inspiration for "purple mountain majesty" in America the Beautiful).  We enjoyed a long 20 minute stay on the summit (long by our standards - it's usually freezing), signed the summit register, and descended to the saddle.  We packed up camp and hiked out, feeling thoroughly ready for Skyline and Jasper.  Bring it on.

Signing the summit register.

"For purple mountain majesty..."

Mt. Sheridan and Peerless Mountain

Dates of Trip: 19-20 June 2010
Climbers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Mosquito Range, CO, USA
Trailhead: Horseshoe Basin
Summit Objectives: Horseshoe Mtn, with options on Sheridan, Peerless, and Finnback Knob
Summits: Mt. Sheridan at 13748 ft, Peerless Mountain at 13348 ft
Starting Ele: ~12000 ft
Ele. Gain: ~2500 ft
Distance: ~4.0 mile

We originally set out to ascend the Boudoir Couloir on Horseshoe Mtn in a "moderate" snow climb. This was one of the last weekends that it was expected to be available, as the snow would likely be melting out for the summer. Indeed, when we got into Horseshoe Basin, snow in the couloir was a very thin line, the temperature was warm, and as this was our first climb in quite sometime, we decided it wasn't the best idea to make an attempt on that particular route.

We were able to get the jeep all the way up into Horseshoe Basin at 12000 ft by four-wheeling it up the old mine access roads, This involved a couple sketchy, bouldery uphills, and several splashes through very large puddles of standing water in the road. It was a gorgeously scenic place to camp, and we were excited to be trying out our new winter mountaineering tent. The scene looked like an REI ad, or a Jeep ad, or both.

Boudoir Couloir is visible just above the right side of the tent.

Unfortunately, even with our acclimitization to 7200ft (at our house), driving straight up to 12000ft after not having been up so long was problematic.  We both had a really rough night of very little sleep and altitude sickness symptoms.  When the alarm went off at 4am, I was like, "Thank God!  I don't have to try to sleep anymore!"

We were feeling pretty nasty, which cemented our decision to forgo the Boudoir, but it is a well known fact that bad mornings on a mountain can turn into good days, so we began trudging up the mine roads towards the Horseshoe/Peerless saddle, figuring we'd decide which peaks to go for when we gained the ridge.  By the time we got there, we felt much better, so we chose to begin with the long hike (over Peerless to Sheridan), and either grab Horseshoe at the end or save it for when we could climb the couloir.

Tortoise, on the ridge, approaching Peerless

Peerless is pretty much just a bump on the ridge between Horseshoe and Sheridan, but it was a fun way to start any thing.  We hadn't stood on top of something in quite a while and the sense of accomplishment was strong.

Peerless Summit

From there, it was very easy to be enthusiastic about the beautiful day, and the prospect of bagging a bicentennial 13er.  So we tromped on over across the ridge and up the steep side of Sheridan, with great views of Sherman (where apparently there was a rousing cornhole game going on), Silverheels (which we would climb two weeks later), and Dyer (our first mountain together).

Sheridan Summit

Satisfied with the success of a short hike-and-summit to break us into the summer climbing season, and indeed back into climbing in general, we headed back down to the Jeep and home.  A celebratory stop at the Dinky Dairy in Fairplay was thoroughly enjoyed.

Hoosier Ridge

Dates of Trip: 17 January 2010
Climbers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Front Range, CO, USA
Trailhead: Hoosier Pass

It was the first climb of the year and we were both fairly out of shape. We decided to head out for Hoosier Ridge (part of the Continental Divide), with the objective of hiking as far along it as we felt like it. We had a secondary objective of the Hoosier Ridge "summit" -- the highest bump along it, not really it's own peak.

The day began overcast with very light snow cutting visibility just a bit. The temperature was very nice though, in the high 20's, low 30s. We elected not to carry snowshoes. This was a good decision, as most of our route was either packed, ice-crusted, or windblown. We only had one annoying patch of postholing through some willows, which we corrected on the way down by following the actual trail through the trees (note for future: stay *right* at arrow that points left). As we hiked along the sun fought very hard to burn through the clouds and finally graced us with gorgeous views of the Ten Mile Range, and many past conquests: Quandary, North Star, Clinton, Traver, and McNamee, Fletcher, Helen, and Lincoln.

Deciding to quit while we were still having fun, we turned around at the bump 2.25 miles (crow flies) from the pass, still 1.5 miles (crow flies) from the "summit." We located the turn off to go up the backside of Silverheels (the avy-safe way), and maybe we'll get back to do it from that direction. We also found some great winter camping sites near treeline. I have the feeling we'll be back.

Attempt on Rito Alto

Dates of Trip: 12-14 November 2009
Climbers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Sangre de Cristo Range, CO, USA
Trailhead: Hermit Pass
Summit Objectives: Rito Alto

We took advantage of hobo's flying into Colorado Springs on Thursday, and the Air Force home football game on Saturday to sandwich in a drive down to the Sangres for some winter camping practice and a bit of hiking. We had both been sick with colds during the previous week, so we weren't sure how hard core the "hiking" part would be.

Our objective was to drive as far up Hermit Road, west of Westcliffe, as possible, as the jeep road theoretically goes all the way up to Hermit Pass at ~13000'. We made it to just above 9800' before the road was too slick up a steep hill (with a bit of a double fall line) to safely continue in the jeep. So we set up camp on a flat bit of snow, next to the lovely river that runs down from Hermit Lake. The night temperature was a very comfortable 36-ish degrees.

We got a good start up the jeep road in the morning, able to walk on top of the packed snow in the snowmobile tracks that covered the road. I insisted we carry my snowshoes (based on experience from Clinton/Traver/McNamee), but hobo didn't want his, so we only carried the one pair. This came in handy when we reached the spot where the snowmobiles has all turned around at the Hermit Lake Trail junction around 11,200', and soft, post-holey snow awaited us until above treeline (and even after that, in spots).

As we came to treeline at 11,800', the wind really started gusting, so we stopped at a rock-cliff shelter to gear up with long johns, balaclavas, gaiters, and goggles. As soon as we stepped out from treeline, the wind was gusting fiercely, and it only got worse as we went higher. We left the road to push straight up the hill and skip a switchback to shave off some distance, but by the time we reached 12,300', the wind had us all but stopped. It was gusting so hard that it was pushing me over. I couldn't walk when the wind was blowing, and in order to stay on my feet I had to plant my poles and duck low into the wind. We estimated that the wind was gusting up to 80 mph or so.

When the wind wasn't blowing, it was a very pleasant day! So we tried for awhile to duck and rest with the gusts and walk when it was calm. This made for really slow going as the gusts got more frequent and the calm got shorter. Since already like trying to push a brick wall up the hill, and we still had 1500' left to go (assuming the wind would only get worse [?!?] as we got higher), we decided to consider ourselves denied the summit, and enjoyed the hike down the hill and back to camp.

Back in camp, we grilled up an amazing steak dinner, and as we did, the snow started to fall. We climbed into the jeep to eat and tuned hobo's radar detector weather radio to the National Weather Service to try and determine if we should stay the night as planned, or hightail it down the hill to avoid getting snowed in. Luckily the snow accumulation for Friday evening was forecasted to be minimal, so we chose to stay. We awoke to a winter wonderland, our tent drifted into 2 inches of dry Colorado snow. The jeep put first tracks down the only slightly sketchy road in the morning, back to civilization.

The snowstorm would actually hit in full force during the football game, and the sketchiest part of the whole expedition turned out to be driving back to Denver from the Springs on I-25 at 35 mph with about 20 feet of visibility. :oP

Attempt on Clinton/Traver/McNamee

Dates of Trip: 16 October 2009
Climbers: hobo and tortoise
Location: Ten Mile Range, CO, USA
Trailhead: Wheeler Lake
Summit Objectives: Clinton, Traver, and McNamee

The trail from Montgomery Reservoir to Wheeler Lake is pretty long and relatively flat. Once you get up to the lake at 12,100', the "trail" turns sharply uphill. This would have been a workout, but not a problem, if we hadn't slogged through some moderate snow up to the lake, and then floundered through thigh-deep snow up the hill. By the time we reached the basin below the peaks at 12,500 or so, we were exhausted, wet, and perplexingly running short on daylight. Conservatively, we chose to turn back. It's possible that snowshoes would have made some difference, but it's also possible that we just plain old didn't get an early enough start.

Still, it was a beautiful day to be out in the mountains, getting some fresh air, and playing in the snow, and a good welcome to the winter climbing season.