Altering the path on a road trip to somewhere

The scene that stopped me cold: A lone windmill in the path of a summer storm near Clayton, N.M.

I’ve long felt that part of any road trip needs to be the flexibility to deviate from your plan when something cool comes along. On this last trip, I regretted not stopping at a weird looking display inspired by UFO culture in the middle of southern Colorado. I might not be back that way anytime soon, and seeing something that unusual is what travel memories are made of.

But I did make one stop on a whim because something was happening in front of me that contained all the visuals for an indelible recollection. Maybe a half hour west of Clayton, New Mexico, I was heading west and toward a sizable line of afternoon thunderstorms spreading over the expanse of the high plains. I was on a particularly lonely two-lane highway that didn’t look to be leading anywhere.

As the storms built ahead, the sun was still trying to peek though, lighting up the scrub brush and sage that carpeted seemingly endless rolling hills that bunched up between ancient volcanic formations to the north and the mightier Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the west, which at that time were getting pounded by heavy sheets of rain.

And then I saw it, off to the right: A lone windmill, its fan spinning at a healthy clip, not far from what looked like the ruins of an old farm house.

My right foot let off the gas, I checked my rearview mirrors for traffic (there was none) and I pulled over fast.

Out came the camera as I photographed the windmill, its slender form jutting up into a backdrop of an increasingly turbulent sky, one that promised to unload at any minute but was holding off for now. Graffiti marked the mostly roofless homestead; apparently this was a good place to pull off, drink or get high, and make a mark. In the background, sunbeams still pierced the clouds, lighting up chunks of the land while in other places, curtains of rain swept through.

This being a solo trip, I was fortunate that I didn’t have to bother anyone by making this abrupt stop. I spent about 15 minutes documenting the scene, and I kept telling myself how lucky I was to have stumbled into it. I love taking a good pic, and that place at that moment provided it.

And it also reinforced something in me. I’ve long said how much I love New Mexico. It has all the charms of Colorado, but it adds its own spice, namely those vast, empty spaces with brilliant, wide open skies – a vastness into which you can empty your soul. And while this scene didn’t have that brilliant high country blue, the skies gave me something else that was equally magical, even if a bit threatening.

Ten minutes after I left, I fought through a hellacious squall that turned everything outside my windshield into a thick, gray soup. Storms move, and I was moving, too, and thus the magical pre-storm tapestry in which I reveled passed.

Travel is often framed by stories of interesting people, novel foods and lessons in culture you can’t get from the couch. I love all of that.

But sometimes travel is a moment, and you best not miss it. Such is the nature of the ephemeral: Pay attention now or you’ll lose it forever.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s Mount of the Holy Cross via the north ridge

Mount of the Holy Cross.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only!

One of the more memorable and scenic summit hikes I’ve ever done is the northernmost of the Sawatch Range 14ers, Mount of the Holy Cross.

The mountain is steeped in history, as it became a goal for people to see it because of its namesake couloir, a thin, snow-filled and cross-shaped gash in the mountain’s rugged, dark face. For Americans seeking to find peace in nature and embark on a bit of a spiritual pilgrimage, Mount of the Holy Cross was a major destination in Colorado’s early history.

This is a remote peak, so getting there takes some doing. But the trailhead campsites at Half Moon Pass are accessible by car. So you get the best of both worlds: easy access, but a wilderness experience.

Be warned: while the peak’s standard route on its north ridge is a hike, it’s a taxing day.

Via the Half Moon Pass trailhead, hike generally south on an excellent trail up the pass. You will gain about 1,000 feet in elevation until the reach to the top of the pass.

Going up Half Moon Pass. It’s good trail, gaining about 1,000 feet of elevation from the trailhead.

As you start down and go south, Mount of the Holy Cross will finally come into view, and it’s a stunner.

Now over the pass, you get this sunrise view of Mount of the Holy Cross. (Bill Wood photo)

Continue hiking down to East Cross Creek. There are lots of campsites here, all of the wild variety. If you choose to camp here, you’ll have to abide by wilderness rules. If you continue, cross the creek, then start up a steeper but excellent trail up the north ridge.

Once above treeline, the route becomes rockier, but a system of tall cairns will direct your path. At this point, the trail becomes Class 2.

Gaining the ridge, watch for the cairns. This shows one on the way down off the mountain.

Climb up to the shoulder of the ridge to where it levels off just before you hit the summit ridge. You’ll head east up a boulder-strewn slope, and it this point, you’ll be picking your own way up to the summit.

Summit view. It’s one heck of a scene.

Round trip route length is about 12 miles, with a total elevation gain of 5,600 feet. Exposure isn’t too bad, but because of the route length – and the fact that you’ll have to regain that 1,000 feet back up to Half Moon Pass, be sure you’re packed for enough to sustain you. It’s also not a bad idea to have a water filter if you need to replenish at East Cross Creek.

East Cross Creek is a great place to filter water before starting the last bit of hiking to the trailhead.

Something to remember: Once your get off the mountain and past the creek, you still have 1,000 feet of elevation back over Half Moon Pass in front of you. Budget time to tackle this last piece of work.

Last note: A few years back, the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative installed some sizable cairns along the upper portion of the route to help hikers stay on route. Staying on the route is key here, because if you descend the ridge on the wrong side, it’s easy to get lost. More than a few hikers have gotten lost in the Holy Cross Wilderness and were never found, or did not survive the experience.

Want to read the original trip report? See it here.

Bob Doucette

Climbing Colorado’s Wetterhorn Peak

Wetterhorn Peak, as seen from nearby Matterhorn Peak.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only!

I’ve mentioned in numerous writings that the San Juan Mountains are my favorite range. There are mellow hikes, but also vertical climbs that can test your nerves.

Although my experience is more limited than some, I’ll say that my favorite mountain in the San Juans – or anywhere, for that matter – is Wetterhorn Peak.

Wetterhorn (14,015 feet) offers the best of all worlds when it comes to peak-bagging. It’s easily accessible from Lake City, it has a reasonable route length and offers a combination of pleasant alpine hiking, solid climbing on steeper pitches, and at-times dizzying exposure that can spook some, but is fairly manageable.

And unlike a lot of San Juan peaks, Wetterhorn offers stable rock throughout the climb. Add this to the gorgeous profile of the mountain and its impeccable summit views and you have probably the most bang for your buck in terms of Colorado alpine adventure. Let’s get on with the route description.

At the trailhead, with a good view of Matterhorn Peak. But that’s not the target here.

Hike a good trail up Matterhorn Creek Basin until your reach your first sign at 0.75 mile. At that junction, go right.

The sign is a little confusing. But at this junction, go right.

Continue up the trail to the next junction, then go left. The trail will take you toward the base of Wetterhorn’s southeast ridge. At the base of that ridge, hike northeast through a yellow dirt section before the trail gives way to rockier terrain.

Go left at this trail junction.

Hike over rockier terrain on the way to Wetterhorn’s southeast ridge. The peak is shown here in the background.

Getting closer to the peak.

From here, you gain the southeast ridge, and the yellow dirt section of the route. It’s still easier hiking at this point, but that will soon change.

Climb the rocky gullies leading up to a prominent rock formation called the Prow. Note: If there is snow present in these gullies, they become trickier to traverse. As is the case on most mountains, bring foot traction and an ice axe if you think snow and ice will be on the mountain. You’re entering Class 3 scrambling/climbing here, and the runouts on some of these gullies end in a sizable cliff face below.

Rockier, class 2 hiking here. The mountain gets more rugged from here on.

Class 3 scrambling over and up some rocky gullies. Snow in the gullies will make things trickier.

When you reach the Prow, there is a notch to the right; go over the notch and work your way down to an angled rock slab ramp that goes down to the base of the final pitch. The exposure to your left is significant, but the rock is solid and if you stay close to the wall to your right you shouldn’t have any problems.

Once you’ve cleared the gullies, hike up this slope to a notch to the right of the Prow (seen to the left).

Once you reach the bottom of the ramp, the final pitch is before you. Climb up solid rock until you reach one last ledge. From here, you have two choices. Turn left and walk along a narrow, exposed ledge before going up easy Class 3 climbing to the summit. If you don’t want to walk the ledge, just keep climbing straight up on steep but solid rock until you reach the top. The summit pitch is stable, and handholds/footholds are plentiful.

At the bottom of the ramp past the notch, the climbing of the final pitch is all that’s left. It’s about a 100-foot climb to the top.

Looking up at the summit pitch. Lots of stable handholds and footholds here.

Looking down the pitch from near the summit.

On this look down, you get a clear view of the Prow and the ramp below.

A look at the ledges, about halfway up the summit pitch. Walking these ledges is completely optional.

From there, you’ll reach a flat summit that will give you some room to stretch out and enjoy views of Matterhorn Peak, Uncompahgre Peak, and the many 13ers of the Cimarrons to the north.

Summit view of Matterhorn Peak (foreground) and Uncompahgre Peak.

Hiking is Class 1 until you get past the yellow dirt, where it turns into Class 2. Climbing can get steep, but the handholds and footholds are solid and do not exceed Class 3. Route length is 7 miles with 3,300 feet of vertical gain. Note: You’ll need to bring your own water supply, as Matterhorn Creek and many of the waterways that feed it are spoiled by mine tailings and are not suitable for drinking or filtering. There are dispersed campsites along the road all the way to the trailhead.

GETTING THERE: In Lake City, take Second Street to Henson Creek Road and turn left. This is also called the Alpine Loop Scenic Byway. Drive 11 miles to the Matterhorn Creek trail road, turn right. If you have a car with good clearance and preferably four-wheel drive, go 0.7 miles to the trailhead.

Want to read the original trip report? You can see it here. And be sure to watch the video at the end.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s Uncompahgre Peak

Uncompahgre Peak, as seen from the slopes of neighboring Matterhorn Peak.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only!

The San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado make up some of the wildest and most scenic alpine landscapes in the United States, holding everything from gently sloping mountains to jagged, forbidding peaks. Formed by geologic uplift, volcanic activity and glacial carving, the San Juans are nothing if not dramatic.

Uncompahgre Peak, as seen from near the trailhead.

On the northeastern part of the range is Uncompahgre Peak (14,309 feet), the highest in the San Juans and easily recognizable from its sweeping south ridge all the way to its near-shear north face.

Hiking Uncompahgre Peak is a great way to introduce yourself to this range, as it has most of the tell-tale features common to the area, and is reasonably accessible provided you have a decent four-wheel-drive car or truck that can manage the drive to the trailhead. The hike itself is straightforward on an excellent trail, with a short bit of scrambling to do just below the summit.

From the 4WD trailhead, follow the well-established trail through the trees until you break through treeline. The trail will snake generally west toward the mountain, turn south, then gain the south slopes.

Mellower trails in the middle of the route. The trails are easy to follow most of the way up.

Near 13,000 feet, hiking toward the mountain’s summit pitch. Good trail here.

Again, the trail is well-established, going at an easy incline north toward the summit. The trail begins to steepen just past 13,300 feet.

Just below the summit plateau, follow a series of steeper switchbacks to the west side of the mountain. At 13,700 feet, they will lead you to a series of gullies that are steeper and rockier. A rock tower will mark the spot where you can pick a gully to continue up. The gullies are filled with loose rock. This area is Class 2+, with some scrambling needed to ascend.

After a short series of switchbacks, the trail will take you here. Hike toward the rock tower in the middle of the photo to gain access to gullies that will take you into the upper part of the route.

A gully leading to the final portion of the hike. Some care is needed here, as loose rock abounds. But this part of the climb shouldn’t exceed difficult Class 2 scrambling.

Once you exit the gullies, the trail reforms toward the summit plateau. Follow this to the top and enjoy the views from Uncompahgre’s sizable summit.

Looking down Uncompahgre’s sheer north face. That’s a long way down.

Summit view to the northwest.

The route is about 7.25 miles round-trip from the 4WD trailhead, but if you hike it in one day from the 2WD trailhead, it’s more than 15 miles.

The classic Uncompahgre summit pic.

The proper route has relatively mild exposure, but if you do any rock hopping around the north side of the summit be careful because it’s a long way down. Uncompahgre is known for its big, sheer drop-offs, but all are easily avoided.

Word of caution: Nellie Creek Road, which leads to the 4WD trailhead, is rough. A high-clearance vehicle is recommended. Once at the trailhead, there are good campsites and an outhouse.

Want to read the original trip report? Check it out here.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s Mount Belford

Mount Belford.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only! Thanks to Rick Ponder for supplying some of the photos you see here.

One of the more welcoming alpine scenes in Colorado can be found just west of the Arkansas River Valley in the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness. In here you’ll find a good number of high peaks, including a bunch of the state’s coveted 14,000-foot summits.

Most of these summit hikes are long, and with plenty of vertical gain to boot. In some cases, the going can get steep. But all of the Sawatch Range 14ers, which includes the Collegiates, are hikes that do not require climbing gear. A strong pair of legs and lungs and a stout heart are all that’s required, aside from standard hiking gear and a watchful eye on the weather.

Among the more accessible of these peaks is Mount Belford, one of three 14ers of Missouri Gulch Basin. Of the three, Belford (14,197 feet) has the shortest route length, and I suppose in terms of effort, is the easiest of the three to get. But don’t underestimate Belford. It’ll test your fitness. Anyway, let’s get to it.

The trailhead can be accessed by a roadside pullout and parking lot off Chaffee County Road 390. It’s a good dirt road that any passenger car can travel, so no worries about four-wheel drive or clearance.

The switchbacks going up Missouri Gulch.

From the trailhead, hike across a bridge and about a quarter-mile, where you will reach a series of steep switchbacks. The incline relents slightly as you continue hiking through the woods. Near 10,800 feet you will reach two creek crossings. Near 11,000 feet you will reach a more level area where the remains of an old trapper’s cabin sit. This is a good spot to take a breather or, if you’re backpacking, to set up camp. The creek that runs through the area is a good place to filter water if needed.

Check out that water source, just past the old trapper’s cabin.

Your first trail junction. Left to Mount Belford, right to Missouri Mountain. Go left.

Leaving the trees at 11,300 feet, the trail continues uphill through a large patch of willows. Here you will reach a split in the trail; going left will take you toward Mount Belford, while heading right sends you toward Missouri Mountain. Go left.

Hiking the switchbacks up Mount Belford.

The steepness of the hiking eases as you approach Belford. But as your reach its northwest ridge, things get steep again as you tackle a series of switchbacks going up the flanks of the mountain. The trail is solid and easy to follow.

Summit view from Mount Belford.

Eventually the route eases as you near the summit. Continue to follow the trail to a point where it flattens out near the top. The final few hundred yards are over 14,000 feet and are fairly level hiking.

Summit if Belford, with Mount Oxford in the background.

The route is 8 miles round trip and is considered Class 2 hiking with low exposure. Total vertical gain is 4,500 feet. From Belford’s summit you can see Missouri Mountain to the south and Mount Oxford to the east. Oxford can be reached via a connecting ridge from Belford, but this will add another three miles and 1,000 feet of vert to your day.

Want to read the original trip report? Check out this link.

Bob Doucette

In the middle of national trauma, some signs of hope

At the end of May, everything we were doing came to a screeching halt. Again.

I remember earlier this year I spent a good amount of time writing about weight training, just in time for people’s New Year’s resolutions, and then the coronavirus made all those gym-centric posts sorta moot. You might as well be shouting at the wind when you’re talking about training programs and specific exercises that people can’t do because their gyms are shuttered.

So I figured I’d try to write about life during the pandemic. Trying to be relatable, to be real, to give an anecdote about what has to be one of the weirdest periods of my life, limited though my days have been. And I suppose that was fine for a bit, but really, my experiences aren’t that much different than anyone else’s, and no one wants to hear yet one more voice among the millions droning on about how different, how disrupted, and how depressing a lockdown could be. We’re all poorer, more bored and more homebound than we used to be. Wash, rinse, repeat.

One thing I saw is people liked looking back on past travels to beautiful places, and that seemed like a good outlet for this space. Useful information, pretty pics and maybe thoughts of seeing some of the amazing places I’ve seen looked all the more desirable when we were unsure when we’d be able to hit the road for an adventure again.

And then, another disruption. A seismic disruption that knocked us out of our newfound routines and comforts yet again.

When video surfaced of a Minneapolis police officer squashing the life out of George Floyd, the nation began to shudder, then quake, then erupt in a pent-up rage that has been years in the making. The roots of it all go much further back, but in more modern times, cellphone cameras have given us access to too many scenes like that in Minneapolis. Racial injustice wasn’t just back in the front of the news cycle. It became just as big as the pandemic.

As much as I wanted to keep publishing posts about mountain adventures, I couldn’t. In the span of weeks we’ve seen cases like Floyd’s pile up around us and pretending that this will all blow over and that things will go back to “normal” seemed wrong. Not seemed wrong. It was wrong. Too many people are hurting right now for us to carry on like it’s no big deal, or someone else’s problem. But the truth is, that’s exactly how these scenarios have played out all my life. Racial inequity and injustice comes front-and-center until society decides it’s had enough, that it’s tired, and would rather fixate on something happy instead. And nothing gets done.

But to be frank, something feels different right now. That maybe we might actually address this national blight.

Back in 2014, just a couple of years after Trayvon Martin was gunned down, Ferguson, Mo., erupted into protests and yes, some violence in response to a police officer gunning down an unarmed Michael Brown. The Black Lives Matter movement was born in these days. Reforms came to Ferguson, but in the nation as a whole, a stalemate ensued. On one side were those strongly advocating national change. On another, a small but very vocal group discounting the entire movement. And in the middle, a large and silent majority that may have had strong feelings about the problems uncovered in Ferguson, but didn’t want the hassle of arguments and hurt feelings that often accompany contentious discussions about race in America.

It’s that silent middle, unfortunately, that allows this shit to persist.

But I see something different this time. Yes, there are the vocal advocates for justice out in front. And yes, there is that small but very loud contingency trying to discount, dismiss and obfuscate the debate at every turn.

But that big, silent middle isn’t so silent anymore. Marches in my city back in 2014 numbered a couple hundred. This time? Some were in the thousands. Participants came from all walks of life. All races, too. Hell, even Mitt Romney — the whitest dude you can think of — marched in a Black Lives Matter protest, and heavily attended marches took place in small cities and even rural towns that wouldn’t have touched this debate just a few years ago. People posting on social media with the #BlackLivesMatter hastag weren’t just people of color. In my sliver of the world, I saw people who were dead quiet after Ferguson sudddenly weren’t just tacitly supportive. They were vocal. Often. And those younger generations — the Millennials and Gen Z — a bunch of them aren’t having it anymore. Most people who look like me either actively or passively shunned Black Lives Matter messaging a few years ago. But these days, a big chunk of them are embracing it. It’s as if the scales have fallen from their eyes. They get it.

In my hometown of Tulsa, one bone of contention has been the city’s participation in the TV program “LivePD.” It’s a lot like the long-running show “Cops,” which is entertaining to many viewers, but seen as exploitative by many others in minority communities. The city has resisted calls to cease participating in the program, but following these big demonstrations, city leaders agreed to dump the program. Not long after, “LivePD” was canceled altogether. And so was “Cops.”

These are small wins, with much bigger prizes (police reform, ending of redlining, sentencing reform, and so many other huge, lingering issues) still to be won, and still badly needed. But one thing that’s important is tough, honest and fruitful conversations are being had. People are now trying to understand what our friends and neighbors in the black and brown communities have been telling us for decades. Among many, the defensiveness is being lowered and honest attempts to learn and change are being undertaken. And a bunch of folks are beginning to understand how hard this process is.

So part of me is devastated by what happened to George Floyd. And Ahmaud Arbery. And Breonna Taylor. And Tamir Rice, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, Emmett Till, and so many others.

But part of me is strangely optimistic. It feels different this time. And I hope I’m right, that people’s attitudes are changing, that people are willing to learn, to empathize, and to find out how they can help resolve the longest-running sin that burdens our nation.

There will be time to write about outdoor adventure, running, training or whatever. There always is. But even the things that are hardwired in us need to be paused to take in and act on what’s important. Human beings have worth, something that’s enshrined in this country’s founding documents. But those revered words of old aren’t worth the paper they’re written on unless they apply to everyone, and for far too long, that hasn’t been true.

Maybe now we’re taking steps toward that goal once again. It’s a big mountain to climb, and there’s no shortcuts to the top. But in the end, that summit view, should we get there, will be worth the exertion.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s Missouri Mountain

Missouri Mountain, as seen from Missouri Gulch.

Note: This is the next in a series of trip reports focusing on route descriptions rather than storytelling. Photos and beta only!

Colorado’s Collegiate Peaks Wilderness contains some of the state’s prime alpine scenery while at the same time delivering accessible adventure to anyone with a good set of lungs, a strong set of legs and a stout heart. The mountains here are not known for their technical challenges, but they do have a reputation for having lengthy routes and beefy elevation profiles. The mountains of the Sawatch Range, of which the Collegiates are a part, aren’t walk in the park.

One of my favorite areas of the Collegiates is Missouri Gulch. Three 14ers and more than a few 13ers are accessible from the gulch. Of the ones I’ve done, Missouri Mountain (14,067 feet) is a favorite.

The gulch leads to a large U-shaped basin. On its western flank is a ridge with three unnamed 13,000-foot points. To the east is Mount Belford (14,197 feet) and Peck’s Peak (13,270 feet). The closed end of the amphitheater is a tapered ridge whose high point is the summit of Missouri Mountain.

Missouri Mountain is a hike, with one brief scrambling section near the summit. The route starts steep, mellows for awhile in the basin, then steepens again as you gain the peak’s northwest ridge. Once that ridge is tackled, the summit ridge is a pleasant hike to the top, with that one crux area to negotiate. From the top, you get an excellent view of the entire basin as well as a panorama of the rest of the Collegiates. It’s pretty mind-blowing. Anyway, let’s get to the route description.

The switchbacks going up Missouri Gulch.

From the trailhead, hike across a bridge and about a quarter-mile, where you will reach a series of steep switchbacks. The incline relents slightly as you continue hiking through the woods. Near 10,800 feet you will reach two creek crossings. Near 11,000 feet you will reach a more level area where the remains of an old trapper’s cabin sit. This is a good spot to take a breather or, if you’re backpacking, to set up camp. The creek that runs through the area is a good place to filter water if needed.

In Missouri Gulch Basin, just above treeline, looking back.

Leaving the trees at 11,300 feet, the trail continues uphill through a large patch of willows. Here you will reach a split in the trail; going left will take you up to Mount Belford, while heading right keeps you on track to Missouri Mountain.

Your first trail junction. Left to Mount Belford, right to Missouri Mountain. Go right.

Continue up a hill just below 13,000 feet where you’ll reach another fork in the trail. Left takes you to Elkhead Pass (this can also take you to Belford’s summit), right takes you to Missouri Mountain’s northwest slopes.

Easier hiking in the basin.

Your second trail junction. Left takes you to Elkhead Pass, right goes to Missouri’s northwest ridge. Go right.

The trail will lead you to a series of steep and at times rocky switchbacks. A few sections of this part of the route have moderate exposure.

Starting up the ridge. The hiking gets steeper here.

More from lower on the ridge.

Higher on the ridge, looking toward Mount Belford.

Around 13,700 feet you will gain Missouri’s ridge, and the hiking will ease. Continue following the trail east toward the summit. There will be moderate exposure to your left.

On the summit ridge. The hiking eases here, but another obstacle remains.

More from along the summit ridge. Near here is a notch that will require some brief scrambling.

Just shy of 14,000 feet you’ll reach a notch that drops about 30 feet. This requires a more careful descent on rocky and sandy ground, but is not quite Class 3.

Close to the summit now.

Once down the notch, continue up the trail for a last bit of steeper hiking to Missouri’s summit.

Summit view of Missouri Gulch Basin.

Mount Harvard is visible to the left.

View of Mount Belford from Missouri’s summit.

The route is Class 2, with the notch Class 2+, and third-class (moderate) exposure. Route length is 10.5 miles round-trip with 4,500 feet of elevation gain.

Interested in reading the original trip report? You can see it here.

Bob Doucette

Hiking Colorado’s ‘Decalibron’ loop: Mount Democrat, Mount Cameron, Mount Lincoln and Mount Bross

Nephew Jordan on Mount Democrat.

NOTE: Going through old trip reports, I’ve found a lot of them are long on storytelling and short on beta. So on occasion, I’m going to revisit a few peaks to give a more straightforward look at what it’s like to hike or climb these mountains.

There are few opportunities where you can combine four 14,000-foot summits within a relatively modest 7-plus miles, but that is what you get with the Lincoln Group – more commonly known as the Decalibron – in the heart of the Mosquito Range.

The Debalibron consists of four 14ers – Mount Democrat, Mount Cameron, Mount Lincoln and Mount Bross. Cameron, though above 14,000 feet, is an “unofficial” 14er due to the fact that it has less than 300 feet of prominence from nearby Mount Lincoln.

This is a fun day of straightforward hiking – a strong pair of legs and lungs are all that are needed, in addition to a sharp eye on the skies and the Ten Essentials most hikers carry in their day packs. If you catch it at the right time of year, the Decalibron can offer a wildflower bonanza. Either way, there are old mines to see, plus great views of nearby ranges. Much of the hike is above 13,000 feet.

Low on the trail above Kite Lake.

A little higher, above the ruins of an old mine.

From Kite Lake, follow the trail as it goes up the slopes toward a saddle between Mount Democrat (14,148 feet) and Mount Cameron (14,238 feet). You’ll pass some Kite Lake campsites, then follow the trail to the ruins of the Kentucky Belle Mine. From here, the trail ascends a rocky slope where you’ll gain much of the elevation in this hike. It will follow three switchbacks before hitting the saddle between Mount Democrat and Mount Cameron.

Going up the slopes of Mount Democrat.

Once at the saddle, go left and follow steeper switchbacks up to a broad, flatter area just below the summit. From here, hike to remaining couple of hundred yards to the top. The hike up Mount Democrat gains about 2,000 feet and is the hardest part of the route. Democrat is also a good point to stop, look at the weather and decide if you will move on to Mount Cameron.

On the summit of Mount Democrat.

From here, descend the mountain back to the saddle and follow the trail up the ridge on Cameron. The terrain steepens for a few hundred yards, then eases as the summit nears. Cameron’s summit is broad, and you get a good look toward Mount Lincoln and the remaining route toward Mount Bross. This is another good place to do a weather check and see if you will have time for what comes next.

Low on Cameron’s ridge, looking back at the saddle and Mount Democrat. This is a good view of the route of Mount Democrat.

Higher on Cameron’s ridge, with a nice view of Quandary Peak.

From the summit of Mount Cameron, looking at Mount Bross.

The moonscape summit of Mount Cameron, with a view of Mount Democrat.

The easiest part of the route is following the trail off Cameron’s moonscape-like summit toward the saddle between it and Mount Lincoln (14,286 feet). It’s a short descent, then a quick rise over a knob, then on to Lincoln’s true summit.

A short, easy walk to Mount Lincoln’s summit from Cameron.

From here, go back to the Cameron/Lincoln saddle and follow the trail that goes around Cameron’s south side. It continues between a long, broad connecting ridge to Mount Bross (14,172 feet). This is the longest section of the upper route, and is a mild grade in its entirety. The 1.5 mile hike to Bross ends either just short of the summit or, if you wish, follow one of the unmaintained trails (there are a few) to the top.

Looking back on Mount Lincoln while on the way to Mount Bross.

Something to keep in mind: The summit of Mount Bross is private property, so technically speaking, hitting its summit is an intrusion. But most people hike to its summit anyway.

On Mount Bross, heading down. Mount Democrat is to the left, Mount Cameron to the right.

Leaving Bross, head west down the ridge that slopes down toward Kite Lake. The hiking is easy at first, but degrades as you get lower and the route steepens. Loose footing is present until the route goes left of the ridge and follows a more solid, gentler decline that leads to the willows and the easy hiking back to the lake.

Going down Mount Bross. Lots of loose talus.

Lower on Mount Bross, heading back toward the trailhead.

The route is 7.25 miles from the lake. Going up Mount Democrat is Class 2; the rest of the hiking, with the exception of the descent off Bross, is Class 1. Danger from falls (exposure) is minimal, with the exception of a few points on the summit of Mount Lincoln, and even there it’s manageable. The route is straightforward and easy to follow on well-defined trails, though its can get somewhat murky coming off the loose talus on the lower part of Mount Bross.

Waterfall sighting close to the trailhead.

If you want to park by the Kite Lake trailhead, you’ll need to pay a $3 fee. Camping is available near the trailhead. The road to the trailhead can be somewhat rough, but most cars and trucks with some clearance can manage it. You can avoid the fee by parking below the parking area along the road, though that will add some length to your hike.

Want to read the original trip report? You can see it here.

Bob Doucette

Climbing Colorado’s North Eolus

A cropped look at North Eolus, from the summit of Mount Eolus.

NOTE: This is the next in a series of revisiting some peaks from past trip reports, with an emphasis more on the route. Special thanks to Mike Zdero and Matt Carver for helping me out with some photos for this one; for some reason, I didn’t feel like taking many pics going up this mountain.

Of the four 14ers of Chicago Basin, North Eolus (14,039 feet) is probably something of an afterthought. It’s not an “officially ranked” 14er because it’s summit does not rise 300 feet or more from the saddle connecting it to its parent peak, Mount Eolus.

That said if you set out to climb it, there will be no doubt left in your mind that it’s a real mountain, complete with a few challenges and incredible summit views. North Eolus is usually done in tandem with Mount Eolus, and among the Chicago Basin 14ers, some might argue that it’s the easiest of the four to get. I can’t make the judgment – all I can say is I thoroughly enjoyed its comfortable, scenic summit perch. By itself, with Mount Eolus, or with the rest of the Chicago Basin 14ers, this is an unforgettable alpine wilderness experience.

Some of the information to follow is identical to that of Mount Eolus, so if you read my post on that one, you can skip ahead a bit. But if not, read on.

Getting to Chicago Basin is a bit of an obstacle. It’s remote, and there’s no quick way to get to its trailhead on foot. You basically have two choices: Hike in from Durango (that might take at least a couple of days) or get an open-air ticket on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Train, a tourist service that takes vacationers on a ride between the two towns and through the mountain scenery along the Animas River. Most people do the latter, a service provided by the train operator to backpackers. The train stops at a place called Needleton (there’s no town there, just a spot for the train to stop and let people off), and on the banks of the Animas River there is a pedestrian bridge that leads you to a trail. Your ticket price will include pickup and a return trip to Durango once your trip is over; be sure to book in advance.

The bridge leading across the Animas River from Needleton.

From the bridge crossing, a good trail goes all the way to the Basin. It starts out flat, but soon you start gaining elevation quickly. About 5.5 miles in, you will see places where you can camp. Campsites are available up to 7 miles or so from the bridge crossing, right at the southern foot of Mount Eolus. Most people choose to camp after the hike in so they can get an early start – a wise thing in the summer, as afternoon storms are common here.

Easy hiking on the low part of the trail to Chicago Basin.

Impressive view of the Chicago Basin peaks from higher on the trail.

A great water source high on the trail to Chicago Basin. Several campsites are close by. This is about seven miles from the trailhead.

From there, follow a good trail along the river, then a series of switchbacks up the headwall – steep Class 1 and 2 hiking. It’s a real leg- and lung-buster, but nothing more. Higher up the headwall, you will cross rock slabs that are slippery when wet. This will lead you to a saddle between Mount Eolus (to your left) and North Eolus.

A view looking back at the route low on the headwall.

High on the headwall, looking up toward the saddle between Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

It’s about here when you’ll want to take a look at the skies and determine how the weather is going to hold out. Even though the climbing on North Eolus is straightforward, none of these peaks offer a fast retreat to treeline.

If it all looks good, you can proceed up North Eolus’ south ridge to the summit. At the saddle, turn right to gain North Eolus’ summit ridge. Even though North Eolus shares the same ridgeline as its taller neighbor, the rock couldn’t feel more different. Rather than a series of blocky ledges like you see on Mount Eolus, North Eolus is more a more slabby experience and not as steep. A Class 3 scramble on grippy, solid rock awaits, giving you quick access to the summit. There are no route-finding issues here, and much of the pitch is walkable. The two most difficult spots on the route are at the very beginning – an awkward scramble move to gain the ridge, and just short of the summit where the route steepens a tad. While there is a good amount of exposure to your left, it’s avoidable – certainly nothing like the airy ridge-direct route on Eolus.

Looking up at the route on North Eolus, with a mountain goat looking down. The route scrambes over this craggy spot, then follows the ridgeline up.

From above, looking down on hikers beginning to ascend North Eolus’ south ridge.

A climber nearing the summit of North Eolus.

Looking up at North Eolus’ summit.

The reward is the magnificent view of Mount Eolus, in addition to Sunlight Peak and Windom Peak on the other side of the Basin. Equally impressive are the Weminuche 13ers, including Pigeon Peak, Turret Peak, and further in the distance, Vestal Peak and Arrow Peak. The panorama of the Weminuche’s alpine wilderness from the North Eolus summit is not to be missed.

A magnificent view of the Weminuche Wilderness peaks.

From the campsite closest to the headwall, your elevation gain is about 3,000 feet. Route length is about 6 miles.

A couple things to note: Bring bug spray (the flies are relentless in the summer), and know that there is a sizable population of mountain goats that are accustomed to people and often hang out a camp and might follow you around.

Interested in reading the original Chicago Basin trip report? See it here.

Bob Doucette

Climbing Colorado’s Mount Eolus

Mount Eolus, as seen from neighboring North Eolus.

NOTE: Going through old trip reports, I’ve found a lot of them are long on storytelling and short on beta. So on occasion, I’m going to revisit a few peaks to give a more straightforward look at what it’s like to hike or climb these mountains.

The San Juan Mountains make up my favorite mountain range to date, mostly because of the variety of peaks you can find there, in addition to the sheer quantity. Inside the range is anything from simple, short walk-ups to highly technical – and spicy – climbs. Whatever mountain you choose is going to have a sense of wildness, as these mountains almost entirely exist within established wilderness areas.

One of these areas is the Weminuche Wilderness, some of the wildest and most remote country in the state of Colorado. Among the prime destinations in this wilderness are Chicago Basin and its numerous 13,000- and 14,000-foot peaks.

Four 14ers serve as the pinnacles of a crown of peaks surrounding the basin. On the east end are Sunlight Peak and Windom Peak. On the west, Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

Mount Eolus (14,083 feet) is the second-highest of the four and seen by most as the second-hardest. It’s definitely a worthy target, and is often climbed in tandem with North Eolus.

Getting to Chicago Basin is a bit of an obstacle itself. Like I said, it’s remote. It’s not like driving to a trailhead in the Front Range or the Sawatch. You basically have two choices: Hike in from Durango (that might take at least a couple of days) or get an open-air ticket on the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Train, a tourist service that takes vacationers on a ride between the two towns and through the mountain scenery along the Animas River. Most people do the latter, a service provided by the train operator to backpackers. The train stops at a place called Needleton (there’s no town there, just a spot for the train to stop and let people off), and on the banks of the Animas River there is a pedestrian bridge that leads you to a trail. Your ticket price will include pickup and a return trip to Durango once your trip is over; be sure to book in advance.

The bridge at the Needleton stop, crossing the Animas River.

Easy hiking to start the trip to Chicago Basin. But it gets steeper and more difficult until you get the basin itself.

The hiking mellows as you get closer to the basin. Dispersed campsites appear up the trail from here.

Looking up at the flanks of Mount Eolus from camp.

From the bridge crossing, a good trail goes all the way to the Basin. It starts out flat, but soon you start gaining elevation quickly. About 5.5 miles in, you will see places where you can camp. Campsites are available up to 7 miles or so from the bridge crossing, right at the southern foot of Mount Eolus. Most people choose to camp after the hike in so they can get an early start – a wise thing in the summer, as afternoon storms are common here.

Looking back at the base of the headwall leading up to the upper portions of the route. From here, steeper switchbacks await.

From there, follow a good trail along the river, then a series of switchbacks up the headwall – steep Class 1 and 2 hiking. It’s a real leg- and lung-buster, but nothing more. Higher up the headwall, you will cross rock slabs that are slippery when wet. This will lead you to a saddle between Mount Eolus (to your left) and North Eolus.

Nearing the top of the headwall.

Getting closer to the saddle between Mount Eolus and North Eolus.

Almost to the saddle, with Mount Eolus seen in the background left.

Higher on the mountain.

It’s about here when you’ll want to take a good look at the skies and determine how the weather is going to hold out. The route from here will slow you down considerably, and if you’re caught on the connecting ridge or on Eolus’ summit pitch, there is no fast retreat.

The Catwalk. It looks spookier than it is. But there is relatively high exposure on either side of you as you traverse it.

Here you will face the first real obstacle climbing Mount Eolus – the Catwalk. Visually, it’s a slender ridge that is usually about 10-15 feet wide, but as narrow as five feet in some places. There is no alternative route to get to Eolus from the saddle – you either cross the Catwalk or forgo the summit entirely. The rock is solid, but it is exposed on both sides. Mostly, it’s a walk with an occasional scrambling move.

Once off the Catwalk, a couple of options are available. Most people follow a series of cairns up the ledges leading to the summit, just left of the ridgeline proper. There is some exposure, but it’s manageable. The main challenge here is route-finding: negotiating the blocky ledges to find your way to the top. The route is classified as a Class 3 scramble with high exposure.

Nearing the summit, taking the ridge direct. Most people ascend to the left of the ridge proper as seen here. That way is less exposed. If you take the ridge direct, be prepared for more committing moves and much higher exposure.

For a more direct climb, go up the northeast ridge proper. This is a more demanding way to finish the climb in terms of route-finding, climbing difficulty and managing exposure.  The ridge direct is Class 3-4 climbing, with spots of airy, no-fall zone exposure (large drop-offs to your right would likely end in death if you fell). You will be able to climb over or around several stone blocks; some require traverses that are pretty committing.

The final push to the top involves easier scrambling and a rest stop on the mountain’s small summit perch. From here, you’ll have sweeping views of North Eolus to the north, along with 13ers Pigeon and Turret peaks to the northwest. To the east, Sunlight Peak, Windom Peak and Sunlight Spire (among others) can be seen.

Either route you take, be sure to test handholds and footholds. But I found most of the rock fairly solid.

Summit view, looking at (from left) Sunlight Peak, Sunlight Spire and Windom Peak.

From the campsites closest to the headwall, your elevation gain is about 3,000 feet, with a round-trip route length of about 6 miles.

A couple things to note: Bring bug spray (the flies are relentless in the summer), and know that there is a sizable population of mountain goats that are accustomed to people and often hang out a camp and might follow you around.

Interested in reading the original full Chicago Basin trip report? See it here.

Bob Doucette