Bison Peak Hike: Southwest Ridge in a Lingering Winter

Bison Peak Hike
with Caleb
Southwest Ridge from Ute Creek TH
12.2 Miles RT (plus scrambling)
3671' gain (8760' to 12431')
Class 1 / Class 2-3 (snow/scrambling)

With deep, unstable snow -- and equally unstable weather -- hitting many of the higher mountains, Caleb and I decided to check out the Taryall Mountains in the Lost Creek Wilderness (LCW). We've read great reviews (online and in the Roach's famous Colorado's Lost Creek Wilderness: Classic Summit Hikes guide) and been enticed by pictures of the otherworldly rock formations on the summit plateaus of Bison Peak, which also promised great views and less snow than higher peaks to the west, while still offering sublime views but no significant avalanche risk. Although the same wind that scours snow from the summit hit us above treeline, this hike ended up being a fabulous one.

We made the left turn off of 285 onto Park County 77 toward Taryall Reservoir, which was a new road for both of us. The road heads 20 miles East to the trailhead, and other than some construction, it was snow-free and in excellent condition. We drove past the Ute Creek TH and looked for camping off of the side of the road, not really finding anything until we found an excellent spot near the Twin Eagles TH.

After rain and clouds in the Front Range for most of the week, we were fortunate to enjoy hundreds of stars in a mostly-clear night, made even brighter when the waning moon rose over the mountains just after midnight.

At sunrise the next morning, we broke camp and headed back up to the Ute Creek trailhead.



We started getting ready around 7:15, and although nobody else was stirring in the parking lot or along the short drive to the trailhead, a pickup truck pulled up as we were getting ready. We exchanged friendly greetings with the solo female hiker. She commented on how conditions in the Sawatch and Front Range didn't look appealing, but that it should be a nicer day here. We asked if she had been up to Bison before, and she replied that she had done so numerous times.

She asked if we had the LCW guidebook. When we responded, she said, casually and humbly, "My husband wrote that book."

I also noticed the Hard Rock 100 stickers on the truck.

"You're Jennifer!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean, you're husband wrote it?" I asked, shaking her hand. "You wrote it too!"

Caleb and I counted ourselves very lucky to meet Jennifer Roach, a Colorado mountaineering legend.



We asked her more about Bison Peak, as well as Hard Rock, which both her and Gerry are doing this year. Again, the entire time she was incredibly friendly and modest. We have a strong appreciation for folks like the Roach's, and their contributions to safe and interesting hiking and climbing challenges, as well as enjoyment of the state of Colorado. I wish them the best at Hard Rock, and the presence of people like them also make me very excited about the history, tradition, and ethos of the Hard Rock 100.

After chatting, we headed up to the drainage on the well-defined trail. The trail rises gently through the trees, along a stream and occasional boulders, well-protected from the elements. Caleb and I kept a steady pace and we were encouraged by the lack of wind above the trees, yet were almost startled about 1.5 hours into our hike when we came across a hiker coming down.

"How is it up there?" we asked.
"Full-on winter conditions!" he told us. He left before sunrise, but told us of an unrelenting wind up on the ridge that reduced visibility to zero and made him turn back. He wished he had goggles, warmer gloves, and a 3rd layer of wind-proof pants (none of which we had), but said it was still enjoyable views before the summit. We were a bit dismayed by this forecast, but optimistic that the previous front moving east and the morning sunshine might make things more tolerable.

Soon after that, we started hitting snow, and the terrain became more interesting out of the trees:


We also now had a view of the summit ridge, and saw some spindrift and evidence of stronger winds up high, but hoped we could stay along formations on the summit to help block the wind as much as possible. We hit McBison Pass (between Bison and McCurdy) and the wind was still tolerable, so we knew we could safely head to the summit. The boot-deep snow on the summit was manageable without snowshoes, although Microspikes and/or poles were helpful.




Mesmerized by the summit rocks, we got a little sloppy and started scrambling up the tallest pile of boulders in front of us. We knew that route-finding would yield an easy scramble to the summit peak, but decided to play around instead. ("After all, hotshots climb the face!") We stuck to problems within our modest abilities, but still enjoyed a few challenges. When we couldn't get higher, Caleb found a nifty passage to the other side:



And then, we saw a completely separate, but clearly higher, jumble of rocks in front of us. So, we downclimbed and headed over to the true summit. This was significantly easier, but we still enjoyed practice on some challenging mixed snow and rock.

The summit itself afforded great views:



We were entirely surprised at how prominent the view of the West side of Pikes was. But, it was incredibly windy, so we descended to a sunnier, sheltered spot below, where we ate lunch. Shortly after, we saw Jennifer again, and chatted. She pointed out the trail to McCurdy, including the loss and subsequent gain of elevation on the "Bison Arm" ridge, as we had mentioned a possible hike to McCurdy as well earlier in the day.

By now, however, we were content with our exploration of the Bison summit, and some more unhurried scrambling:


We made our way back down to the pass, and then decided to head back into the trees:


...after one last view of Pikes:


Our feet warmed up quickly once we headed back into the trees, out of the wind.
Some of the snow on the upper parts of the trail was already melting. Did I mention: the Class-1 trail through the trees is excellent for running? I think Caleb started it first, and we ran the steeper sections. I certainly loved doing this, and was encouraged as Caleb was keeping up. He's already good at real sports, like basketball and softball, so who knows if he'd want to pick up a made-up sport like slowrunningthroughthemountainsallday?

By the bottom of the trail, the temperature was absolutely glorious, and the windy creek came into view:



In fact, it looked good enough to fish in!


In all, this was a great hike with great company. Shoulder-season, winter conditions make it a great option before the high peaks open up, yet without as much avalanche concerns. Scrambling on the rocks can be as easy or as hard as you make it. The LCW is definitely and uncrowded area worth exploring!

Stormy Peaks Duathlon via North Fork Trail

9-Aug-2009
72 miles road bike from house (~4900 ft)
~20 miles trail run/hike to Stormy Peaks (~12200 ft)
11 hours total


I was finally starting to feel recovered from Leadville, anxious to run somewhere in the mountains again, and the weather was looking good. And, ideally, I wouldn't have to use the car.
Earlier in the week, there was a bit of discussion on the FC trailrunner list about Comanche Peak wilderness. While I'm more familiar with the north/Pingree Park/Poudre side of Comanche, someone mentioned the North Fork trail as being a good option. In this case, the North Fork being the "Big T", a river which I've ridden next to countless times and have awe and respect, but don't have much experience with the river away from Hwy 34.

Here, I'm going to jump ahead to get the negative part out of the way, so that the rest of the story is all positive. I arrived back at the trailhead about 4.5 hours after starting, longer in time and distance than I planned but a fun route overall. My bike was happily unmolested and the tires were full of air. After a quick shoe change, I bombed down the dirt road on the road bike, ~30mph with barely room to think. I honestly think I was more aggressive mainly because I had just been running, slowly, and it was nice to cruise without pedaling. I almost lost it on the last corner, as there was too much sand in the corner to brake comfortably, but I needed to stay on the road! Luckily the skinny tires held up and I was on my way. As it was now mid-afternoon, some clouds were threatening from the west, so I tried to 'hurry', as much as I could. The rain held off in the canyon, but not the idiots: a gaggle of tourists were pulled over for bighorn sheep pics, including one minivan parked into the shoulder/traffic lane (with the family still inside, taking pictures, too lazy to park legally and walk); shortly after that, some guys went by thinking it was funny to blast an airhorn at riders as they went by. I made it to Loveland without rain, but then lightning started coming, with a mile to the East. Again I hurried, and on one of the country roads, with no other cars and myself hurrying to avoid lightning on the edge of the road, a car honked at me and tapped the brakes, unsure of how to share the road competently with some guy trying to stay out of the way and get home safely to his wife. So after a fabulous day, I was in a bit of a foul mood. I think many of the anti-cyclist motorists really cannot fathom riding a bike on the road, and believe that only people on a bike stand out as inconveniencing their ride for entertainment, not admitting that they themselves are nearly all of the time driving for fairly useless errands. They lack the experience and imagination to realize that I very well could have driven a car to the trailhead instead, at the cost of clogging the road up even more as well as other negative economic externalities (increased road/maintenance cost, pollution, statistical accident threat to them). Why not honk at all the joyriders and tourists clogging up the road instead? Or people driving a few miles every day to work? Because somehow skinny guys on skinny tires and 20 pounds of bike stick out more and are easier to harrass. I'm not trying to prove any point or anything, I pose no risk and just want to be left alone to ride safely, I just like to ride my bike and stay the heck out of the way.
***
Back to the beginning....
The ride there was fairly uneventful, I strapped most of my extra weight (trail shoes and clothes) under my seat, and this kept most of the weight off my back. I arrived at Dunraven Glade Rd in a couple hours, and finally got a chance to ride something new. I knew it was a couple miles or so up the road, and I vaguely recalled that it was an unimproved road. Well, it's a 2.3 mile grind up a hardpacked, washboarded dirt road, and I couldn't even muster double-digit speeds. Given the choice again, though, I wouldn't hesitate to bring the road bike, as this was only a small part of the ride. Still, it slowed me down from my estimated run starting time, as well as fatigued my legs more than I anticipated. But I arrived at the trailhead, which has a restroom and a lot that was full of cars and no bike rack as usual, but I hitched to a wooden fence by the trailhead sign.

Generally, the beginning of the trail is nice and shaded, friendly and accessible to families to take a stroll in the woods, as well as horseback riding. I'm not a horse guy, but if I were, this is a pretty good spot with the shade and lack of mt. bikes, and every horse group I encountered was polite and respectfully yielded the powerful but slower horses. Otherwise, this trail is a nice but longer backdoor entry into RMNP. It's about 4.3 miles to the RMNP boundary, and beautiful uncrowded campsites line the trail. Most of the traffic at this point, if any, are friendly backpackers. Of course, along the way is the Big T as a reliable water source. Continuing on, one can hear the rumble of Lost Falls, and shortly thereafter, just over 8 miles in, reach the fork for Lost Lake or Stormy Peaks. Note that the otherwise reliable and enjoyable "Afoot and Afield" pegs the Lost Lake trail as a 14.3 mile roundtrip, but this cannot be correct. As another aside, it is my observation that "Lost Lake" and "Blue Lake" are the two most common lake names in Colorado.
Anyway, it appears that the (left) fork to Lost Lake is more popular as a backpacking destination, but I wanted to hit tundra, so took the right fork to Stormy Peaks. The pass is designated as 1.6 miles from the fork. Quickly, the trail steepens and switchbacks up above treeline. While a bit rockier, the trail is in great condition, and was being worked on by three young men that had obviously hauled equipment quite far onto the trail. They were tarp camping and had some beer in the river: what more do you need?


Anyway, the open views into RMNP were stunning, and South Stormy Peaks campsite was the best one of all. I slowed to a fast hike and hiked up to the pass. Here I saw a party of 3, but they were heading to the south for more views. Stormy Peaks are the higher points to the right, so I just headed straight up some boulders to the top. I was rewarded with even better views of both RMNP and Pingree Park, some wind, and a new summit register. Just a few people seem to trickle in every weekend, plus a large party from Wausau, WI (just typing that summons forth the smell of the paper factory when driving throuh that town, but I say that fondly as it was a gateway to going "Up North" as a kid). After some time up top, I headed back down, and found the trail to be quite runnable in this direction (meaning, I was too tired to run up it, but it's quite pleasant to run down).

I stopped at Lost Falls to refill on water, and I met a friendly backpacking couple, Justin and Allison (sp?) from Nebraska. Justin had been coming here for quite some time and said it has gotten busier/more popular, though even I couldn't complain about the crowds. I only had my UV steripen, he offered to let me use his filter, but I wanted to continue the 'experiment' with the steripen only (and my bandanna 'pre-filter') so I knew if it worked on the 3 liters I tried. (Now that it's been over a week, I'm still happy with the results). They were staying until Monday and looks like they had a great weekend of weather. My water gathering and break took a little longer than expected, but soon I was back on the trail for an uninterrupted stretch of a few more hours of running. It was still quite pleasant in the shade and I wasn't in any hurry. I passed a solo hiker and spaced out a bit, as right after passing him I biffed on a small rock, slid forward and dropped my bottles. He asked if I was OK, I was mostly embarrassed at having a witness!

Anyway, all told it was a great ride and run. I look forward to returning and exploring Lost Lake someday.