Desolation Peaks RMNP

From 2012-August Desolation Peaks Loop

Marmot Pt. (11,909')
West Desolation (12,918')
East Desolation (12,949')

Nick and I decided to check out a peak-bagging loop focused on the Desolation Peaks in RMNP. He has a more detailed writeup, but essentially we started at the Alpine Visitor's Center, shamelessly grabbed Marmot Point (a high 11er) before skirting along the Mummy Range to hit the Desolation Peaks.

The Desolation Peaks are lesser-visited high 12ers, shyly hiding behind the Mummy's, but more jagged and pointy than the rounder neighbours. The 2 peaks are connected by a jagged, talus ridge, with the East peak being slightly higher. Fun, exposed views await those who venture here.

Unfortunately, with the exposure and significant time above treeline, weather can often be a factor. We had a decently typical forecast, and even with developing clouds, we thought the broken, blue skies in the distance would be sufficient to give us time, after a 10AM summit of East Desolation.

Soon enough, Nick felt his hair sticking up -- so that's what the shaggy ultra-mane is all about, it's a lightning detector! -- and as we descended, within seconds we heard a giant crack (more like an explosion) directly above us.

On the face of it, being on a ridge wouldn't be ideal, but it turns out the ridge has a depth of features not found on the rest of the route. Along a vertical granite wall on East Desolation, we scrambled underneath talus, which formed a rather protective and comfortable cave. We waited for 45 minutes and were relatively sheltered from rain and graupel. The close lightning seemed to be an outlier, as most other thunder rumbles were more distant, with no imminent cloud-ground flashes seen.

We killed time by making a video:

Desolation Peaks - Cave during Storm from mike hinterberg on Vimeo.

Other reports talked about exposed, loose talus on the ridge -- we were not looking forward to this, with the newly added factors of nearby storms added to wet rock (with some accumulated graupel). But being scarcely 10 minutes away, and comfortable with "Desolation Cave" as a retreat point, we emerged from the cave to examine the ridge.

Even while wet, the ridge was far more stable and enjoyable than I had read. I found the large talus forming East Desolation to be generally trustworthy and solid, both climbing and downclimbing, with great exposed views. I was motivated to move quickly because of weather, trying to get into a zone of steady climbing, and found that cracks on the climber's right of the peak provided reliable passage.

East Desolation Peak climb from mike hinterberg on Vimeo.

We retreated safely to East Desolation, with rain threatening but no further evidence of storms. Still, we played it safe by descending off of East Desolation towards the Poudre River, into the forest. Now we were relatively sheltered from weather, but spent the next hour in a longer-than-expected bushwhack.

We (meaning Nick) had initial plans of climbing a lame, forested hump of a hill that had sufficient statistics to be a ranked Larimer Peak. My interest piqued a bit when learning that it had a nickname of "Nutcracker Peak," which somehow made it more interesting than "Pt. 10855" -- but with another forested bushwhack ahead of us, we called it a day. Mercifully, the return to Trail Ridge was uneventful in terms of weather, and was more lightly-forested.

Tour de Bobcat Gulch: Green Ridge, Spruce Mountain, Storm Mountain

Green Ridge
Spruce Mountain
Storm Mountain
Loop: 33M, 7000' elevation gain





In June of 2000, a wildfire started in Bobcat Gulch near Drake, before spreading northeast up toward Masonville. Over the course of 5 days, the fire consumed more than 10000 acres in Roosevelt National Forest.




The vast swatch of downed timber, blackened trees, and denuded ridges a full 12 years later serve as a somber reminder of the fire.

Still, there is beautiful country buried within, and Nick and I took a leisurely Saturday to explore it.

Our planned route suggested a 29-30M loop of mostly trails and some dirt roads, with only a bit of bushwhacking to the first 2 summits, all in perfect, windless weather. As usual, these plans gang aft agley, involving extra-credit sub-summit, some missed turns, and ground conditions that weren't evident in armchair orienteering. It's all part of the fun, though.

We began on the trails of Bobcat Ridge, as the sole car parked in the lot: sunrise behind us to the east, and a large herd of elk silhouetted along the valley loop to the west. Glory. We made our way up the Powerline Trail for the first climb of the day, entering the spacious and familiar Mahoney Park, guarded by "Mahoney Knob" up above.

Now it was time to climb straight up the ridge along the old Powerline Trail, for new vantage points where we could mistakenly view the wrong summits we intended to climb. First up was Green Ridge, whose name is no longer befitting since the fire. We climbed the next outcropping past Mahoney Knob, thinking it to be a fine summit, but seeing a more obvious, higher summit beyond. Not a problem on a gorgeous day, but it required another descent and similarly slow re-climb through deadfall. (And thankfully, the rattlesnakes are still asleep).

We reached the top of our first planned summit, which ended up being the most interesting, "bang for the buck" of the day. We already had clear views of Longs to the west, and the western edge of Green Ridge actually had a more impressive, rocky face. Nick found the smallest summit register yet:


The register, in a small pill bottle, was still large enough for several years of names.

We now had a direct line-of-site to Spruce Mountain, which required another quick deadfall descent to a dirt road climb. Eager to be running again, we made great time up the dirt road, only to overshoot the direct line up Spruce. Back to a steady hike, we curved back to the northeast, to the summit plateau of Spruce. The plateau itself contains the same characteristic rock and boulder formations down in Mahoney Park, keeping the mind interested in interpreting meaning from the random shapes. Without a clear summit register or cairn, we explored the summit thoroughly for highpoint candidates: every significant digit counts.

Satisfied with this, we prepared for our final summit of the day: Storm Mountain, which loomed ahead, at just under 10000 feet, which we planned to reach through the ominously-named Bear Gulch. (If anyone has any young sons looking for ideas of badass pictures to draw, I bet a picture of a bear in front of a mountain with lightning striking the top would be pretty awesome. Just sayin'.).

The approach through Bear Gulch was an enjoyable shaded, cool Forest Service road in thick tree cover, which was a nice change on a warm morning. The only drawback was the mud, snow, and ice that slowed progress a bit, but the same probably also is what keeps the place quiet from OHV's at this time of year. I've never heard too much about this area, but I would suggest it would be a prime mountain bike ride in May and June, when it's completely melted out and dry, similar to the Old Flowers Road area.

The climbing was steady and obvious, and definitely slow for me. Occasional road junctions and map double-checks by Nick helped give an excuse for me to catch back up to him when needed. The road opened up a few times into various flat, open parks, with Foggy Park being particularly scenic.



Knowing we were close, it was obvious that this was the final climb up to Storm Mountain. Nick maintained a steady run, and I think he was prepared to run it all the way up in a final, impressive push, which was only thwarted by shin-deep snowcover on the road. I was looking forward to getting to the top and eating something more substantial than gel, as I was getting a little bonky. The road took us to the top, which would likely be more heavily visited by jeeps in the summer, but was entirely quiet today. It was the literal high-point of the day, but had the most obstructed views due to heavier cover. It would still be a recommended mountain bike ride.

Now almost 5000 feet higher than where we started, it was time for the long, gradual descent. The slipping and sliding on the ice and snow downhill wasn't helpful for speed, and beat up my feat a little bit in wet shoes. We took advantage of the last sizeable snowfield to refill water, having been a good bottle or two behind a planned schedule.

Finally we began descending down Storm Mountain Road itself, into the small community of Cedar Park, and it was an absolutely re-energizing, steady downhill. It felt good to be moving steadily, and it was another reminder of how quickly one can go from feeling a bit run-down to feeling great again -- just get over that last hill and a downhill awaits.

We enjoyed the open ranches along rolling terrain and rocky outcroppings that aren't visible from the Big Thompson down below. We made our way generally east through a maze of roads, staying on what was labeled on the map as a Forest Service Rd, before being stopped dead in our tracks by a what appeared to be an abrupt change from the road into several clearly-marked private driveways.

Our options were to backtrack significantly, or try to find a way through the woods, which would have been quite tedious. Or, option 3: talk to one of the cabin owners that was out staining his deck. We didn't want to invade his private space, and didn't know what sort of reception we might get -- this is the sort of place for living off the grid, hunting and subsistance living, not running around in shorts and wicking fabric and eating gel packets -- but we tried our luck anyway.

Our apprehension was completely unfounded, as the property owner, Mark, was completely cordial and in tune with the surroundings he obviously enjoys living in. Among his 40 acres, besides a beautiful cabin, was a greenhouse, compost heap, solar panels, and chicken coop. He didn't blink in explaining suggestions on how to get back to Bobcat Ridge, or why anyone would take such a circuitous route. In fact, he told us some of the names of the surrounding peaks (that don't appear on the map), and suggested and gave us permission to follow a faint trail through his property that would get us to the FS road on Cedar Creek that we sought. And, very kindly and importantly, he refilled our water bottles, saving us from debating the benefits of dehydration vs. the questionable, muddy water sources that would be our only other option.

After that refreshing interlude, we managed a bit of extra-credit climbing and unnecessary exploring along the creek, before heading up the road toward the backside of Bobcat Ridge. Finally, we reached the backside of Bobcat, and the familiar scar of the powerlines. Our last climb of the day was complete, so gravity did the rest.

We managed to see the Goding brothers at the bottom, chatting with them a bit, before wrapping up the day and preparing excuses for the wives, after a good chunk of time on the feet, and a few more Larimer County Peak visitations.

Red Mountain Open Space Exploration: Table Mountain and Pt. 7178

Red Mountain Open Space:Bent Rock Trail
Table Mountain (7074')
Pt 7178

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The changing of February into March means the re-opening of Red Mountain Open Space, which is closed seasonally from December through March. I hadn't made it up there yet -- it's a solid 25 miles north of Fort Collins -- but was eager to do so. I pointed Nick at the nearby peaks on the Table Mountain quad, and we decided to go have a look.

As we made our way up north on dirt roads, the city scene gave way to a positively pastoral landscape of ranches and rock. The closer we got to our destination, almost at the Wyoming border, the more impressive the surrounding terrain became. Unfortunately, the wind was Wyoming-like, as well.

Our first goal was to check out Table Mountain, a prominent mesa just south of the Open Space:


Table Mountain is a steep but manageable walkup. Unfortunately, it was miserable in the wind, and it was absolutely howling down below on the west side of the hill. Downclimbing wasn't a good idea, since there were times while hiking or running when a quick, surprise gust would blow your leg or body in an unintended direction. We tried to discuss a plan, but you couldn't even hear a person talk. Then, the wind picked up some more, so you couldn't even think, as your thoughts blew away before you could even think them.

So we went back down to the trail, and decided to stay low and run around a bit.

Of course, as such things happen, it wasn't that bad once we had retreated to the valley, so we discussed options, and decided to head back south again and then toward 7178'. The wind was still bad, but at least on stable trail and dirt tracks, it was more manageable and enjoyable. The climb up 7178' is actually fun, with a steep grind up a dirt road, surrounded by red rock terrain giving way to a forest of pines.

With renewed vigor, more running, and less wind, we headed north for further exploration. As we saw a tilted slab of pink sandstone topping out above the trees, we instinctively headed towards it, thinking it was another ranked summit. After more significant work getting towards it, and climbing higher through the trees for a better view, we realized that it wasn't just any gulch in our way; rather, the steep, sheer 500' walls of Boxelder Creek.

Photo courtesy of Nick Clark

This meant that we had no choice but to descend safely to the East, parallel to the canyon, and that we wouldn't have time to head further north, but the spectacular views of the canyon were worth it. We then dropped down next to a sheer drop that was obviously worn smooth by water, with a dry bowl at the bottom -- although completely dry, this was clearly an intermittent waterfall, shown on the map, which would be quite impressive during the spring.

Heading back East, we were impressed by more bright red rock -- how exquisite to have something like this so close to Fort Collins! It is more reminiscent of Fruita, Moab, or Vernal, than typical Northern Colorado scenery. Sure, Red Rocks Park and GotG are impressive, but desecrated by concrete and gapers.



We finished up with a bit more running on the trails.
The scenery along the Bent Rock trail alone -- short and non-technical -- is definitely worth a visit for anyone.

Just be mindful of the wind -- it can get so bad at times, it can rip your hide right off!

Photo courtesy of Nick Clark

Rist Canyon Triple Trudge: Buckhorn, "Leila", Ethel

Buckhorn Mountain (8341')
Pt. 8415' ("Leila Peak")
Mt. Ethel (8471')
~9 Miles, 3000' gain, 4.5 hours


Nick hatched another plan to bag some local Larimer County peaks on Sunday. While a longer route would clearly be manageable in the summer, it was dubious in winter, since any time estimates had to be derived not from the standard multiplication by the bushwhack factor (BWF), but instead by the dreaded postholing bushwhack factor (PBWF), in addition to the recent plague of the wind factor (MFWF). So it was unlikely that we would get many miles of running, but it was still more interesting than piling on road miles, again, and an alpine start (well, drive) from Nick's house would guarantee being done by noon. So I didn't want to miss out.

First up was a 700' climb in just over a mile, up the backside of Rist Canyon Road. This was just a warmup to get into the foothills...but first, let me give Rist Canyon Rd its due.

Rist Canyon

Rist Canyon is (in)famous around town for many reasons. Mostly, it's a popular cycling (if not motorcycling) road in decent weather; in fact, there's an annual road race. Not surprisingly, it's a popular training route -- to the consternation of local non-cycling residents, whose angry newspaper letters are also an annual occurrence. (Trying to be a peacemaker, my opinion remains Drivers, don't overdrive your viewing distance and Cyclists, single up and stay to the right). Training groups include not only the championship CSU cycling team, but also legends like the hiking boot man, who may or may not have been a pro cyclist.

Anyway, Rist Canyon showed up in popular bike route searches when we moved here in 2006, so the first weekend we were here, I was anxious to ride my aluminum steed along the classic Buckhorn-Rist loop, which ends up being a convenient 100k from my house. Ignorantly, I did the loop clockwise, which is essentially the wrong way, by ascending the nice straightaway and descending the switchbacks. I overshot the first switchback dramatically and was thankful for being safe -- and thus was introduced to the more serious cycling to be found in Colorado.

By descending the backside, which has nice views and a convenient runout to bleed off speed before the Stove Prairie intersection, it's easy to hit 50+ mph on the bike -- and I'm a lightweight, cautious descender. Others are able to crack 60. But I was even more surprised to learn of another subculture that was able to hit 70+ mph...

On a freaking skateboard!

Videos of this used to be available publicly online, and there was talk of organized and disorganized skating up there, but it seems skateboards draw public ire even more than spandex does, so they have to keep it underground. Keep on rollin', guys!

...

So that's Rist Canyon. Of course, people rarely get out to explore around the area, so I was intrigued to do so.

First up, along public Co Rd 41 heading South from the summit of Rist Canyon Road, is an open summit with a communication tower:

Followed by the summit of Buckhorn itself:

This was easy enough, with rewarding views -- the worst part was perhaps the ice on Co Rd 41.

Next up was Pt' 8415 and Mt. Ethel. Being located in heavy tree cover and shade, the snow was deeper -- often crotch-deep, which, although it's a relative measurement, serves the purpose (generally, and rarely, only superseded by "armpit deep") and the going was slow. But this summit was more photogenic and interesting, with a summit pole and random beer bottle on top. Since the summit, only slightly lower than neighboring Ethel, ended up being sufficiently interesting yet unnamed, Nick and I agreed to "Leila Peak", with Jessica's late, great-aunt Leila being a sister to her great-aunt Ethel. (Also, her late husband Clyde worked the railroad in the hills of Western Nebraska into Colorado).

Also at the summit was, unfortunately, constant wind, so we didn't linger too long. The route to Ethel was clearly visible, but was to involve significant travel through the forest. And, the quickest (or, at least shortest) descent was a direct downclimb:

Being in the shade and the wind was a bad deal with light gloves on, as my fingers froze while I still needed them for group. We were both anxious to be out of the wind and into the trees...only to deal with more breakable crust on top of deep snow.

More slogging, and eventually we made it to an unnamed subpeak connected to the Ethel Ridge, but still had another descent and climb up Ethel proper. I think we generally nailed the orienteering for the day up until this point, but we could have tacked more to the left and avoided some unnecessary elevation, at the expense of having been in the deeper snow in the trees. So, it was an extra-credit sub-summit.

More slogging over to Ethel, and we knew it would be the last summit of the day.

We did not find a rumored summit register, but it could very well have been buried in snow. All that remained was a final descent to Stove Prairie Road -- but it was also the longest stretch of tree cover and deep snow yet, occasionally slowed down further by some icy boulder downclimbing.

Finally, we popped out directly on Stove Prairie Road, and were ironically appreciative to be able to run on the road again, just about a mile from the car, although I didn't have feeling in either foot. At the intersection, we met local runners Wes and Debbie, who were friendly and have been running in the Stove Prairie area for years. They told us that Old Flowers Rd. was an icy mess, so I guess we didn't miss out on that.

All told, not many miles, but a fun day in the hills. Specificity for WS100 training? Not so much, but Nick's interest in peak-bagging gave me a secret idea about how to beat him at WS100 (you heard it here first) by distracting him...with another "special" summit list in June.

Milner and Bobcat Loop

~23Miles from Nick's House
Milner Mountain Summit (6881')
Pt. 7124 "Mahoney Knob" (proposed name)

Blurry view of Horsetooth Reservoir from Milner Summit

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More than 150 years before our town's most famous British-born ultrarunner moved his family here, the Milner Family emigrated from England and settled in the environs between Milner Mountain and Bobcat Ridge, including the Redstone and Buckhorn canyons. The details of their early life, and the surrounding geohistory, are a storied piece of Western history, with a local school being named after Sarah Milner (as pointed out by my wife), the first teacher in the first public school in Larimer County.
Most of the surrounding land is private, and I have no idea if it's possible, but since there are some ranch properties for sale in the area, any possible addition of this historic land to the Larimer County Natural Areas would be a remarkable way to preserve the area, especially the impressive summit of Milner Mountain.


Anyway, Nick proposed a loop around Bobcat Ridge -- which is my favourite natural area, but is an otherwise routine loop. To make it more interesting, though, he proposed some exploration of Milner Mountain, which lies, conveniently, between his house and Bobcat Ridge. This extra bit of adventure would allow us to visit a new summit, and was sure to enliven what would otherwise have been a 5-mile road trudge. He has more of the details of the summit, but nominally it requires sufficient routefinding and obtaining permission, with respect to local ranch properties.

On the West side of Milner, we enjoyed following Firethorn Drive, South of Masonville, as a new road to explore, which pops out almost directly across from the Bobcat Ridge entrance. We arrived with no other cars, horses, or people in sight, although this could probably be attributed to the constant blustery wind and overcast skies.

The climb up the Ginny Trail is always enjoyable, and Nick has remarked that the terrain and elevation changes are very similar to the WS100 trail, making it a great training ground. My legs felt good, but since I hadn't brought sunglasses, my eyes were getting blurry in the wind, and I was getting dizzy trying to focus on the trail. Time to get new sunglasses! This got better as soon as we shifted out of the wind and headed into the trees near Mahoney Park.

Now at the far NW edge of the Bobcat Ridge trail system, there's a prominent knob which I always thinking about heading up and tagging, but never have. Based on the climb from the valley, and previous views from Milner, we thought it might be the officially ranked highpoint of Green Ridge, so we decided to make a quick go at it, which was especially nice on non-rattlesnake season. There's a fun little summit block at the top, with great views, but clearly the higher (and even more interesting) summits of Green Ridge and nearby Spruce Mountain were further North. We saved those for another day, in what looks like could be a fun combo loop from the North (possibly even as far as Storm Mountain).

Distant view of Milner Mountain, from West

We finished up the loop with some remaining ice in the shady parts of the DR trail, but then had easy work on the lower, frozen mud (complete with frozen mt. bike tracks) of the Valley trail, before the final uphill road slog back to Nick's house, completing a fun and interesting loop.