Quandary Peak, CO

My second 14er hike started pretty much like the last one - up before sunrise (to beat the afternoon thunderstorms) and a yummy microwaved sausage & egg croissant sandwich (to keep my energy going). The major difference being that I had flew into Denver (5,300 ft) and drove up to Breckenridge (9,600 ft) the day before as opposed to hanging out around 6,000 ft for 4 days before attempting a hike. Eugene is about 500 ft above sea level. Oh yes, and we might have had a few glasses of wine the night before with dinner....

The route that we are taking is considered a Class I hike, 6.75 miles roundtrip and elevation gain of 3,450 ft. Almost immediately, my lungs felt the impact of the altitude as we began our ascent through the pine forest. Lucky for me, Sam was the other "low-lander" in our group to share in the joy with me. A half a dozen old mining trails criss-crossed the first mile of forest. The crisp morning air was occasionally interrupted with chickorees (squirrels) calling to each other. As the sun broke across the neighboring mountains and forest, we began to shed layers of long-sleeveed shirts and warm pants. Jen would mark a point on her GPS to follow our progress at various breaks throughout the day.

As we ascended higher onto the mountain, surrounding mountain tops come into view. Valleys with massive mountains on either side stretched into the horizon to the southeast and southwest of us. Below, several small lakes glittered in the sunlight. One small resevoir below had a long band of white marble peeking through the rockside. above us, the summit hovered above the scree and talus fields that lay ahead.

About 13,900 ft, altitude sickness started kicking in. We were less than a mile from the summit but the increasing nausea made progress slow and arduous. The talus and scree slope wasn't particular steep nor difficult to navigate. But the nausea made short breaks a necessity every 15-20 steps. Groups of hikers were passing us, young and old, yet there was nothing I could do to make the nausea go away and the ascent more expedient. I didn't want to slow the group down, knowing that afternoon thunderstorms are on their way, so I would signal my friends to go ahead of me. Each time, they only shook their head and continued to encourage me to keep going. What great friends I have!!!

Less than 100 feet from the summit, I began to take much deeper breaths to take in as much oxygen as possible. Distracting myself with this newfound routine seemed to help the nausea subside. At the same time, the slope began to ease a bit as we approached the summit, where many other hikers have already made their way up. I was able to actually start having conversations with my friends again without feeling like my breakfast was going to explode through my throat.

Around 11:30am or so, we joined other hikers at the summit register recording our names, dates, and home towns. Being a popular hike, there were about 30-40 people spread all across the summit at any given time. The view south revealed 14ers Mt. Bross, Mt. Lincoln, and Mt. Democrat. The northern view revealed a large basin anchored by Crystal and Pacific Peaks with the Gore Range in the distance. A black ski lift tower several peaks over marked the top of Peak 10 in Breckenridge. Peering towards the east ridge, several hikers could be seen ascending the rock gendarmes along the Class III hike option.

Several photo opportunities and a Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter PowerBar later, we began our descent to avoid the omnious black clouds advancing towards us. Long stretches of rock stairs made the descent quicker and easier although many hikers were still trudging their way up the trail. We wondered if they would summit before the imminent storm hit. Our footsteps were much lighter and our joke-cracking louder now. I would look back toward the summit on occasion only to see giant black clouds casting shadows over the peak. The pikkas we saw darting around the talus fields were fewer and farther in between. They must've known that a storm was approaching. We had barely reached timberline when I felt the first drops of rain. We hurried our way down the trail as occasional rain drops and cold wind breached the sky. By 2pm, we were safely back in the comfort of the truck, relaxing in barefeet and headed back to town.

Diamond Peak

On August 11, 2007, D and I hiked Diamond Peak. At 8774 feet, Diamond Peak is the 16th tallest peak in Oregon. Our hike began around 8:40am, after a 1.5 hr drive from Eugene to Crescent Lake, and then driving up 8 miles of bumpy, gutted Road 6160 to the Summit Lake trail head. We nearly missed the trail head sign, which was marked "Windigo Pass 13/Diamond Peak Wilderness ->/ Willamette Pass 17". The temperature was about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, but the mosquitos started attacking as soon as we were out of the truck. Not to mention, my new backpack was soaked through with water that had leaked from one of the water bladders I had brought. Not exactly the way I had wanted to start the day.

The first 3.3 miles of the PCT was through a forest of lodgepole pines and small ponds/lakes. With the exception of an occasional sneak peak at Diamond Peak from the south, you wouldn't know that we were only about 6 miles from the summit. This part of the trail was relatively flat. In just over an hour, we were at the Rockpile Lake/Marie Lake junction crossing. Another 1.2 miles through much of the same scenery, we arrived at a glorious viewpoint with views south to Summit Lake, Cowhorn Mountain, Sawtooth Mountain, and Mt. Thielsen. An exposed rock pile here with relatively flat granite rocks made a great resting point. This was also the final "easy" section before the actual "hard" ascent began.

A few yards from the viewpoint, D spotted the rock cairn that marked the beginning of our detour from the PCT and ascent to the summit. This was also one of the few places where we saw tall, pink flowers growing along the trail. The marked change in elevation gain took effect almost immediately. Breathing became harder and more frequent breaks were required. This was going to be a very long 2 miles... Not too far onto this open ridge, the forest started to thin out as timberline drew closer. Pretty soon, the dry pine forest gave way to red lava rocks and sand, with a few bushes and small trees scattered here and there. Even with our trekking poles, the slippery slope made it challenging to keep our footing. We would later find out that this was the easier part. It must've took us at least an hour to hike up this section. At each small break, I'd look back south toward where we were just minutes before. The view only got better and better. We were starting to see more and more of the valley below us. Crescent Lake and Odell Butte to the east, and unknown hills and exposed old clear cuts were visible to the east. From cairn to cairn, we trekked slowly up the mountain. We would look up toward the ridge top dreaming of the rewarding view at the top and how great it will feel once we get there. Cairn to cairn, one by one. Cairn to cairn, one after the other. I wondered how the pine marten that we saw managed to dart around in this kind of terrain.

A long, snow field was situated in gully to our west. As we ascended up the south side, an occasional cold breeze would blow in from the west. We could see what laid ahead of us - more scree, but the granite, very slippery, very sandy kind. We were about 1/4 mile from the ridge crest when the grey, slippery, sandy scree began. Each step up meant another 1/2 step slide down because of the slippery slope. Certain sections here were near vertical. I guessed that the angle we were climbing was anywhere between 65-75 degrees. Although the exposure wasn't bad at all, the steepness of the climb started to have an effect on my acrophobia. At one point, I asked D to stay closer to me because I felt like I was going to slip and fall along the way. We finally reached the ridge top after what seemed like forever.

This was a great place to catch our breath. A small rock wall shielded us from the wind blowing from the southwest while we snacked on trail mix and enjoyed the views. Here, we could see the trail toward the false summit with the gendarmes and the eastern slope of Diamond Peak. The eastern slope is made up of pointy, sharp-looking rock spires at the top and long, steep glaciers on the slopes that stretched toward Odell and Crescent Lakes. It was difficult to gauge just how far the actual summit was since it was hidden by the grade. The rocks and dirt here began to resemble chunks of red/pink chalk and chalk dust. White, puffy clouds were floating by as I snapped up more pictures of this beautiful day. Just reaching this point was making me even more excited about the summit that lay ahead.

We started to trek across the saddle and immediately ran into a dead end at the first gendarme. We realized that though this was a popular viewpoint, it didn't lead to the summit. The actual summit trail was about 6 feet below us on the eastern slope. We backtracked about 15 feet and found our way down. As we re-approached the first gendarme from the lower trail, D became concerned that the only way around might represent too much exposure for my acrophobia to handle. So I stepped ahead of him and peeked ahead at the route. With a little maneuvering, I easily made my way around the rock by clinging onto cracks in the rock and stepping around. The next two gendarmes were similar and just as easy to get around with a little scrambling. At the false summit, the rocks were entirely pink/red against the blue sky. It was like looking at a giant reddish upside-down ice cream cone. Near the top was a small brass memorial that marked the life of an earlier climber in 1974. We looked back at the trail we came once again before making our final push for the summit.

Less than 1/2 mile later, we made our mark. This was D's 2nd ascent, the last time being when he was a teenager, and the first for me. After we hugged each other to celebrate, I dug out the red tin can that hid the summit register where others before us had made their mark. The register was basically a mish mash of miscellaneous note pads and pencils in a broken glass jar. I wrote our names in the register, took a picture for my scrapbook, and proceeded to enjoy the 360 view. To the north, I could see two of the Three Sisters, Three Finger Jack, a faint Mt. Hood, Waldo Lake, and the bare ski runs at Willamette Pass where I've snowboarded many times before. The very top of Mt. Yoran near where D and I visited Divide Lake two weeks prior was also visible to the northwest. Of course the Summit Lake and beyond view that we had been enjoying the entire route up came full circle. Though there wasn't a geological marker at the top like many other peaks, we figured that we had gained about 3100 ft in elevation. We spent some time exploring, taking pictures and goofy video clips for about a half hour before beginning our descent.

The descent went by much quicker than the ascent earlier but my footsteps felt so much lighter now that we've conquered the summit even though my toes were being crushed against my boots each time gravity took over each step. Although we took GPS markings earlier to make sure we wouldn't miss the PCT corner on the way down, the rock cairns and pink marker ribbons helped us find our way back to the PCT, to the exact spot we left even! Another break here on the flat rocks to relieve our feet and rest while we watched a golden mantel nibble on its loot. The last mile of the trail seemed to have taken forever. The small ponds and lakes we saw during the first part of the hike earlier in the day now seemed to be mocking our tired bodies. At one point, D joked if new ponds had cropped up while we were gone.

Nine hours and 57 minutes, 12 roundtrip miles of pine forest, scree, lava rocks, and 3,104 of elevation gain/loss later, we returned to Summit Lake trail head where D's truck and two cold beers awaited us in the cooler...