North Apostle 13,869 & Ice Mountain 13,960

 

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RT Length: 10.5 miles

Elevation Gain: 4000’

I seriously debated on whether or not this hike would even be possible today: I had to be home no later than 2pm because that’s when Troop 2393 was meeting at my house for the Reach for the Peak survival competition.  They train all year for this, and as their coach I didn’t want to disappoint them by making them late to the event.  I did the math and figured if I started hiking at 1am I’d make it back just in time.  It meant hiking and route finding for a long time in the dark, but I felt this was within my abilities.

I left my house at 10:00pm and drove to the trailhead. It took longer than anticipated on the 4WD part of the 390.2B dirt road due to running water (not a big deal) and mud puddles (looked bigger in the dark).

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Parking was at the Lake Ann / Clear Creek / Huron / South Winfield 4WD trailhead. I didn’t make it to the trailhead until 1:15am, but I was on the trail by 1:30am.  I set my alarm for 7am as a turnaround time.  There’s plenty of parking at this trailhead.

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The trail begins at the south end of the parking area, and follows the Lake Ann Trail

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The beginning part of this trail is easy to follow on a wide path

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At this junction stay left

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And enter the Collegiate Peaks Boundary at about .6 mi

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If it had been daylight I would have been able to see North Apostle and Ice Mountain here

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At 1.2 miles there’s another junction. Stay left here

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I quickly arrived at the next (unmarked) junction and turned right, crossing a creek in the dark on a solid log bridge.

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The trail was still easy to follow through the trees. I’d heard there was an avalanche area somewhere, but never saw it in the dark

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The real route finding began when the trail ended at the creek

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I spent about 15 minutes walking up and down the banks of the creek in the dark trying to find a way to cross, but was unable to find a log bridge (etc.). It looked like a bunch of logs and small trees had been used as a makeshift bridge recently, but it had washed out.  I found a few trees, tried to make a quick bridge and realized I was just wasting time, so I took off my shoes and crossed the creek.  There wasn’t a moon, but the stars tonight were amazing!

On my way back in the daylight I was able to find an actual crossing that didn’t require getting my feet wet. If you continue along the banks of the creek after the trail ends for about 200 feet you’ll find a large tree that creates a crossing.  There’s some walking through the willows to find the crossing.  Here’s where I found it:

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After crossing the creek I sat down to put on my shoes and then continued southeast up and around to the basin. There was no trail here, so I just had to skirt the mountainside and head up.  Also, I saw a flash of light and then it started to rain.  Violently.  There had only been a 20% chance of rain before noon today, and here it was at 3:30 in the morning pouring rain.  I put on my helmet and sheltered in place until the lightening stopped.  I was surprised the sky had been full of stars one minute, cloudy and stormy the next.

The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, but now everything was slippery and wet. This part of the hike required about a half mile of bushwhacking through the trees to make it to a waterfall area.  There were several game and social trails, but none of them were continuous or led up to the waterfall area.  I just kept hugging the mountainside, trekking southeast.

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I made it out of the trees to a rocky waterfall area (that was more of a slope than a fall) and rock-hopped up

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At the top of the waterfall area there are a bunch of willows and another stream to cross. The stream isn’t very wide, but it’s fast flowing and covered by willows.  By getting creative and using the willows I was able to find a crossing area here

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Once I crossed the creek I continued southeast into the basin. The only thing that made this difficult was route finding in the dark.  I wasn’t able to see the outlines of the mountains, or anything much that was further than 20 feet ahead of me.  I could hear rocks falling in the basin, and was glad I had already put on my helmet. I found a few cairns which were helpful to let me know I was on the right track.  In the light of day I figured out this area is very well cairned, but in the dark I only saw about 1 out of every 5.

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Here’s the route through the basin. I was doing this in the dark, so I just hugged the climbers left side of the basin (southeast)

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I rock hopped on solid rocks and then came to a scree section. This scree section actually wasn’t that bad because of the earlier rain:  scree provides great traction when wet.  The wet rocks were another story:  they were slippery and required patience.

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I encountered two small patches of snow. I had crampons and microspikes, but after testing the snow didn’t feel they were necessary and just walked across them.  I didn’t realize it in the dark, but I was aiming towards a rock ‘gate’.  Also, I could hear running water to my left.

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Once through the gate I turned left (east)

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And gained the saddle between North Apostle and Ice Mountain

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Once at the saddle I could summit either Ice Mountain or North Apostle, but chose North Apostle so I’d have a good view of Ice Mountain (class 3) on a class 2 route. Here’s the final push to North Apostle

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This as an easy class 2 route that took me less than 15 minutes to complete from the saddle. The sun was beginning to rise

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I summited at 6:15am

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North Apostle

I turned and looked at the class 3 route up Ice Mountain. I knew I was a little pressed for time:  my turnaround time was 7am, and it was already 6:15am.  I didn’t stay long on North Apostle and worked my way carefully back towards the saddle, being careful not to slip on the wet rocks.

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From the North Apostle/Ice Mountain Saddle the first obstacle was this section of climbing. I stuck to the ridge and didn’t find it difficult

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I rounded the ridge and dipped down just a bit to a notch, crossed the notch, and headed up the solid and cairned route up the ridge. My alarm went off.  Drat.  It was 7am, and I was so close to the summit!  I went back and forth in my head a few seconds, realized I’d started later than I’d planned, so surely I wasn’t at my halfway point yet?  I could squeeze in another 20 minutes and still be fine, right?  My math here was iffy, but I figured I was less than 15 minutes from the summit:  I’d find a way to make up the time.  Surely route finding would be much easier in the daylight?  That would help… right?

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Here are some closer pictures

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I came to a gully and took the solid route up and the dotted line down. The solid route felt sketchy to me (which is why I took the other way down). I don’t think either was better than the other.

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I summited at 7:10am.

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Ice Mountain

Here’s a look back on the route up to North Apostle

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Ok, had no time to waste so I didn’t stay long at the summit. I decided to head down a slightly different way than I’d headed up.

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Before making it to the saddle I found it easier to just begin descending a gully towards the gates I hadn’t seen in the dark

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Here’s looking up at the way I came down from Ice Mountain

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Ok, time to go through the gate and head back down the basin. This was so much easier in the daylight!  I was definitely going to be able to make it back to my truck by 11am.

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The running water I’d heard earlier was a trickle of a waterfall down the side of the mountain that was flowing beneath the rocks I was hopping.

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I made it to the first patch of snow and misjudged its texture, thinking it would be similar to how it was when I crossed 2 hours ago: solid but soft enough to provide traction.  I stepped on the snow and immediately slipped, flailing my arms and flying backwards, landing on my tailbone.  That wasn’t snow but ice, and it was solid.  It felt like I’d landed my tailbone on a rock.  OUCH!  I knew as soon as I hit this was not good.  I jumped up, glad to find nothing was broken and I could stand, and did what I always do in this kind of a situation:  I kept moving.  The first fifty yards or so were painful, but then just became uncomfortable and it only hurt when I upclimbed.  Eventually it stopped hurting altogether and just became a nuisance.  I could tell it was going to bruise and it would be sore for a few weeks, but immediately walking it out seems to be the best policy for me.

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All those cairns! I was so glad to see them all in the daylight!  I rounded the end of the basin and had a great view of 14er Huron Peak as well as the rest of the route to the trail.

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Route finding was much easier in the daylight on my way back down, but still an exercise in bushwhacking and following my compass. At least now I had visuals to help

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The only problem with walking through all the grass and shrubs were they were still wet from the rain, and even though I have waterproof boots they were soaked through at this point. I was debating if it was even worth it to take off my boots for the creek crossing (decided in the end it was because stream water dries with a terrible stench) when I saw a felled tree crossing the creek.  I crossed the creek on this tree and then walked through the willows a bit by the bank of the creek to eventually link back up with the trail.  The rest of the hike out was uneventful and absolutely beautiful.  I was able to enjoy the blue skies and greenery without the nuisance of mosquitoes.  I saw a pair of hikers about 2 miles from the trailhead, but that was it for people for the whole day.

It had been my goal to make it back to my truck by 11am, and I was able to make it down by 10:40am, keeping me right on track to be home by 2pm so I could take a shower and pack before the girls all arrived. (For those wondering, they won the Eagle Award).

I made it back to my truck at 10:40am and went to stop my tracker, only to find it had stopped on its own 3.7 miles into the hike. I’m not sure why it stopped (maybe the rain?), but I don’t have a track for this climb, so I’m going by my iPhone app when I say it was about 10.5 miles and using the 4000’ in elevation gain as an approximate from topo maps and guide books.  This hike took me just over 9 hours to complete.

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Fletcher Mountain  – 13,943 & Drift Peak 13,915

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RT Length

Elevation Gain: 2777’

I was a bit worried about today’s hike.  After hiking Stewart Peak with frozen feet last Tuesday I found this rock in my right hiking boot.

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I’m not sure how long during the hike it had been there, but it had apparently rested under the ball of my right toe for quite some time.  I know this because for the past 2-3 days I’ve had a hard time walking without pain.  My foot wasn’t red or swollen, but I couldn’t walk on it normally, and it hurt to massage it.  I researched my symptoms, and Google told me I did something to the joint.  Ironically the way to treat it was to either exercise it, rest it, or take Ibuprofen.  I don’t rest and I don’t take medication if I can avoid it, so I decided to get some exercise (but not too much).

So for today I picked a moderate class 3 hike that was supposed to be about 6 miles in length with around 3000’ of elevation gain in a heavily trafficked area so if something went wrong I’d have a better chance of finding help.

I woke up at 2am (woohoo!  It’s like I slept in!) and made it to the trailhead at 5am.  There was one other car in the parking lot but as I was getting ready someone pulled up and asked me if we were at the Quandary Trailhead.  Technically we were, but it’s the trailhead for the more dangerous West Ridge route, and I figured by looking at them they were looking for the East Ridge Route, so I gave them directions back to the lower trailhead.  For so many reasons sorry not sorry if I’d been wrong.

Here’s a view of the 2WD dirt road in and the parking area

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It was dark when I started out.  I crossed my fingers and started my new tracker, walked to the right to the hill where the gate and dam meet and noticed this sign:

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There’s a trail here that follows the lake.  I took it for longer than I should’ve and quickly noticed my mistake:  I was too far south.  In the dark where I was supposed to turn didn’t look safe so I’d continued along the lake looking for another trail that headed up.  Luckily there were several social trails that headed north towards the correct trail.  I found one that was most likely more difficult than the first and was soon back on route.  Here’s where you’re supposed to turn right and climb the hill.

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Here’s where I joined the trail

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The trail up through the basin is easy to follow (even in the dark).  The trail gained elevation very gradually and my right foot throbbed with every step.

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Here’s the route I took through the basin and up over to 12,500’

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Once the trail ends it’s heavily cairned and easy to follow, even in the dark.  I wasn’t able to see the red gully, but it was still the obvious trail to follow.  As I gained in elevation and the route became steeper my foot curiously stopped hurting.

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After the red gully there were large boulders and rocks to hike around, with lots of carins to help out with route finding.

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When I reached the top of the basin I turned around.  Quandary’s west ridge looked amazing in the morning light!

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Ahead of me I could see Fletcher Mountain

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There was no trail, but the route to the summit was obvious.  Here’s the route I took

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You want to stick to the left of the ridge because there are steep drop offs to the right.  The rocks aren’t stable but they won’t fall on you either, they’ll just roll.  About half way up it started getting tricky: I was curiously slipping with every step!  That wasn’t right?  I have great shoes that usually grip everything.  It seemed there was a thin layer of ice on the rocks I couldn’t see but which made hiking without slipping nearly impossible.  Yes, I resorted to a kind of forward crawl where I had at least 3 points of contact the entire time.  I probably looked silly with my butt in the air but I wasn’t slipping and falling. And there wasn’t anyone around to see…

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I made it to the summit at 7am and had a great view of Quandary (it looked cold up there!).  The wind was intense and made it much colder than it should have been.  Here’s my summit photo

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And video:

The cloud above Quandary worried me, but the wind was blowing east and I was headed west so I decided to just keep an eye on the weather.  Otherwise it was a perfect morning!

I looked to the southeast at my next goal

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The hike down Fletcher towards the saddle was just as awkward as the hike up (I kind of spider crawled due to the ice) but by the time I’d made it to the saddle the ice was pretty much gone.  Here’s the view of Drift (left) and Fletcher (right) from the saddle

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This is a great place to put your helmet on (and keep it on until you make it back here).  The beginning part of the ridge for Drift wasn’t too difficult.  I just gained the ridge and followed it

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From the picture below you want to stop following the ridge and turn right (north) to bypass the crux of the route (if you continue on the ridge you’ll encounter steep drop-offs and need to turn around)

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You’re looking for and aiming towards a large round bolt in the route.  It’s about 5 inches in diameter, and visible from a good ways away if you know where to look.  I’ve circled the bolt in the pictures below

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When you make your way to the bolt you’ll see by facing north how to drop into the gully.

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This is kind of a chimney, and gets you ready for the more serious climbing ahead

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Oh, did I mention the rocks were now icy again?  Here’s a better view of the ice

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From here I had to re-gain the ridge.  I crossed the gully, located the lighter gray colored rocks, and headed up.

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There are several routes to regain the ridge but if you stay on the lighter gray rock you should be fine.  Did I mention this was steep?  Seriously steep and slippery (due to the ice) and definitely Class 3+.  Several times I thought how helpful a rope wouldn’t been…

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But once I gained the ridge all I had to worry about was ice and wind as I crossed the easy path to the summit. The rocks weren’t stable but they weren’t a problem to navigate.  Just be careful for rolled ankles.

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Well, easy if the wind wasn’t blustering at 40mph and there wasn’t a thin layer of ice on the rocks.  I was very cold and honestly crab-walked over the slippery rocks to the summit, afraid with the wind and ice I’d slip and fall.  But I made it!  I summited at 8:15am.  I couldn’t smile because my lips were frozen… I tried though.

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Video:

Here’s a look back at the ridge

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I was cold and my fingers were starting to freeze so I didn’t stay on the summit long. I knew I’d need some dexterity in my fingers to make it back down the light gray rocks.  I followed the easy ridge back and braced myself to downclimb back into the gully.  The first few sections were fun and I was easily able to navigate the large boulders.  Until I reached this point

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This is where I fell.  Well, I didn’t actually fall, more like slid for about 4 feet (scarier when it’s actually happening than it sounds reading about it).  You see, everything was once again covered in a thin layer of ice, and there were no foot/hand holds available.  None.  I know, I was looking.  I was in a spot that (due to the ice) offered very little in the way of help for the situation I was in.  There were a few patches of moss that I tried to use, but naturally they weren’t stable and quickly crumbled out from under my shoes.  And that ice didn’t help at all!  I knew I was going to slip and slide eventually, so I tried to minimize the acceleration as much as possible before and as it happened by hugging the rocks and leaning forward.  When I slid I was able to stop myself on a ledge about 3 inches wide and 6 inches long, stabilize myself, take a deep breath, and continue downclimbing.  I’d bruised my right shin (just a little scrape with minor bleeding) and I had a hole in my pants at my shin, but I was proud of myself for not turning this into a worse situation.  Here’s the section where I slid.  From top of the circle to the bottom is about 10 feet.

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I couldn’t go to the left or right because it was actually steeper in those sections and led to larger drop-offs.  This looked less steep when I was first climbing down, and the moss and lichen looked to be on larger/actual holds, or I wouldn’t have attempted it.  In hindsight, before I was downclimbing this area I should have retraced my steps to where I climbed up (as I knew there were adequate hand and footholds in that area).

Once I was on more stable ground I took a look around:  I needed to find that chimney to head back.  Here you can see it from across the gully

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I headed towards the chimney, climbed it, turned right and headed back to the ridge, knowing the worst was behind me.  I made it back to the saddle and saw no reason to re-summit Fletcher, so I turned right and headed down the middle of the basin towards Quandary.

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Once again, no trail, just rocks.  Luckily, while the rocks weren’t stable they also weren’t icy.  I felt humbled by the enormity of the rock field and my small place in it.

VIDEO:

As I descended into the basin the beauty caused me to pause.  This is truly a gorgeous area!  I’ll be coming back to attempt Quandary’s West Route someday.

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I followed the cairns down and around the several small ponds I’d missed in the dark.

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I stayed here much longer than I should have, but it was worth it for the views!  The red gully was clearly visible in the daylight

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And those ponds and streams are much deeper than they look.  For such narrow streams at a high elevation I was surprised they were 4-5 feet deep.

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Exiting the basin was an easy walk.  At this point I noticed my foot didn’t hurt anymore.  I guess exercise was the answer!  I passed an old mine

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Turned the corner to take one last picture of the basin (I may frame this)

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and:  Goats!  I love running into goats on the trail!  This herd had several kids.  All adorable

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Video:

I made it back to my truck at 11am, making this a 6.4 mile hike/climb in 6 hours. Oh, and my tracker had worked!  It said I’d climbed 2777’ in elevation, which I thought was pretty close to the 2800’ I’d been expecting.   Now I just need to figure out how to save and transfer the GPX file to my computer. I was not happy with my time, but considering I’d crawled for a good portion of it due to ice I wasn’t too upset either.  And I’d stayed safe. And I’d seen goats!

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Here’s my route on a topo map