Maroon Peak Trip Report 07/18/2014

Peak(s):	Maroon Peak - 14,163 feet North Maroon Peak - 14,022 feet
Date Posted:	07/18/2014
Modified:	10/29/2014
Date Climbed:	07/13/2014
Author:	mojah

My Bell Cord & Traverse Experience
So I'll start this off by stating that this has been my most ambitious mountaineering excursion to date. I moved to Crested Butte this last winter after spending about a year and a half in Montana and Idaho. Originally from Florida, my passion for climbing began with a trip to the rock wall at my university. Luke Mehall said it best in The Great American Dirtbags - "A climber can only go so far in the flatlands, before his soul resigns to the fact that he desires cliffs and mountain vistas." My dedication to climbing has waxed and waned since that first plastic-pulling gym experience, but it's always been there; and as of late, it had been sending tendrils of longing deep into my psyche. Before I know it, I'm in Colorado planning a bold (if I may say so myself) ascent of my first 14er. I depart from the Schofield Park trailhead at around 7 AM on July 12. I reach West Maroon Pass at 9 AM and the base of the Bell Cord around 11 AM. I set up camp at Crater Lake and spend part of the day relaxing around Maroon Lake and people watching. After refilling my 3L water bladder, I head back to camp, do a little reading, ponder about bears, toss and turn for a bit and fall asleep by 9 PM. S Maroon from W Maroon Pass Base of the Bell Cord From camp. Northeast ridge of N Maroon From Crater Lake. Camp is just below the talus field to the right. The Bells from Maroon Lake I'm up and out of camp by 3:30 AM and feel extremely lucky to have a full moon illuminating the landscape. An eerie grey light blankets the valley, and the Bells' silhouettes are visible in the darkness. The Garbage Chute had completely melted out, and I'm forced to make the trip around and back over to the Bell Cord. I feel great for most of the ascent, periodically taking in the sunrise as I climb, but by the time I reach the saddle at 8:30 AM, I feel spent. I take a quick snack break and am doubtful of being able to make the traverse. My initial plan had been to definitely make the South Maroon summit, and to make the decision to bail or continue depending on time and weather. Determined to at least make the South summit, I press on. The final climb to the top was as expected. Lots of loose rock and plenty of careful stepping and pulling on holds. Routefinding was a crapshoot, but never felt insurmountable. I summit at 9 AM. Elated, I consider my options. The weather was looking promising, and the last couple days had rendered late afternoon rain with no lightning. Seized by a second wind and fueled by adrenaline, I decide to go for the traverse. Poor selfie right before my phone died. Tried to get Crested Butte in the background, but got Gothic instead, which I hiked t Where the climb up the snowfield was the most physical taxing portion of the ascent, the traverse proves to be more mentally demanding. Routefinding remained a crapshoot, and I found myself descending to the saddle by a different route, finding myself cliffed out on one occasion and climbing back up to find a more suitable route down. Back at the saddle, I refocus. Growing more comfortable with the (lack of) stability of the rock, and more optimistic about climbing rather than downclimbing, I carry on. Despite the mental stress, it was the most exhilarating climbing I'd ever done. The exposure was thrilling, and the confident calm that I had to muster between sections was almost zen. I cross paths with a group of four at the first spire. We exchange some beta and words of encouragement, and we part ways. "Hopefully you won't see me on the news," I jest flatly as we pass. "Yeah, same for us." I gain the north summit at 11 AM. Here, the paradoxical adrenaline rush and zen-like serenity begin to ebb. Weary in both body and mind, I refocus again. I had budgeted a five hour descent, believing that to be a generous amount of time to set aside for it. Indeed, I had been ahead of schedule for the whole trip thus far. I start plodding down the northeast ridge of North Maroon, treading carefully over loose ground and following the cairns that marked the standard route as best I could. Halfway down the ridge however, I lost sight of any cairns that may have marked the way and found myself on one of the north face's many cliff bands still dripping with snowmelt. Unwilling to climb back up the slick class 4 rock that I had descended, I decide to traverse the cliffs, finding downclimbs where I could, with the aim of reaching the snowfield at the base of the cliffs. The never ending story of loose rock continues on the traverse. Fed up with the hellacious descent, I finally make it to the snowfield and glissade down. It's almost 4 PM by the time I reach camp. My ascent (left) and very off-route descent (right) By now, I'm out of food and almost out of water. Instead of making the five mile round trip hike to refill at the Maroon Lake trailhead, I decide to make the seven and a half mile hike back to my car instead. After a bit of rest, I strike camp and am on my way by 5:30 PM. Instantly, I know this will be an ordeal. Lead-footed, I trudge along the trail back up toward West Maroon Pass toward Crested Butte. By 9 PM, I'm still on the Aspen side, looking up at the pass in the dwindling light. I see a flash of lightning, hear the boom of thunder, and hail starts to fall. Dejected, I bivy up. I curl up in my sleeping bag underneath my tent fly and set an alarm for 3 AM. Despite the uneven ground and pelting hail, I sleep like a log. 3 AM comes quickly and I'm tempted to sleep in and wait for sunrise. On the other hand, I'm hell-bent on getting back in time before anyone gets worried. The plan had been to be comfortably at home in my own bed by 10 PM the night prior to be ready for work (landscaping) in the morning. I had told my boss and roommates to maybe start worrying if I wasn't back by Monday. Besides being exhausted, I was fine. I start up the trail and find myself only marginally reinvigorated. I lose the trail under a patch of snow under the overcast moon, but I continue along at my glacial rate up the pass; slowly but inexorably over mud and scree. I don't make the pass until 5 AM, but the worst is over. I'm back at my car at Schofield by 6:30 AM. I get home, call work, profusely apologize, chug water, and get myself a nice big breakfast burrito before sleeping the morning away. Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

My Bell Cord & Traverse Experience

So I'll start this off by stating that this has been my most ambitious mountaineering excursion to date. I moved to Crested Butte this last winter after spending about a year and a half in Montana and Idaho. Originally from Florida, my passion for climbing began with a trip to the rock wall at my university. Luke Mehall said it best in The Great American Dirtbags - "A climber can only go so far in the flatlands, before his soul resigns to the fact that he desires cliffs and mountain vistas." My dedication to climbing has waxed and waned since that first plastic-pulling gym experience, but it's always been there; and as of late, it had been sending tendrils of longing deep into my psyche. Before I know it, I'm in Colorado planning a bold (if I may say so myself) ascent of my first 14er.

I depart from the Schofield Park trailhead at around 7 AM on July 12. I reach West Maroon Pass at 9 AM and the base of the Bell Cord around 11 AM. I set up camp at Crater Lake and spend part of the day relaxing around Maroon Lake and people watching. After refilling my 3L water bladder, I head back to camp, do a little reading, ponder about bears, toss and turn for a bit and fall asleep by 9 PM.

From Crater Lake. Camp is just below the talus field to the right.

I'm up and out of camp by 3:30 AM and feel extremely lucky to have a full moon illuminating the landscape. An eerie grey light blankets the valley, and the Bells' silhouettes are visible in the darkness. The Garbage Chute had completely melted out, and I'm forced to make the trip around and back over to the Bell Cord. I feel great for most of the ascent, periodically taking in the sunrise as I climb, but by the time I reach the saddle at 8:30 AM, I feel spent. I take a quick snack break and am doubtful of being able to make the traverse. My initial plan had been to definitely make the South Maroon summit, and to make the decision to bail or continue depending on time and weather. Determined to at least make the South summit, I press on. The final climb to the top was as expected. Lots of loose rock and plenty of careful stepping and pulling on holds. Routefinding was a crapshoot, but never felt insurmountable. I summit at 9 AM. Elated, I consider my options. The weather was looking promising, and the last couple days had rendered late afternoon rain with no lightning. Seized by a second wind and fueled by adrenaline, I decide to go for the traverse.

Poor selfie right before my phone died. Tried to get Crested Butte in the background, but got Gothic instead, which I hiked t

Where the climb up the snowfield was the most physical taxing portion of the ascent, the traverse proves to be more mentally demanding. Routefinding remained a crapshoot, and I found myself descending to the saddle by a different route, finding myself cliffed out on one occasion and climbing back up to find a more suitable route down. Back at the saddle, I refocus. Growing more comfortable with the (lack of) stability of the rock, and more optimistic about climbing rather than downclimbing, I carry on. Despite the mental stress, it was the most exhilarating climbing I'd ever done. The exposure was thrilling, and the confident calm that I had to muster between sections was almost zen. I cross paths with a group of four at the first spire. We exchange some beta and words of encouragement, and we part ways. "Hopefully you won't see me on the news," I jest flatly as we pass. "Yeah, same for us." I gain the north summit at 11 AM.

Here, the paradoxical adrenaline rush and zen-like serenity begin to ebb. Weary in both body and mind, I refocus again. I had budgeted a five hour descent, believing that to be a generous amount of time to set aside for it. Indeed, I had been ahead of schedule for the whole trip thus far. I start plodding down the northeast ridge of North Maroon, treading carefully over loose ground and following the cairns that marked the standard route as best I could. Halfway down the ridge however, I lost sight of any cairns that may have marked the way and found myself on one of the north face's many cliff bands still dripping with snowmelt. Unwilling to climb back up the slick class 4 rock that I had descended, I decide to traverse the cliffs, finding downclimbs where I could, with the aim of reaching the snowfield at the base of the cliffs. The never ending story of loose rock continues on the traverse. Fed up with the hellacious descent, I finally make it to the snowfield and glissade down. It's almost 4 PM by the time I reach camp.

My ascent (left) and very off-route descent (right)

By now, I'm out of food and almost out of water. Instead of making the five mile round trip hike to refill at the Maroon Lake trailhead, I decide to make the seven and a half mile hike back to my car instead. After a bit of rest, I strike camp and am on my way by 5:30 PM. Instantly, I know this will be an ordeal. Lead-footed, I trudge along the trail back up toward West Maroon Pass toward Crested Butte. By 9 PM, I'm still on the Aspen side, looking up at the pass in the dwindling light. I see a flash of lightning, hear the boom of thunder, and hail starts to fall. Dejected, I bivy up. I curl up in my sleeping bag underneath my tent fly and set an alarm for 3 AM. Despite the uneven ground and pelting hail, I sleep like a log.

3 AM comes quickly and I'm tempted to sleep in and wait for sunrise. On the other hand, I'm hell-bent on getting back in time before anyone gets worried. The plan had been to be comfortably at home in my own bed by 10 PM the night prior to be ready for work (landscaping) in the morning. I had told my boss and roommates to maybe start worrying if I wasn't back by Monday. Besides being exhausted, I was fine. I start up the trail and find myself only marginally reinvigorated. I lose the trail under a patch of snow under the overcast moon, but I continue along at my glacial rate up the pass; slowly but inexorably over mud and scree. I don't make the pass until 5 AM, but the worst is over. I'm back at my car at Schofield by 6:30 AM. I get home, call work, profusely apologize, chug water, and get myself a nice big breakfast burrito before sleeping the morning away.

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

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