Pemi West 2004 Compiled Newsletters (including high school program and adult program)
Pemi West Newsletter #1
July 6th, 2004
Hello from Crested Butte!
I am in town for half a day to pick up more supplies and food for the group. As
I speak, the crew is finishing a trail building project in the alpine meadows
high above the East Fork of the Crystal River, a few hours hike from base camp.
It is a spectacular location to say the least, and numerous wildlife has
already been sighted, including elk, deer, coyotes, marmots, golden eagles, and
more. The group is proving to be extremely hardworking, and if all goes well
today, they will have finished maintaining about a quarter mile stretch of
trail in serious need of repair. This afternoon, they will return to base camp
to resupply for the next expedition to Mounts Treasure and Treasury where they
will learn the fundamentals of travel in mountainous terrain, including how to
navigate safely on snow. The Treasure/Treasury area
is well known for holding snow well into summer.
We began the course with two days of rock climbing at some local crags.
Despite a night of continuous hard rain, we were still able to get in great
climbs on the second day. Vistas from the top of the cliffs showed that the
heavy rain we had received fell as snow in the mountains. Thankfully, that has
all melted now, but temperatures have continued to be cold, with heavy frosts
in the morning, and occasional hail storms in the afternoon and night!
After our rock climbing segment, we spent two days becoming certified in
wilderness first aid, and I am happy to say that all passed the course and are
fully certified. Christina and I feel very safe hiking with your sons and
daughters!
The group is coming together well as a team, and this will be crucial as we
move into the more challenging wilderness portion of the program. They are
already planning their food rations and cooking fully independently of me and
Christina.
I will try to be in touch again before the end of the program, but with any
luck, if I bring back enough food again today, I won't have to return to town
until the end of the program. Hope your summers are going well. Please
forward this message to anyone who is not on the list of addresses above and
who you think should be receiving it.
-Tim
P.S. A few letters have been coming in to Crested Butte. If you wish to send
mail to your son or daughter, our address is: Pemi West, camper's name,General
Delivery, Crested Butte, CO 81224. In case of emergency, you can contact Rob
Grabill at Pemi.
Pemi West Newsletter # 2
July 12th, 2004
Hi again from Crested Butte!
This will be a quick and final update before we head off on our final
expedition to climb Snowmass and do our 24 hour solo. We have just returned
from a fabulous five-day circumnavigation of 13,500 ft. Mount Treasury, where
we have begun to rotate through each participant as "leader of the day".
Charlie Shiverick led us out of basecamp on a challenging cross country route
and made the tough decision to camp at an unplanned site in the face of a
threatening thunderstorm. He took his job seriously and set a high leadership
standard for the others to follow. The next day Sarah Graves volunteered as
leader, and led us expertly over an icy avalanche track which cut right across
the trail down into a deep gorge. We fixed ropes here for safety and Sarah led
the way across attached to the rope and making sure the others returned safely
to the trail on the other side. Later that day we began learning snow skills
in earnest as we all practiced self-arrest techniques using our ice axes on a
large and safe snowfield on Purple Mountain (while a peregrine falcon nesting
on the cliffs of Treasury swooped over our heads!). Johanna Zabawa woke us all
at 3:30 the next morning for a spectacular predawn climb of Mt. Treasury. She
confidently led us under the stars picking a safe route over broken rock and at
times pausing to cut steps for the group on an icy snowfield. At one point a
ptarmigan, invisible to us in the darkness, streaked through the basin
shrieking its dawn song and reminding us that we were truly in the alpine zone,
the land of snow and rock. We stopped briefly on the long ridge to the summit
plateau to greet a spectacular sunrise over the Maroon Bells. In the early
morning light, the group switchbacked up the ridge to the football field-like
plateau, replete with its rock polygons and Arctic plants, a landscape more
characteristic of the Arctic tundra than the Rockies. A knife-edge spine of
rock, requiring full concentration, led us from the plateau to the high summit
where, for the first time, we could really get a sense of our surroundings; the
terrain already traversed, as well as that to come. In a 360 degree sweep, we
could see the red sandstone layers of the Maroon Bells, the lush green valleys
of the upper East Fork of the Crystal and Schofield Park, the red scree of Mt.
Baldy, the craggy summit of Purple Peak with it’s snow filled basins, the long
glacier carved Yule Creek Valley, its sinuous water-way snaking through the
bottom, the long ridge of Treasure Mountain with huge cornices to the Northwest
of us, and finally, the grey granite mass of Snowmass Mountain, the climbing
objective of our next expedition. Flocks of rosy finches flew back and forth
on the cliffs below us, their nests on craggy perches 1000 feet above North
Pole Basin. Rosy finches, rare in the past, seemed unusually common this year.
At 9:30 AM, we prepared for the long descent back to camp, carefully retracing
our steps down the ridge, collecting fossils along the way, and working our way
to the top of a long snowfield. Here, a long glissade dropped us another 500
ft. to begin the traverse across moderate talus slopes back to our campsite at
Yule Pass. Noble MacFarlane awoke us equally early the next day under grey and
rainy weather to begin a challenging ascent of the 13,000 foot pass between
Mts. Treasure and Treasury with full packs on our backs. Though a goat track is
visible crossing the pass from across the valley, the trail proves itself to be
unfit for humans, and an intricate route of careful switchbacks, a protected
ledge, and a notch, finally followed by a straight climb over steep grass to
the ridge, provide the key to this route. Much scouting was needed to find this
route and indeed, the route to the pass, and Noble rose expertly to the
challenge. He then led us on a long snow glissade through the spectacular
cirque of Bear Basin, past one of the largest remaining glaciers in the area
and down to a safe campsite just below treeline in the lower basin. The next
day was devoted to learning more skills. We honed our rockclimbing skills some
more with bouldering and top-rope climbing on the pink granite slabs and cliffs
of Bear Basin (with the rock "chimneys" and cornices of Treasure up-valley
above us, and views across the deep valleys to Snowmass in the distance!). We
also practiced building snow anchors, a skill that could come in handy on our
next trip to climb Snowmass Mountain. Jake Kring led us expertly up out of
Bear Basin and through a secret passage constructed by miners long ago in the
cliff band separating North Pole Basin from Bear Basin. In a mock first aid
scenario in North Pole Basin, Jake proved adept at delegating tasks and
organizing a mock rescue. He then organized a campfire for us last night in
basecamp using low impact techniques which will prevent the ground from being
sterilized by fire and will eliminate any trace of our presence after we leave.
Many songs were shared, as well as a recital from memory of the "Cremation of
Sam Magee" by Jake himself.
Today is a layover day in base camp and there are no leaders of the day. Most
likely Abby Reed will lead us off tomorrow with the tough task of motivating
the group out of basecamp and across high passes as we head out on the two day
trek to the base of Snowmass. Ben Bishop has proven to be an expert at
spotting wildlife, including elk and 15 goats on the steep slopes above Bear
Basin. We look forward to his leadership day too. And last, but not least,
Mike Craig will take his turn at leadership in a few more days. A mock first
aid scenario yesterday demonstrated Mike's strong leadership and confidence in
first aid situations. The group is in good spirits and working well as a team.
Christina and I are having a blast with the group and the time is flying by for
us too. The weather has by and large been cooperative and is supposed to be
fairly stable this week, so wish us luck as we head out again!
Enjoy your summers!
Tim
Pemi West Newsletter #3:
We will pick up with the high schoolers on July 12th, our basecamp layover day.
I returned from town to find our team engrossed in an orienteering course set
up by Christina. As it turned out, each compass checkpoint on the course
contained a surprise item to be contributed to Sarah’s birthday party (candles,
a card, chocolate, etc.)! Ah yes, the perfect excuse for a cookout and ice
cream! It couldn’t have tasted better at this point in the course! Sarah would
not turn 17 for a few more days, but she would end up celebrating in an even
grander way on her actual birthday, as you will see…This was the beginning of
the last and in some ways, most challenging expedition: After reviewing the
maps and routes with Abby Reed on the evening July 12th, our esteemed leader
(Abby) awoke early on the 13th to rouse the group for the trek over Frigid Air
Pass. In so doing she caught me and Christina awake and packing up early!!
Little did she know that when she came back to talk to us again, we would be
gone! Today marked the beginning of the “group solo,” a Pemi West tradition
where the instructors leave the group to their own devices for a day or two
(while remaining close by, but hidden in case of emergency). This was a mean
trick, to say the least, to play on our unsuspecting leader! But, Abby, with
her impeccable organization skills and attention to detail, motivated the group
to get up and moving in a timely manner. With camp packed up and cleaned up,
and food for our final expedition packed, Abby led the group out and onto the
trail for the long hike over the 12,500 foot Frigid Air Pass. Walking the
beautiful trail that Pemi has maintained over the seven years of Pemi West’s
existence, Abby kept a close eye on impending storms and moved the group
quickly and confidently over the pass. Keeping the group together, Abby forged
the way down the sweeping, glacially sculpted slopes of Fravert Basin, in the
shadow of the red sandstone layers of the 14,000 ft. Maroon Peak. A campsite
on the North Fork of the Crystal River at the base of a waterfall proved an
excellent choice for the night, and put us in good stead for the next leg of
our journey, led the following day by Mike Craig.
Christina and I returned to the group on Mike’s leadership day, as he motivated
us on a grueling 2000 ft. climb to Trail Rider Pass. Keeping the group
together and hiking at a sustainable pace, Mike kept careful track of how
everyone was doing often using his unique sense of humor to keep our minds off
the physical exertion caused by our heavy packs and steep trail. A short break
for lunch preceded the final push to the pass, with thunderstorms closing in.
An evaluation of the deteriorating weather, our “bail out” options, and our
proximity to the pass led us to conclude that we could push over the pass and
to safety before storms hit. This carefully calculated decision proved to be
sound, and Mike kept the group moving at a brisk pace over the pass and down to
safer terrain. A long trek down to the tourquoise waters of Snowmass Lake took
us to a makeshift campsite hidden in small trees and bushes on less than flat
ground just uphill from the start of the climber’s trail. This put us in
perfect position for our attempt on Snowmass. With a weather report predicting
worsening weather patterns later in the week, we realized that Mike’s decision
to get us over the pass that afternoon, might end up being the determining
factor in our ability to attempt the mountain. Thus, we set down to cooking
dinner and getting into bed as early as possible so that we would be fresh for
the early morning ahead of us.
While most everyone settled down to prepare dinner, Ben Bishop and I added to
our day’s hike by beginning a new hike up the climber’s trail of Snowmass
Mountain. Ben would be leader of the day the following morning. It was
crucial that he know the route up this long talus slope and stream crossing to
the grassy slopes that would take us into the upper basin, as we would be
starting out the following morning in complete darkness. Based on what he saw
and looking at maps of the mountain, Ben decided on a wakeup time of 3 AM and
informed the group accordingly.
Under the bright stars and cold air of July 15th, Sarah’s 17th birthday, Ben
roused the group from its sleep. With a nervous and excited fervor in the air,
our attempt to attain an elevation of over 14,000 ft. was beginning. Ben led
us in darkness expertly and safely up the talus slope, constantly turning
around to make sure 9 other bobbing headlamps were following him. Christina
commented that from below, the headlamps looked rather like bright stars moving
upwards to a place among the real stars! Looking carefully for the key stream
crossing that would lead us out onto the grassy slopes which were our conduit
to the upper basin of Snowmass, Ben found the spot, and we were on our way to
the high, snowy cirque. An orange sunrise appeared behind us as our first
views of the summit appeared. The white granite and snowfields of the upper
peak took on a peach colored hue. As the first people on the peak this day, we
forged a path across granite slabs and snowfields and finally onto the steep
upper snowfield below the summit ridge. Confronted with a blank wall of snow,
devoid of footprints or tracks of any kind, it appeared that we were the first
to climb the peak in a while. We forged a path up the steep snow, kicking
steps and planting our axes for safety. With snow patterns that change from
year to year, the route onto the rocky ridge is a tricky one. Our first
attempt to gain the ridge proved too risky. We backtracked and forged another
route, again kicking steps and carefully planting our axes. A surprise gap at
the top of the snowfield, revealed a ledge leading to a notch in the ridge! We
kicked in our steps in the morning light and carefully made our way onto the
spine of rock and talus that marked the final pitch to the summit! It being
apparent that no one had been on the mountain in some time, we were surprised
to look down and find several other parties far below at the base of the
snowfield, literally following in our footsteps! We were setting the track to
the summit on this day! While our group rested and drank water, Ben scouted
around the corner to plan how the group would connect a series of ledges and
gullies to reach the tippy top of Snowmass Mountain. Moving the group side to
side across gullies and putting our much-practiced bouldering and rock climbing
skills to use, Ben led the group safely to the final airy perch—the summit of
Snowmass Mountain—at 14,092 feet! From this height, Treasury and Treasure
looked small, Maroon and Capitol Peaks looked modest, and ridges and valleys
swept down and away from us in all directions. We spied high lakes and ponds
which would have been completely unsuspected from below! The view was truly
spectacular, and this was the culmination of all that we had worked towards—the
perfect way to combine all our skills learned in the previous 2 and half
weeks-from rock climbing, to snow climbing, to route finding, to how to read
the weather and maps, to calculating turn around times…turn around times! Yes!
We pushed our turn around time back by 15 minutes, the weather seemed so good!
Yet, we still had the descent to come—the most dangerous part of any climb.
Spotting each other on bouldering sections and moving the group across gullies
to protected crannies, we worked our way back to the lower ridge and our exit
onto the steep snowfield. With the steep snow and a rocky runout, we fixed a
rope for safety anchoring it to both snow and the solid rock of the ridge for
security. Attaching ourselves to the rope with prussick cords, we descended
straight down to where the slope mellowed slightly and anchored ourselves in
before beginning a traverse to a safe spot to begin a long glissade down into
the upper basin. With dark thunderheads building quickly above us, we
remembered why we set turn around times and stick to them. Though it looked
clear on the summit, the dark thunderheads forming at 10:30 in the morning were
typical of the last few weeks’ weather and we shouldn’t have believed that it
would be otherwise today. Ben led the group quickly down to the head of the
upper cirque and picked up the route through high meadows and back to the long
talus slope, getting everyone down to its base as the rain and hail started
pelting us with thunder rumbling in the distance. What better thing to do than
lie down in our tents exhausted while torrents of rain battered the world
around us!! And Ben probably slept most soundly of all—some 9 hours after
wake-up having just led his first 14’er.
The following day, Charlie led us expertly and safely cross country, up steep
meadows and rocky ribs back to the base of Trail Rider Pass. Down the other
side we followed trails to Geneva Lake. Here the group split, the women going
with Christina for a special women’s overnight at the lovely Geneva Lake, and
the men heading onwards, Charlie still leading, cross country and up through a
cliff band to the high country at the base of the 2000 ft. precipitous cliffs
and rockfalls coming off the backside of Snowmass Mountain. An evening
excursion to Siberia Lake revealed beautiful reflections of the surrounding
mountains and a view of Treasury Mountain through the notch at its outflow!
Exhausted, others bathed in Little Gem Lake and cooked dinner while storms
closed in around us. We went to sleep with hail pelting our tents and the long
protracted rumble of rock slides tumbling down the mountain safely across a
deep valley from us.
The following morning, the women got out ahead of us and hiked to Fravert
Basin. The men arrived shortly after them, and we headed up enmasse, under
Sarah’s leadership, to a flat area in upper Hasley Basin. This would mark the
beginning of our 24-hour solo. After instruction in survival shelter building
techniques by Christina, the group headed out, each person bringing a little
food, shelter materials of various kinds, backpack, and no watches. Each
person was dropped off one by one in his or her designated area. A day later
Christina and I returned to pick them up, and cooked a large feast for them to
celebrate the end of their solo “vision quest.” This is a popular part of the
program and is welcomed for the time it allows for reflection, as well as the
ability to experience wilderness and all of its sights and sounds on its own
terms, minus the sound of other people. With the solo finished and a happy
reunion, we prepared for bed and our hike out of Hasley Basin.
On this, our final day of hiking, Jake and Ben volunteered to guide the group
on a beautiful hike through unique upturned layers of sedimentary rock forming
stripes across the high meadows (which provided a perfect setting for a geology
lesson), up to the ridge separating Hasley Basin from basecamp in Schofield
Park. Though the hike from the ridge back to camp would seem straightforward,
it is anything but that. Our goal was to navigate directly into basecamp from
above. The trouble is, the valley is a long one and much of it really looks
the same all the way across. There are many landmarks that can aid in
navigation, particularly streams, but these all look the same too! A lesson in
triangulation helped us chart our position as we moved across the slopes, Ben
leading us safely in and out of gullies, while Jake surveyed the scene from
behind, helping us gradually zero in on our target. A final discussion on
which stream beds would lead us directly into basecamp, led to some more
sleuthing with maps and landmarks and eventual reasoning as to which gully to
follow. Did we guess right? Fifteen minutes later, the answer proved to be a
resounding “yes!” We arrived just in time to set up tents and barely five
minutes passed before rain poured down around us!
A day to clean and organize gear, and conduct final meetings with each
participant, readied us for our final campfire of song (featuring a
much-rehearsed guitar duet by Jake and Sarah) and baked orange cookie dough
balls (you’ll have to ask your son or daughter about this new Pemi West
delicacy—not to overshadow Charlie and Mike’s famous tuna melts—another new
addition to Pemi West cuisine). And on July 21st, we headed off to the Black
Canyon of the Gunnison National Park to camp out for a final night before
driving to multiple airports the next day. After a final ceremony, the dryness
of the Black Canyon, in true desert country, allowed us to sleep out under the
bright stars, warmed by the ground still radiating heat from the day’s sun.
Contented and at peace with our departure from this awesome high mountain
environment that tested us and inspired us for close to a month, we were all
ready for a return to our friends and families. Our tanks are no doubt full of
mountain experiences to draw on and fuel us through the coming year!
Pemi West for Adults:
July 23rd, 2004, began as an average day by most standards, but by mid-
afternoon, it became apparent it was no average day. The town of Gunnison,
surrounded by sage brush, and scarcely a tree in sight, gets less than 20
inches of rain a year, virtually a desert. Yet, this afternoon the climate
seemed more monsoon-like than desert-like, streets flooding, and bolts of
lightning repeatedly striking the surrounding hills. On top of this,
unsuspecting Gunnisonians had no idea that another smaller and more subtle
storm was soon to arrive: the force that came to be known as Pemi West for
“Big Kids!” Let me introduce the crew to you, a hardy group of men and women
making history as the first ever participants of Pemi West for Adults: Scott
Barnard of Georgia, a good southern gentleman and architect, father of Zach, a
current Pemi camper; Andy Judd, of New Jersey, environmental consultant, former
Pemi camper and counselor; Eileen Schlee, also of New Jersey, but living in
England, scholar of English literature and tennis coach, mother of Pip, current
Pemi camper, and Clive Schlee, crafty Englishman, husband of Eileen, business
man, and father of Pip.
After our initial meeting at the Gunnison airport, we traveled 45 minutes North
by minivan to a campground in the Cement Creek canyon, our staging area for
rock climbing which would take place the following day on the cliffs across
from our campsite. Introductions and a tasty Chinese stir-fry, cooked by
Christina, awaited us.
The following morning we were greeted by Annie, a guide with the Crested Butte
Mountain Guides, who would be our rock climbing instructor for the day. After
setting up ropes on three climbs, Annie taught us all of the basics of safe
roped rock climbing technique. With this knowledge, our crew was ready to
climb and belay. The “big kids” quickly showed us that they were no
“pushovers”, everyone completing at least one climb, and some completing 3
climbs! Excitement and exhilaration were high as we worked through the
creative challenge of piecing together ledges and cracks, and the smallest of
handholds and footholds, to find routes up the cliffs, all the while admiring
the birds-eye perspective on the valley and our belayers below!
On our 2nd full day, we were off to basecamp at 10,500 ft. to begin our
acclimatization process for the backpacking portion of the program. Sue Purvis
and rescue dog, Tasha, met us in basecamp for an afternoon of wilderness first
aid training, complete with dramatized scenarios. A pre-dinner orienteering
course, organized by Christina, made us plenty hungry for the chicken fajita
feast we were about to consume!
Rising early on our 3rd day, we packed our day packs for an excursion into the
upper East Fork valley, for our first lesson in ecology—a look at the
incredible spectrum of abundant wildflowers, all at their peak for the adults
course. A colorful palate, highlighted by blue columbines, scarlet and magenta
paint brush, purple lupines, white bistort, and many more, awaited us in the
lush sup-alpine meadows. As we switchbacked up to a higher basin, Christina
set up a creative, participatory lesson on rainfall and vegetation zones of the
area. This provided just enough distraction to help us forget about the
elevation we were rapidly gaining as we traveled a trail repaired by the kids’
group earlier in the season. Thunderstorms turned us around just short of the
final ridge, but we were in good position to begin a challenging cross country
route back to base camp. Traversing off trail through high meadows, we paused
on a plateau for lunch, and to review our topographic map-reading skills.
After a quick lesson in geology, based on rocks we were sitting among, our
group of 4 with map in hand, led Christina and me skillfully back to basecamp,
linking landmarks and topography observed in real life, to their counterparts
on the map. An early afternoon gave us the time we needed to rest and pack
food and gear for our backpacking trip, which would leave the following
morning. An ingenious concoction, of Pad Thai noodles and Tom Kha soup, under
Christina’s expert direction, satiated all of our appetites that evening.
After a car shuttle to a more convenient starting point for our first day of
packpacking, Andy Judd led us forward into the unknown, under the weight of our
full packs. Ominous skies provided cooler hiking weather, and we worked our
way through wet meadows full of pink elephant head flowers, in a trail-less and
little-hiked basin between Cinnamon Peak and Mt. Treasury. Scrambling through
a low divide, we were soon on an established trail again, one the kids had
hiked a few weeks before. The snow slopes were all but gone this time, and we
moved quickly to Yule Pass. Violent thunderstorms moved through the area ahead
of us, but thankfully slid eastward without hitting us. It being later in the
season and water more scarce, we headed down into the broad flat wilderness
valley below us, to establish a base camp next to Yule Creek in preparation for
our next 3 days of hiking. As it had with the kids, a peregrine falcon cried
from the cliffs and streaked across the valley upon our arrival highlighting
the wild grandeur of the place. Our campsite, situated on a rise on the valley
floor, afforded us majestic views of the 1000 foot limestone cliffs above us to
the south, The cliffs of Mt. Treasury to our East, and green slopes leading
appealingly westward and upward toward a hidden lake which would become Lake
“Eileen.” Our first trail dinner turned out to be a delicious tortellini with
pesto, which we consumed voraciously, after a challenging day of hiking with
full packs.
As we settled in to our campsite for the next few days, the wildness of the
area became more and more apparent. Every evening, coyotes would come out of
their dens in the cliffs and howl to each other back and forth across the
valley. We were privileged to be caught in the middle of this spine tingling
conversation. From our kitchen on granite ledges, we could spy on white
mountain goats through binoculars, feeding in the most precarious of places on
the sides of Treasury Mountain. Herds of young male deer with their velvet
antlers routinely passed through our campsite in the evening light to feed on
the tender wetland sedges of the Yule Creek. The creek meandered its way down
the valley, creating the most sinuous of oxbows and a unique sensation of being
encircled by a giant slithering serpent, when standing within them. Waking up
on our first morning at this campsite, and after a hike back up the valley to
snow fields, we became aware that we also shared this valley with a golden
eagle. On 7 foot wings it took off from the ground ahead of us, perhaps from a
marmot kill, soaring majestically into the mountain valleys it seemed to match
for size. Later in the day, with wings folded it dove out of the sky from
higher than the highest ridges, across the valley, while whistling marmots
scampered to their burrows. On this day, however, we were headed to a secret
upper basin, accessible only through a little notch in cliffs, to find a
snowfield steep enough and safe enough for our ice axe training. Sure enough,
an ideal one was to be found, just above the purest of alpine lakes. Christina
instructed everyone in proper self-arrest technique on steep snow slopes,
guiding everyone through a series of drills designed to help us execute the
technique from any sliding position. While nothing beats the feeling of snow
sledding in mid-summer, ice axe self-arrest is a critical and most basic of
mountaineering skills. After lunch by the lake, Christina and I led Clive on a
tour over the high ridges forming the backdrop for our “snow school,” utilizing
our new ice axe skills to negotiate an icy cornice, while the others hunted for
fossils and crystals in one of the most geologically complex and fascinating
strata I have ever visited. Clam shells, crinoid stems (identified by
geology-buff, Andy), and the occasional nautilus shell indicate the ancient sea
floor origin of this site, now at 12,000 ft. in the mountains. Pre-dating the
formation of the Rockies, the origin of these sea floor sediments is at least
65 million years old but probably less than 200 million, when an ancestral
mountain range stood in place of the modern day Rockies. Later in the week we
would find, to our surprise, clam shell fossils of over a foot in length
allowing our imagination to speculate wildly on what this ancient undersea
environment would have been like.
On our second full day at our Yule Creek campsite, another day hike was in
order. This time we headed to a little visited, trail-less lake across the
valley from Treasure Mountain, that had been spied from the peak of Treasury
with the kids’ group. Eileen led us up through cliff bands and along grassy
benches, linking together an ingenious route to the final grassy slopes up to
the little basin in which we believed our lake to lie (this lake lay just off
the edge of all our maps!). Sure enough, upon cresting the ridge at the top of
the slope, Eileen exclaimed, “Eureka!” The lake was dubbed “Lake Eileen”, in
her honor, and to our pleasure we came to know and explore the most gemlike of
alpine lakes, surrounded by high ridges and snowfields, including one snow
tongue that flowed directly into the lake—perhaps the most beautiful place any
of us had ever been. Tourquoise waters, and a sunny day invited a brief swim.
In our slightly hypothermic state crawling out of the water, we were moved to
write the following poem, each person in the group privately adding a line,
while only having access to the one line preceding their own (I can’t say who
contributed which lines, although I will definitely say that my own line has
nothing to do with animals of any sort!):
If I were the Golden Eagle
This is where I would come to drink
Looking into the moving blue of sky
My spirit is as free as the swirls of clouds
My soul is cleansed like the pure mountain water
Almost as good as a fresh pig slaughter
Clean and complete
Put it off as we might, it was finally time to load our full packs again and
move camp for a final night in the wilderness. As a group, we voted to
circumnavigate Treasury Mountain rather than heading out the way we had come in
with options for side trips to climb peaks. The circumnavigation option
offered a more challenging, but also more rewarding opportunity to travel into
a spectacular and completely trail-less basin. Rising at 4 AM with the early
morning light, we began the slow hike towards the 13,000 ft. divide between
Mounts Treasure and Treasury. Having done this route with the kids, Christina
and I were well aware of the difficulty of it, but also confident in the
ability of the “Big Kids” to hike it without issue. By this point, we were all
well acclimatized to the altitude, having slept at 11,000 ft. for 3 nights and
having hiked daily to 12,000 ft. This day however, was not going to allow us
any straightforward hiking, however. Halfway to the divide around 8AM, we were
confronted by deteriorating weather—a snow storm swirled around us, and it
seemed as if we were being plunged back into an ice age, the sun not having
even shown the faintest glimmer on this day. A family of ptarmigans trundled
across the tundra-like ground in front of us, seemingly unaware of us or the
weather around them. Like a ptarmigan family of our own, we bundled up, and
proceeded onward, behind Clive, our leader of the day, and decided to proceed
as long as footing and visibility remained decent. Upon reaching the foot of
the divide, a pile of rocks crashed down from the cliffs on the other side of
the valley. The two goats we had seen in previous days scrambled from a perch
they had been hiding on to shelter from the snow, evidently kicking down rocks
to warn us not to approach them. They hopped nimbly up a series of cliffs into
a protected vertical world—inaccessible to anything but a goat or a bird!
Watching the goats move with agility to their home turf, we donned our helmets
and couldn’t help but feel we were about to become guests in world that is
truly theirs. As leader of the day, Clive led us up to the ledge at the base
of the cliffs, before threading through the notch that would allow us access to
the grassy ridge above. As we made our way through the crux of this last
pitch, the blustery snow clouds gave way to clear blue sky and suddenly there
was no doubt in anyone’s mind that we were meant to be here. As we started
hiking in the darkness 3 hours earlier, wondering how our bodies would handle
full packs, the steepness of the terrain, and the altitude, Clive reminded us
that there are many people in the world who would give anything to have the
time and opportunity to climb in a place as beautiful as the Rockies. I was
also reminded that there are many present-day cultures around the world for
whom the hardships of walking are an inescapable way of life. Indeed, not more
than 100 years prior to our being there, these mountains were swarmed by
miners, hardy men and a few women, who packed in all of their supplies on their
backs and tried to eek out an existence and make their fortunes in the most
precarious of places, often in the most challenging of early- and late-season
weather. Cresting this pass, we were reminded of those people, and reminded of
truly what a privilege it is to share this spectacular place, that with the
decline of mining has once again returned to wilderness, with the goats and
ptarmigans that call it their home. With the shear cliffs and limestone layers
of Treasury Mountain to our right, and a miniature glacier below us (a dieing
remnant of colder and wetter climes), the rock “chimneys” of Treasure ahead and
to our left, the long snow cornices of Treasure close at hand, and the lakes
and ridges of previous day’s hikes across the valley behind us and below us, we
were truly in the most spectacular of places. The sudden bright sunlight and
blue sky brought new color and warmth to the landscape, and we were beckoned to
the summit of a 13,200 ft. peak between Treasure and Treasury. From here, the
world expanded around us with views to the foothills and high deserts of
western Colorado, the high peaks of Snowmass, Capitol, and Maroon, and Mount
Crested Butte in the distance. Below us, Bear Basin, still holding snow,
provided the long ramp we would soon travel and slide down to our next
campsite. But first, it was time to savor the sunlight and views from this
magnificent “island in the sky.” Knowing that thunderstorms are always a
possibility in Colorado, Clive smartly kept us moving again. After a good half
hour on our summit we returned to the grassy divide to retrieve our packs and
begin our descent. Before doing so, however, a word about the glacial geology
surrounding us on all sides was in order, as was a word from Christina about
the beautiful miniature mountain avens flowers, a holdover from the last ice
age, a species that craves cold climates and that is also found in the Arctic
where she works.
Camped among the granite slabs of the Upper Bear Basin, with a warm breeze and
full moon to add to the splendor, we savored our last night in the wilderness.
Early the next morning, a family of goats looked down on us from above, babies
and adults galavanting playfully around as they hopped on upwards to their
feeding grounds. Sadly for us, ours was the beginning of a journey downwards,
back to the land of trees and eventually, cars. First though, it was Scott’s
turn to find the route for us. We still had the challenge of navigating through
more cliffs which would grant us passage to the trail out of the neighboring
North Pole Basin. Scott spied a secret miner’s passage and with Christina,
went to scout it out for safety. With helmets on for safety, we traversed
talus and ledges until we were suddenly looking out into the cirque of North
Pole Basin. Below us, a trail back to base camp awaited and suddenly the
reality that we were leaving the wilderness home that we had come to love, and
that had taught us so much in the past 5 days, was upon us. After snapping
final photographs, we had to turn our backs and move forward. It is difficult
not knowing whether we will be able to come back and learn from this place
again someday, but it is comforting knowing that it is here—a last safe
trail-less haven for the marmot, the eagle, the goat, the coyote, the elk, the
deer, the ptarmigan, and the falcon. May we humans always remain humble guests
here!
A final night in a hotel, a closing ceremony and feast at the “Trough,”
Gunnison’s famous cowboy restaurant, were enjoyed by all. It seemed the
hardships of life in the mountains had ended as quickly as they had begun. For
certain, we will no longer take the modern comforts of our home lives for
granted. Surprisingly though, the attractive comfort of our home lives that we
all so missed while on the trail, seemed remarkably anti-climactic now that we
were all faced with the reality of a journey back to them. The mountains have
changed us, and we will be back!
Thanks to all, high schoolers and big kids, for a summer of adventure,
challenge, beauty, inspiration, exploration, and laughter. We hope you have
learned as much from us and your time in the mountains, as we have learned from
each of you! We enjoyed each and every minute of it and we’re already looking
forward to Pemi West, 2005!!
Until then,
--Tim and Christina
Pemi West Instructors, 2004