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After a breakfast of tea and oatmeal, we were on the trail just after dawn. The first quarter of the ascent to any of the three fourteeners surrounding Chicago Basin greets climbers with a steep rise of 1,200 feet in less than a mile up granite waterfalls and rocky use trails. Catching your breath is part of the game at more than 12,500 feet. Camping was once allowed on the barren terrain around Twin Lakes, but disruption of mountain goat habitat removed this option. A herd of goats greeted us we crossed the last step and reached Twin Lakes. Tamed by the parade of climbers offering handouts, the goats approached us without fear and appeared nonplussed when we offered nothing.
Despite the tremendous number of calories burned climbing from base camp to Twin Lakes, the cold wind rising up from Chicago Basin chilled us. Power Bars and a windproof shell protected us from the early morning air. During the break I looked back and was struck by how trivial Peak 18 now appeared. The thirteener that loomed behind me in the two images above, the same thirteener that was several hundred feet higher than my previous personal high on Mt. Dana, now looked like a bump on the talus below. Peak 18 is the high point along the left edge of the image. Twin Lakes are far below on the right and Eolus and North Eolus form the horizon.
The crux of the climb is a scramble up a steep Class 2+ section. Just past a notch in the summit ridge, the climb leads steeply up 30 feet of large boulders. The path is loosely marked with cairns and difficult to see in the image at left, but follows the face of the boulders on the left edge and vertically up in an arc toward the summit. From final west summit ridge, the terrain drops away steeply to the morraine fronting Sunlight Peak (14, 058') and vertically down the southwest face into the upper end of Chicago Basin. We had been climbing for nearly four hours. While we had seen other climbers on neighboring routes, we shared Windom Peak only with the mountain goats.
Past the crux, only a few hundred feet of scrambling across boulders remain on the West Ridge Route. The exhaustion of the steep climb to Twin Lakes had been replace by an adrenaline rush of confidence. There is an exciting ledge to traverse on the southwest face beneath the summit, and then nowhere else to go. Finally, the summit of my first fourteener! The view was indescribable. The wind was blocked by a knob and the sun emerged to bathe the calm summit, creating a relaxing aura high above the terrain below. We were soon joined by two other climbers and ate, drank and talked on the summit for nearly an hour. I called Angie in base camp by radio to relay the good news.
We began our descent shortly after 1 pm. While a snow squall showered us high above Twin Lakes, we were safely off the summit and back to easier hiking. Windom Peak disappeared in a veil of mist as we left the meadows of Chicago Basin and entered the pine forests lining Needles Creek. We were on foot from Chicago Basin down to Needleton and had aready been on the trail for eight hours. It was still four hours and 3,000 vertical feet down to the Needleton camp. We would climb 9,000 vertical feet over 12 hours before the day was finished. As we strode into camp, several horses and mule cantered toward us, running free in the lush, green grass of the camp. I can remember few things as stirring. Sharon had prepared fresh guacamole and they had saved a cold beer for each of us. Grilled steaks, baked potatoes and fresh green beans capped off a truly fine day.
A crisp, perfect mountain morning greeted us as we woke to cowboy coffee, hash brown potatoes and southwest scrambled eggs. Our horses and mules were grazing free among the aspens. The sun crested the ridge above camp and quickly dried the dew from the tents. After the packs were packed and the animals loaded, we broke camp and headed south along the Animas River parallelling the DSNGRR.
The trail south of Needles Creek meanders through stands of tall Ponderosa Pine and along rushing white water rapids. The pine scent permeated everything and together with the clear, crisp air, made for ideal riding conditions. Lunch time came quickly and a sandy bluff amid tall pines overlooking the Animas River was chosen. We could have relaxed at that perfect lunch spot for hours. Reality eventually slipped back in and we continued south along the river.
The Class 5 rapids of the Animas are popular with kayak and white water rafting outfitters. To provide better train access to these groups and others in the San Juan National Forest, a bridge across the river was built back in the 1960s. A flood wiped out the poorly engineered bridge many years ago and today only the wreckage remains. In a testament to the traditional ways of the west, the wooden bridge we crossed stands strong where the steel bridge lay in ruin. Safetly across, we headed up Cascade Creek toward Purgatory.
Cascade Creek forms a deep, narrow canyon. The trail hugs the south wall and occasionally offers 400 foot drops to the creek below. Steep walls give way to grassy meadows and miles of aspen forest. We all grew silently reflective as the end of the trail neared. Our four days with Pete and his crew were an experience like no other. Both of our thoughts were on our next pack trip into the mountains of southwest Colorado. Friends welcomed us with cold beer, invitations were exchanged, hands were shaken, mules were loaded (twelve in a single stock trailer!), and we were on our way back to the populated world. The shower felt good, but we would have quickly traded it for another night in the tent.
The World jumped out at us in stark contrast to the tranquility we had grown close to over the past four days. The annual Durango Iron Horse Rally revved up to full throttle as we rolled into town. Far from the high alpine tundra and peaks of Chicago Basin, the 23,000 Harley Davidsons offered their own brand of interest. There's something strangely synonomous about the freedom bikers enjoy and the freedom we enjoyed in the wilderness. Before we knew it, we were on a plane climbing high above the Four Corners. While it's always hard to leave, we left secure that these outstanding experiences were burned indelibly in our memory. Goodbye, San Juans.
