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| photo by Barrett |
Kelso Ridge of Torreys Peak (14,267 ft) is a neophyte mountaineer's dream route. In May and early June the friendly third class rock scramble provides a moderately-challenging-for-mere-mortals rock and snow ascent that can either help you hone your alpine skills or prove how miserably out of mountain-shape you are. When I contacted my buddy Barrett about climbing Kelso, I had planned for the former but was more successful at the latter.
I met Barrett in 2013 working at a backpacking guiding outfitter in Salida, CO. He is a Texas flatlander who relocated to Colorado last year after college and has made a life for himself playing in the mountains, learning the ways of the backcountry, and making ski descents of some pretty cool lines. I am a mediocre rock climber from Tennessee who -- despite working three summers backpacking in the Colorado high country -- greatly underestimated my lung and leg muscle capacities.
The adventure began as we drove to the trailhead the night before. Caught in the grey area between winter and summer, Barrett's truck got stuck trying to make a way through the snow on Forest Road 189 somewhere between the two seasonal trailheads. By the time we dug it out, we accepted our longer hike, and fell asleep in the back for a 4:00AM courtesy call a la Aesop Rock's "Rickety Rackety."
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| almost there... |
We hiked the remainder of 189 in the dark and caught the morning's alpine glow as we entered the valley. For this southern boy, the crunching of snow under my boots was romantic. It hearkened of the documentaries I watched as a kid about mountaineers on Everest. My inner child felt like I was walking in their footsteps. I did not yet know that hours later the firm snow I felt so fondly of would turn to mooshy mash potato quicksand that I would hurl curses at as I sank to my knees and sometimes my waist.
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| it's early... |
At the saddle between Kelso Mountain (13,164 ft) and Torreys Peak, the entire route can be seen: a dragon's back of snow and rock that passes two towers between 12,800 and 13,200 and finishes on a knife-edge just below a final steep push to the summit. And it was at the saddle that I realized my Black Diamond Cyborg crampons did not fit my La Sportiva Trango boots (I'm from Tennessee!). Thankfully, they fit Barrett's boots and Barrett's crampons fit mine.
The knife's edge is the technical crux of the route in summer but in snowy conditions it was quite congenial. Instead, the exposed traverses below the two rock towers on wet, crumbly rock proved most difficult. But I've also never climbed rock in crampons before so maybe its not so bad.
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| the first of two steep snow traverses |
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| Barrett surveys the knife edge |
The actual crux, of course, was my general lack of acclimatization and physical preparation. I had no idea walking in snow would be so tiring. Barrett blazed in front of me while I huffed and puffed my way to every nearest flat spot I could find. Leaning on my ice ax to catch my breath, I wondered what happened to the dorky, try-hard, first-year backpacking guide Barrett I remembered and I realized he'd actually tried hard enough to become a bonafide mountain man. I would've been proud but every ounce of energy I had was used in trying not to keel over in the fetal position, tears frozen to my face, wondering why I never went to the beach in the summer.
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| kick stepping is hard |
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| at the top |
After enjoying some summit Tecates and swapping summer objectives with some other climbers we postholed our way to the saddle between Grays and Torreys to begin our glissade back to the valley where more postholing would eventually lead us to our car. I'm not proud of how I handled this descent. I think I may have even attacked the snow with my ax at some point. I cursed the gods, the snow, myself, and even Barrett (for being "better" at postholing than me). It's probably a good thing Barrett was so far ahead of me; I was an angry pilgrim walking back down that valley and it wasn't becoming.
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| and it was at this moment that I began to think bouldering wasn't so dumb after all |
Climbing -- whether we're bouldering, trad cragging, or mountaineering -- reveals a lot about us. If we don't learn from our experiences, what are we even doing? Here's what I learned about myself on Kelso Ridge: I don't handle sucky situations well when I'm not in charge.
I've been in plenty of planned sufferfests and unintentional epics -- situations that sucked or were scary or both -- but I'm usually the person who planned the trip, or chose the route, or got us off the route. In these scenarios, I have to have a positive attitude. "I got us into this mess. I'll get us out and it'll be okay."
But the uncertainty of not being in charge, not being the planner, not really knowing what I'm doing... I didn't handle that very well. Which is crazy because when in life are you ever fully in charge? When in life is there ever absolute certainty about almost anything? I've got a lot of growing to do.
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