Yote Prints in the Snow

One night I had a dream. I dreamed I was walking alone on a ridge with snow.

Across the sky flashed scenes from my mountaineering life.

For each scene I now noticed ahead two sets of prints in the snow; one belonging

to a trailing coyote, and the other to an eager bunny.

When the last scene of life flashed before me,

I looked back at the prints in the snow and noticed a wild chase, then a scuffle, then blood droplets along the path of life and finally there was only one set of yote prints.

This happened at the very lowest and scariest section of the ridge with cold hollow unsupportive snow while all alone as icy daggers fired in sheets and chill winds from snow squalls assailed me.

This really bothered me, and I questioned Mother Nature about it:

Mother Nature you said that once I decided to follow the ridge, you'd walk with me all the way. But I noticed that during the most treacherous part of the ridge all that is left is only one set of yote prints. I don't understand why when you are needed most you would leave me.

She says, one must fight, and one must climb, and one must chase at the right time, The art of losing is easy to mime but you must see that mountains demand all we can give, then they’ll ask for more but if you could be an expert like my winter trees and let things go, your footprints will be like yote prints in the snow.

Handies Peak February 21,2020 Longer and harder than I expected. 12.2 miles 5,252 vert 14 hours 45 minutes. Solo.

From Cataract Gulch TH hiking toward Boulder Gulch along Cottonwood Creek after my fleeting gravy train boot packed trail from local ice climbers, I noticed the usual deer, coyote and bunny tracks in the snow then noticed larger, much larger tracks than I’d ever seen and immediately knew they were moose tracks. Up ahead I spot her, a fat pregnant moose and she scampers away before I could contemplate getting her picture. Then wonder, what do they eat out here in the frozen wonderland?

It’s cold, very cold and the snow is awful.

Each step taken I sink down 6 inches and following moose tracks isn’t much help, so I accept I’ll have to make my own tracks hoping it’ll be a little easier on the return, if I return. I’m tired from yesterday’s 16-mile success up Uncompahgre and heading toward Handies as my final frozen 14er accepting that I may have to turn back for any number of reasons if necessary, like scary crappy steep snow. Along Cottonwood Creek last year’s epic snow and avalanche paths make themselves evident with trees snapped at their base and one large boulder that were all swept away. My favorite peak bagging friend was heading up American Peak the day that boulder came crashing down blocking him from driving back to town after his climb. I haven’t been back here in a couple years, so I never saw it but was there with him that afternoon for our attempt up Half Peak the next day and heard all about why he was late meeting me at the trail head.

It was taking much longer than anticipated and I pity the fool that was intrigued by a false sense of confidence from the prior day’s success. Uncompahgre’s snow was beautiful, helpful, supportive and stable. I chose it first over Handies because the avalanche danger increased from low to moderate above tree line on south and southeast aspects yesterday but back to green today and guess which routes are deemed safest in winter up both? Yep, south southeast. Will the elusive one finish on the elusive one? Time will tell.

After finally making it past the moose highway I can see Boulder Gulch but then notice a set of coyote prints following a set of bunny prints and then it looks like a mad chase where the bunny scampered left, right, right, left, up the hill and I was entertained knowing what I was seeing wondering if it just happened because the tracks look fresh. Then it looked like a brief pouncing scuffle and sadly a little fur and blood but all that was left heading up towards the trees were a lonely set of coyote tracks and I’m sure with a fat happy belly. Witnessing the survival of the fittest and fastest inspired the Yote prints in the snow paradoxical poem because really comedy equals tragedy over time and I can empathize. Sometimes you’re the coyote and sometimes you’re the bunny and I’ve always like chasing bunnies but now I’m chasing peaks merely for the sake of completing my one last list and I vow to never chase lists again because although I find freedom in my discipline I’ve lacked the desire for one main reason; ambivalence. I’ve been doing this a long while. I’ve met some awesome and some not so awesome people along the way. Why do I keep climbing? Mountains challenge me mentally, physically and emotionally in a way few other experiences in life do. We live in a constant state of daily comfort from temperature-controlled rooms, heated car seats and warm coffee available on nearly every street corner and all that stuff sounds good right now along with a big bag of salty chips. While climbing I deal with a constant state of discomfort and learn to control the hierarchy of needs so I can safely get up and down the mountain while working with all that is weak, lazy, and slap that little scaredy cat within myself. Three years ago, I got ran over by a car, shattered my back, hips, shoulders and paralyzed my leg. Grit, strong will and determination allowed me to come back and I am strong again but feel I could be a burden someday to someone so for my final peaks I chose to go solo because it is a privilege to be here again and although I’m not a fast as I used to be, I am as strong.

Climbing has significantly changed my life for the better, and it continues to. The skills I've acquired, the places I've been and the people I've shared these experiences over the years have allowed opportunities to satisfy my spirit. Coyotes were born to chase, and we humans were made climb!

However, I felt the need to disappear for a while because of the not so awesome people and my mamma always said that if you have nothing nice to say well then sit next to me so you’ll have to go over to her house if you want the details. I’ve been back and climbed some amazing things since recovering and today I’m inspired to write this for a couple reasons. Some of my favorite 14ers.com authors have also come back. Also early this winter I attempted Antero with CaptCo and he’s a really nice kid who inspired me to start an Instagram account for my backpack Sherpa named Sebastian after I took a picture and said, “hey let me take this picture so I can show it to no one” He asked why. This brought up so many feelings and I pushed all my buddies away because I got tired of hearing myself talk, it was exhausting to everyone and I had to let go. Humans talk too much and state the obvious and think their brains would stop working if they stopped talking but truth is my brain starts working when I STFU and just keep climbing. I reached out to him because I could see the coyotes chasing him. He was becoming the 14er.com bunny. I’ve been a small mentor and just wish everyone would be nice to each other. Long story but now I’m tired of sitting around pouting while I climb my never-ending metaphorical mountain and today, I’m here to say, “Ta Da I did it!” Although what I’ve at last completed hasn’t totally sunk in yet. Perhaps this is what delayed gratification feels like?

Heading up Boulder Gulch now on steeper terrain burning a lot of matches along the way while fighting the poor sugary snow quality. I decided to stay east of the creek until I gained a little more altitude. Eventually I drop into the creek because I find a nice frozen watering hole for my return and mark the spot on my GPS. Looking behind me at Quarter Peak I’m reminded of the day baby did a bad bad thing while traversing from Half Peak staying true to the ridge. Some-days you’re a hero and some days a zero. That day I was a hero but to no one because those were the days I led with much bravado and what for? The snow up higher is still terrible and I worry what it will be like in the upper basin. Time to sit, have a drink, a snack and send a spot to Marc and my sister to let them know I’m doing good.

The upper basin with jaggedy American Peak snarling at me on the left and PT 13,795 ahead on the right as a potential contender

I was overwhelmed at the peace and calm I witnessed. Winter climbing is dangerous but there is something magical about it too. Mountains dressed in their best whites, calm cool crisp dry air and solo thoughts as a bald eagle flies over head telling me, “Hey, over here.” Yeah, yeah I’m coming. Feeling crestfallen because this is taking longer than I’d hoped and a little creeped out because I can hear Silverton dropping avalanche bombs next door. There are two ways up the Handies beast. The south ridge or up and over PT 13,795’s southeast ridge where I see an avalanche waiting to be triggered so I angle far away from that thinking I’ll attempt the south ridge, but the slippery snow has significantly lowered my confidence.

I gently pass the southeast ridge and can see patches of tundra grass poking out on PT’s south face. It’s steep but I’m sure the spiky things on my snowshoes will eat it for lunch and they do. MSR lightning ascents are tough effective masterful tools. I really like my slowshoes. Blasphemy, I know. They take me up and dig in the tufts poking out and onto a flattish rocky point at about 12,500 where I decide to ditch the shoes and trade up for some real spiky things, crampons because I see the whole ridge is covered in snow, rock and a little ice.

The wind is being polite and the sun a little lazy. If the snow would’ve been a little firmer, I’d say it could’ve been a perfect winter mountaineering kind of day but no, the snow’s being a jerk and making me nervous. I blast up the ridge knowing that another mildly technical rock section is coming. I see it and can’t wait to finally scramble. Albeit brief it was fun to play on rock with my spiky things and everyone played nice.

I see a fat cornice on top of PT and assume Handies will be decorated similarly.

Once I got on top the final ridge the final summit always appears higher, farther, longer, and steeper than I imagine it is.

I see Redcloud and Sunshine next door, which I’d completed as a day trip last week and that is the steepest winter route I’ve ever been on. It gets the job done but is most unenjoyable.

Eight years later I’m finally on top of my last winter peak.

I feel elated, tired, worried, vulnerable, superlative and place my pack down with Sebastian staring at me, which makes me feel cheeky. I’m a maladjusted natural born world shaker, which is why Sebastian is my only friend. He goes everywhere I go; always back there on my pack telling me to keep going and to never never give up. I get to anthropomorphize him and decide he’s earned his black belt today and to celebrate I throw some snowfetti.

I’m on fire with excitement and know I can’t stay long because soon it’ll be bone picking time and I’m running out of water. Nothing of consequence gets accomplished without courage. I take as deep a breath as I can at altitude and stare long and hard at the ridge knowing it’ll be another couple hours before I hit the recharging station.

I keep crampons on all the way back across the ridge, all the way down the crumbly towers, all the way down the steep south tundra tufts and down a little more till I start post holing at 12, 000.

I finally feel safe now for the first time all day and look back at Handies and say out loud, “Thanks for not killing me”. Time for slow shoes and I cruise all the way to the watering hole with still a little daylight left. I stomp out a nice snow bridge, take off my pack and start melting snow while guzzling my meager rations. Sugary snow like this yields a 1,000,000 :1 ratio meaning I pack as much as I can in my Jet Boil and get a tablespoon of water. I use my axe and shovel to get to the bottom and hit the jackpot of flowing water. All this scooping and digging weakened my snow bridge and it collapsed beneath me and face first I fell into the watering hole. Whoops.

I’ve never been interested in a polar plunge but here I am testing the water proofness of everything I own. My pack, boots and gloves all pass the test but my mangy ski pants, mighty puffy and stove all fail. At least the puff is duck down right? I’m at 11, 200 and 4.2 miles from the car. Just keep going. My backpack aka Godzilla has an entire change of clothes and I know how to build a badass snow cave. Nothing is critical yet and I don’t feel the immediate need to change everything because the critical items are waterproof. Shame on me for being complacent. I’m heading down the last steep part of Boulder Gulch and it’s time for a headlamp. I follow my tracks back out expecting them to be helpful but they’re not. Expectation is the root of all heartache. You expect your tracks in to pack down on the way out and there is nothing more infuriating than post holing in snowshoes while going downhill, but I got myself in this mess and I’m going to get myself out.

I’m at the moose highway now and at first they stayed on their side of the lane but towards the middle of the road they trampled my trail and not that it mattered because mine sucked too; it took me 4 hours to go 4 miles and I’m too tired and beat down to cry. Feeling spectacularly mediocre as I fell only once on this entire trip and right at the dumbest part passed the moose highway, passed my tracks, passed the large boulder and on the gravy train part that’s packed down from the ice climbers boot pack. I’m too tired to laugh and I’m getting sleepgry.

Five more years later I’m back at the car and my insides don’t match my outsides. While changing I feel like I took a shower and put my dirty clothes back on. I stopped posting and deleted all my old trip reports because they were naive. Peak bagging without telling anyone or posting about it anywhere or what I call top secret weekend warrioring is seriously liberating in a way that I’d never considered it might be and, at least for now, I’m loving the fact that I’m living my life for my own pleasure, not social media. Ignorance is bliss. I’ve had a hard time wanting to finish the winter 14ers because how can you want what you already have? But the more I think about it; where I am at this phase of my life is more reflective. Am I proud of who I am and where I've gone? Yes. I'm still out there killing it.

Uncompahgre Peak February 20,2020 An easier than I expected palindrome kind of day. 16 miles, 6,110 vert, 13 hours 59 minutes

Day tripping Uncompahgre in winter solo is an esoteric act. But if you recognize the excellence in yourself and persevere with enough force, anything is possible. I’m feeling good and confident and going to get things done right. Just in boots to start I hit the ground running and blazed along the gravy train because someone else was out here stomping snow but after a half mile they gave up. Big fat bummer. Time to commit and my smile is gone for a while. No right way is easy in this rough world.

I’m slowly getting over feeling like I was forced into early retirement and will never know what could have been. Sure, I’ve been to the movies and I’ve seen the ending; the cowboy trades his fur for wings. Now I’ve learned to accept my new normal and the best thing I was given was the ability to deal with diversity and, I value the importance of the present moment now instead of planning out my next adventure and never truly enjoying what I was currently doing. Stomping out your own tracks, making your own way and meeting my needs of self-actualization right here, right now is purely peaceful meditative personal growth. Say that ten times fast. It’s a long way up Nellie Creek to the main trail head. Several years ago, I was here with my husband Marc and we drove all the way up the 4 x 4 road and met a photographer on top named Steve who convinced us afterward to drive over Cinnamon Pass to get to Silverton. Marc asked me, “wasn’t there snow on the ground and didn’t we already do this in winter?” Yeah, remember digging the car out of snow going up the pass in November? It’s quite arbitrary to climb only the 59 tallest mountains in Colorado in calendar winter but despite being tired of chasing this last vexing list and after talking to Mr. Pierce about a true calendar winter ascent set forth by the American Alpine Club, I will respect the rules. The truth shall set you free. Besides there are many benefits to winter climbing. No bears, no bugs, no people and occasionally, you get a perfect windless blue-sky winter day like today.

Ever so often I’d plop down under my tracks and wallow in snow but for most of the way to the upper trail head I floated on top. There was one miserable section, which typically occurs in the willows. There’s a love hate relationship with those bastards. You know you’re going to punch down through them but when you need to pull yourself out, yarding on their tough vines is like sucking marrow out of bone. I take a little break in the trees and eat some pizza, drink some water and get ahead of the pain with a couple vitamin I’s and with proper energy conservation I’m at the summer trail head.

Only 3.75 miles to the top.

Once through tree line there are two options. Stay on the summer trail or gain the southeast ridge. I choose the latter. In the upper basin the snow was solid, perfect and turned my frown upside down. I crossed one hairy avalanche trap and sent a spot before and after for body recovery purposes. That’s the fact jack. That brief jaunt was more intuitive than reductive. Now, instead of wasting my life away to gain the ridge I headed towards Uncompahgre’s south ridge because I could see the snow packed switchbacks on the southeast face.

There’s a cornice way up on top and I stay low, head right then beeline straight to the crest of the ridge at 13,800 where it’s time to switch to pons and axe.

I see a bergschrund ahead by the pecker rock and get this unmixed pleasure of sinking my axe in super deep and kicking some mean steps for the return. The final puzzle is the typical loose San Juan volcanic messy looseness and I didn’t remember it taking this long last time. There is no pain in good company I suppose and I’m distinguishing between what is and what ought to be along and up to the final summit.

At last I’m here. I made it and have complete gratitude.

I find the summit marker, send a spot, stick proud Sebastian next to it then tend to my wild hair under my helmet. My hair is much like cotton candy and if you lick it, it goes away. When I pop off my helmet I find a couple twigs in my hair from the bushwhacking in the trees I’m sure, then get this imaginative idea to build a little snowwoman to pose with Sebastian purely for entertainment purposes but he looks at me through the camera lens and says, “get that crazy bitch away from me with her wimpy stick arms, this is my mountain”. He’s selfish.

I’ve goofed off long enough up here. Time to go.

An alpinist displays her true prowess by how she gets off a mountain; not up.

I look over at Handies and say, “you’re next, please be nice to me”. A little exercise meditation is good for the soul. Here we go. No drama, no pain just a lot of steps to retrace. My steps are light, fast and efficient; only punching through here and there. I get some water, have another snack and prepare for my leisure stroll out wishing to high five the moon but it’s a new moon and that makes star gazing spectacular.

2.5 miles from the car I see another headlamp ahead and hear him say to his buddy, “Oh there he is up ahead”. Speaking of me I assume and bet they’ll be surprised to hear a woman say, “good evening gentleman”. We stop and chat a while and I tell them the snow was better than expected and where I punched through along the road and up in the willows. Then I warn of the avalanche trap I crossed and asked if they had beacons. The didn’t. I also mention that after the final ridge crest I was quite happy to have crampons and axe and they didn’t have that equipment either. Oh well, kick harder I thought; good luck and good night. We part ways and I covered the last couple miles in one hour feeling very good and very eager for tomorrow’s final peak. The Halo effect wears off because I know I have a lot of work to do. If you do what you've always done then you'll be what you've always been. But I embrace the challenge and overcome the difficulties to find the peace. Time to go make my never ending yote prints in the snow. Ahhwooo woooo!