Last week, I set out to a place I had hoped to avoid but knew I'd have to revisit: Lake Como. What began as a push to continue on the 14er list developed into a full adventure with every element of fun. I set off on Sunday, climbed Blanca on Monday, and Little Bear on Tuesday. Here's how it went:

As usual, I took too long getting out of my apartment the day of a trip. I had hoped to get to Lake Como early in order to avoid the afternoon sun, but after the usual procrastinating+over-packing, I set off from Colorado Springs and arrived at the trailhead around 4:30PM. Like so many, I decided to test Lake Como road a bit, willing my Blue Subaru to about 8200' before calling it quits. It's just not worth the risk. So, defeated and under the blazing sun, I slowly made my way towards the basin that would be home for the next few days.

The pack-in, though exhausting, was mostly uneventful. I was slogging away from the rapidly setting sun, hoping to make camp at a reasonable hour and wondering how I got so out of shape. One scare, though: I found a snake! Around 10,200' I heard a hiss, and looked down to find a large yellow snake with black spots slithering about a foot from where I was. I bolted, with the sort of speed that a 65L pack usually prohibits, and got away. Some post-hike research makes me think that it wasn't a rattlesnake, but I could've sworn that I heard a rattle. Happy to have not been bitten, I meandered onward and marveled at all of the obstacles:

Upon arriving at Lake Como, I went past the lake to find a spot that had been recommended online. It was a little too close to the creek for my liking, but I was exhausted and could see that it had been used many times before. So, with that, the usual fight for sleep began. My sleeping pill didn't work, and I waited until the morning, hoping in vain to fall asleep at least once...

I set off just after 6AM, with the sun already halfway up. Exhausted from the lack of sleep, I had hiked for a 45 minutes, when I realized that I had forgotten my sunblock at camp. Yikes. I faced three choices: 1. Go back and get it, while losing nearly 1,000' of gain (yuck), 2. Hike as fast as possible and try to outrun a potentially bad sunburn (yuck), or 3. Ask one of the strangers up ahead to see if I could borrow (yuck). I wish that I could say I was tough and self-reliant enough to go with option #1, but, alas, I felt shameless. Option #3 was the winner, and thankfully the other hikers were kind and let me use their sunblock in the morning.

Upon reaching Blanca's NW ridge, I could see a few options. There were cairns just below the ridge, as well as a ridgeline that appeared to go (albeit with significant exposure to the left). I mixed/matched, going under most of the way but occasionally taking a detour to the precipice. At 8:45, I topped out and had the summit to myself.

The descent was surprisingly enjoyable, though. I have bad knees thanks to some injuries from last year, and I was worried about all of the elevation loss that this trip would entail. So, I spent the time trying to walk in such a way that they held up. I was happy to find that the knees did well, though, and it made for a nice stroll back to camp. I paused at each small lake, taking in the wildflowers on a sunny day:

^Lakes on lakes on lakes, feat. spiky plants and columbines

Back at camp, I had to kill a lot of time. So, I did a few things:

• 1. I finally learned how to text on the InReach. I had planned to meet a stranger from facebook for Little Bear, and he (like me) had some issues getting started before mid-late afternoon. I was worried that he wouldn't make it and I'd have to do Little Bear alone, but we texted throughout the day and he arrived after dark.
• 2. I went on a mosquito genocide. It turns out that the herbal bug spray from REI is mediocre at best, and I did my best to cull the mosquito population of Lake Como by hand. It was a losing endeavor, though, and I wondered about the range of West Nile and Zika virus for a little while...
• 3. I read by the Lake. I have a bridge book that I never finish, and it seemed like a good time to study strip-squeezes and delayed-duck endplays without a deck of cards.
• 4. I tested the wag bag approach. I felt guilty about the LNT aspect of my camp spot, and despite the fact that others had dug bad catholes nearby (gross!), I wanted to be a more responsible backpacker. It did go well, but nobody warned me about the smell... whatever powder comes with the bags doesn't neutralize anything. It just makes the whole bag smell like garbage instead of shit... and I was not happy about it.

So, with the afternoon done, I met up with Dominik (the stranger from FB) to discuss Little Bear plans before heading off to bed. After a sleepless night, I wish I could say that I slept well, but it was really just a few hours. Disappointing, and worrisome with a major climb looming, but such is life...

We were moving by 4:15AM, slogging in the dark up the gully of fun to gain the W Ridge of Little Bear. Dom and I had chatted about LB in the weeks prior, and he's made great progress on the 14ers -- with over 30 since his start in 2021. He had been able to poach a ride up a portion of Lake Como road, too, so he had plenty of energy in the morning. I was just happy to be up and moving:

^Views of Little Bear as the sun comes up, with views back across the talus

Slowly, but surely, after the gully of fun we made our way across talus to arrive at the hourglass. I had been up here in 2019 and turned around due to water in the middle, and this entire section scared me. True to its name, it's wide at the base and top, but narrow in the middle. The rock is solid here, but it's smooth from years of erosion, with small holds and exposure that increases with each step:

Here, though, I made use of my not-so-secret weapon: approach shoes. Though not the most comfortable (especially in loose gullies and talus fields), they're worth their weight in gold during sections like this. Instead of attacking the choke point directly, I headed left to pull a few high class 4/low class 5 moves. Dominik was able to step across the water here, but both of us had to make difficult moves over exposure.

Past the choke point, more climbing remains before the rappel anchors. I smeared my way up, making the most of tiny bumps, small ledges, and uninspiring handholds. Throughout the climb, we generally had better feet than we had hands, due to the smear-y nature of the terrain. We went to the right at the anchor, which in hindsight put us into harder territory than we had to be. More smearing, more exposure, and a mess of loose rock to top it all off was how our morning went.

Still, we were able to make our way to the main bowl in the upper SW face without issue. We had both known about loose rock that funnels into the hourglass, but seeing it in person had both of us unnerved. It's so dangerous up there, and any one of the thousands of loose rocks could kill someone if it came flying into the hourglass at 30mph. We tried to watch our steps, but both of us sent at least one missile down hundreds of feet. Thankfully, nobody was below us, but we still felt apprehensive while in this area.

Still, once in the upper bowl, the exposure relented and we tiptoed our way towards the summit. We arrived atop the West Ridge approx. 10 feet from the true summit, and marveled at the incredible exposure that had developed.

The way down was, unsurprisingly, non-trivial. We once again tiptoed through the upper bowl, hoping to find a more pleasant way into the hourglass. We could see some paths on skier's right (climber's left) that appeared to be more pleasant, but without having the benefit of a full view, we decided that it was safer to simply retrace our steps. Still, this put us in the awkward position of downclimbing the small, smeary holds from before. I was doing okay in my approach shoes, but Dominik was having a miserable time of it. We were also trying to be careful not to kick things on each other, and as we approached the rope anchor, we agreed to give each other enough space to get to a protected spot before having the other continue down. Both up and down, we'd say the usual "climbing", followed by "I'm secure" when we'd reached a safe stopping point.

I had inspected the rope upon the ascent, and it was (mostly) in good condition. Armed with this knowledge, I kept one hand on it while descending. It was less for weight-bearing, and more for balance. I made my way below the choke point and waited. As Dom descended, to our surprise, a couple of climbers appeared above us! We had seen 2 groups on the W Ridge while ascending, and this group was coming down. They made use of the existing rope+anchor, and put him on a "body belay" -- something I hadn't heard of before. It worked, and though I couldn't see much from below, using some form of protection seemed useful here.

(Side note: the other group (not the "body-belay" group), was an SAR case waiting to happen. Dom had chatted with them at camp, and none had done more than 7 14ers. They had no helmets, were hiking in sweatpants, and were starting their LB-Blanca traverse day at 6:30AM with storms forecasted at noon. They had also run behind the day before after not realizing that a 4Runner generally doesn't make it to Lake Como. Still, I haven't heard anything from SAR re: that area in a while, so I'm assuming they turned out okay? Fingers crossed...)

Anyway, after slowly descending the hourglass, we made our way back to a traverse on talus. I put us too high -- a mistake I had made 4 years ago as well, but there were cairns leading us back to where we needed to be. Finally, after what seemed like forever, we arrived atop the gully of fun. To my surprise, it actually lived up to the name I had given it in jest. I went scree-ing, making use of the dirt portions and the fact that there was nobody below me. While plenty of rocks rolled, I could see all the way to the valley and knew that nobody was being put in danger. Hop turns, lunging stops...etc were the name of the game here. Before long, we were back at Lake Como, ready to begin the death march out.

The ending slog was mostly uneventful, but I definitely picked up the pace in the "rattlesnake" section. It was a somewhat irrational fear, as it's the first big snake that I've seen during my 14er adventures, but I wanted to get away from it all. My pack also smelled horrible (sorry, Dom), and I wanted to get back to the car. One last fight with the babyheads of the road, and we were out! I had done Ellingwood during a previous climb, and so with this one, the Lake Como group was finally out of the way. This is one road that doesn't need to be revisited anytime soon.

Still, It was a fun trip, and a good chance to jump back into class 3+ after not doing any since last year. Thanks to Dom for coming along! Best of luck on your 14er journey, and I'm sure we'll link up again for another climb. Special thanks to the body-belayers for helping him out, and to the snake for not biting me. Me feet hurt from summiting in approach shoes, and now it's time to rest up before the final 3 (Longs, Capitol, Uncompaghre).