Apache Peak (13,450')

Route: Fair Glacier

Trailhead: Monarch Lake

Distance: 20 miles

Vertical Gain: 6,050 feet

Time Elapsed: 12 hours, 36 minutes

I first laid eyes on this route last September while climbing nearby Lone Eagle Peak. What was this magical snowfield that looked so enticing, even so late in the year? I snapped a picture of it and later confirmed its identity as Fair Glacier, "the finest mountaineering route on Apache and one of the best climbs in the Indian Peaks," according to Gerry Roach. I was sold. Even better was that it could be climbed from the west, saving me a long drive from my home in Grand County to the standard Long Lake Trailhead in Brainard Lake Recreation Area and the accompanying headache of coordinating road openings, permits, and weather.

Timing was everything: we had to wait long enough for the approach to melt out, but not so long that the snow hardened into glacial ice and crevasses began to yawn open. A stable weather window was also essential. The opportunity arrived in early July and I sent a text to my friend Kate, inviting her to join me and Bill (climbingcue) on this outing.

"Do you know the stats from that side?" came her response.

"The track I drew says 19 miles and 4472 vert and I know it sounds like a lot but the trail up to Crater Lake (8 miles) is so nice," I replied.

Now, if you're comparing the stats I quoted poor Kate to those posted at the beginning of the report, you'll realize I accidentally catfished her on the vertical gain. But in my defense, CalTopo catfished me first.

"I'm definitely interested!" she replied in ignorant bliss.

We met at Monarch Lake Trailhead at 5:00 AM and were hiking down the Cascade Creek Trail soon after. As promised, the trail was excellent and between the conversation and scenery the distance passed quickly. Around three miles in, I sent Bill and Kate ahead while I stepped off the side of the trail for a moment. I heard a *SNAP* and looked around, hoping to see blonde hair (Kate) or no hair (Bill) but instead seeing the dark brown fur of a cow moose and her calf, who had just stepped on a stick. I hustled down the trail to catch up with my partners, excitedly telling them of my moose encounter. Their disappointment at not seeing the duo was soon remedied by the sighting of a bull moose lounging in a meadow.

Finally, Fair Glacier came into view, peeking out over Lone Eagle's shoulder.

We reached Mirror Lake three hours after starting and paused for a snack and the obligatory reflection shot of Lone Eagle Peak. The lake was devoid of the usual dots of color from various tents, everyone apparently having gone home after the long holiday weekend. A couple and their dog were our only company on this lovely morning.

After a fifteen-minute break we continued along the east side of the lake, crossing the log jam at Mirror Lake's outlet into Cascade Creek. The official trail had disappeared now, replaced by several social trails through the woods. We emerged from the woods onto the rocky shore of Crater Lake and turned left to follow the climber's trail southeast up a gully. This proved to be the only steep part of the day aside from the glacier. Above the gully, the trail hugged the cliffs on Lone Eagle's eastern flank. We followed it except for two brief detours: one to drop down and admire a massive columbine field, and the other to avoid a lingering snowfield. Bill, not wanting to lose elevation, swapped his approach shoes for mountaineering boots and crampons and crossed the snow directly.

Just past the snowfield, the climber's trail turned right and ascended toward Lone Eagle. We broke off and headed straight for a small saddle overlooking Triangle Lake. An ice floe drifted aimlessly in the lake, resigned to its fate to bounce around like a DVD logo screensaver until the sun reclaimed it. After a bit of talus contouring, we reached the base of the glacier at 10:00 AM. We donned crampons and helmets, swapped out hiking poles for axes, and ate another snack before starting up the snow.

The slope steepened gradually, maxing out around 45 degrees. Conditions were perfect - firm but not icy - and the ascent was aided by shallow suncups and an old bootpack. From bottom to top, we climbed 1,400 feet on snow. Did I mention it was July?!

Near the top, we diverged: Bill, equipped with semi-automatic crampons, continued on steeply angled snow to a small saddle. Kate and I had only strap-on crampons and elected to disembark onto dry ground sooner.

A short class 3 downclimb on the other side of the small saddle dropped us to the bottom of what we disaffectionately dubbed the "garbage gully." Three hundred feet of loose rock loomed between us and the ridge. We stuck to the larger sized talus on the right side of the gully, mindful not to dislodge anything. We all agreed this was the worst part of an otherwise highly enjoyable route. The snowfield at the top was easily skirted to the left. A final stretch of easy class 2 talus led us to the summit.

We topped out at noon under clear skies and no wind. Longs was easily visible to the north, with its distinctive notch. Navajo looked deceptively close, but we knew difficult terrain lay between us and its summit. Mirror Lake shimmered far below. When I asked Bill and Kate to identify Lone Eagle Peak, they unanimously elected the pointy pinnacle of "Iroquois." Nope! It's funny how Lone Eagle looks so imposing from below, but like nothing more than a nondescript ridge bump from another perspective.

We spent half an hour on the summit before beginning our descent, conscious of the fact that we had a long way to go back to the car. We each chose a different line down the garbage gully, again taking care not to knock any rocks down on each other. Feeling confident in his gear, Bill ascended a nearly vertical wall of snow. Kate and I retraced our route over the rocks to climber's right. The rock here was very loose, and we tested each hold carefully.

Back on the glacier, the snow had softened into corn that would have been perfect for a snowboard descent, but was still a bit too firm for good plunge stepping. Once the slope angle relented to a reasonable degree, Kate whipped out her secret weapon: a homemade glissading sled. A flexible plastic cutting board with leg loops to keep it securely in place, it let her fly down the slope. My knees creaked in protest as I watched her shrink into the distance.

Although I did not get to glissade, I did find a pine sawyer beetle in the snow on the way down. I was impressed by his freakishly long antennae, which are apparently used to sniff out dead coniferous trees for the female beetles to lay their eggs in. This little guy was a bit off track!

We made good time on the descent back to Monarch Lake, averaging 3 mph, though the final miles dragged in the afternoon heat. Somewhere along that long hike out, I figured it was finally time to come clean about the actual stats. I casually mentioned the real vertical gain, bracing for impact. Fortunately, Kate took the news in stride and, miraculously, still talks to me.

It was a long day - but totally worth it for one last snow climb in July, though I can confidently say I'll be hanging up my crampons until next year after this one.