2016-07-04 - Maroon Bells - Frigid Air Pass and West Maroon Pass
On day three of the first backpacking adventure of my life, I woke up early. I was feeling a lot better, albeit terribly cold. It must have been in the 20s while we slept because I had on about four layers on my upper body and still felt cold in the sleeping bag. I had most of my appetite back too. The terrible howls and oddly militant marching calls we heard during the night (from a late-night hiking group) seemed like a dream. I wandered half a mile back down the trail to fill up water bottles for Brian and me. Tessa, Brian's Border Collie, heard me leave, and I guessed correctly that she would wake Brian for me. We scarfed down breakfast and packed up, eager to set out early, as we had two passes yet to conquer, each over 12,000 feet in elevation. Austin, the third human member of our group, decided to stay in camp a bit longer to mosey through breakfast.
The morning's trail snaked gradually up the valley through meadows and scattered groves of trees. Thankfully, as long as I kept moving with decent heart and breathing rates, the pain of altitude sickness loafed in the wings, leaving just a touch of discomfort. Brian left me to walk ahead when I stopped to shed some layers and filter my water with Aquamira. I was happy to hike alone in the rising sun and deep blue skies, truly enjoying this trip for the first time. I wondered how easy this would have been had I not been so susceptible to altitude sickness.
The morning's trail snaked gradually up the valley through meadows and scattered groves of trees. Thankfully, as long as I kept moving with decent heart and breathing rates, the pain of altitude sickness loafed in the wings, leaving just a touch of discomfort. Brian left me to walk ahead when I stopped to shed some layers and filter my water with Aquamira. I was happy to hike alone in the rising sun and deep blue skies, truly enjoying this trip for the first time. I wondered how easy this would have been had I not been so susceptible to altitude sickness.
The steep ascent up to Frigid Air Pass was a rough trek. Snow blocked parts of the official trail and I was forced to crawl up the slippery slopes, stopping every once in a while to catch my breath or regain my footing. I was so happy finally to reach the top. Brian was waiting for me at the apex, sipping coffee genteelly with another hiker we had met the day before. With less food and water to weigh him down, Brian was really fast and had arrived quite some time earlier. We waited together for Austin before continuing, who'd dropped his phone at one point and was also feeling the toll of the trek.
We continued at a good pace to the next pass nearby. Brian walked on ahead again at one point while I sat down to tend a growing blister on my foot. I opted to wait until Austin caught up to me and then continued up to the last pass within sight distance of him.
The last trek up to West Maroon Pass was a slow, gradual walk and required only a few breaks. The placid powder patterns swathing the ground, some in shadow and others shining in sunlight, contrasted with the gaseous giants seeming to gallop across the sky. This was nature no one could fail to fall in love with.
The steep climb down West Maroon Pass on the other hand was quite dangerous. This path would not have been our first choice, but the safer official route was again sheathed insurmountably in snow.
We stopped for a nice lunch on the other side of the pass, sharing one another's food. It was the best meal I'd had in what felt like a long, long time. Guacamole, cheese, honey almond butter, crackers, and hot chocolate. The thought of it still makes my mouth water.
At length the trek down the gentle downward slopes scattered the three of us apart. Multiple river and stream crossings guaranteed my feet remained wet. In one of the deepest crossings, we fought through an unrelenting current that tore at our upper thighs. Disconcertingly, thunder rumbled on the horizon even while the sun shined upon us in full force. Through it all, my eyes were drawn to a lake and waterfall far off in the distance, the trailside offering up the occasional patch of flowers at my fingertips to cheer me up.
Eventually I made it back to Crater Lake. Tessa found me first, and together we located Austin and Brian by the water's edge. Brian having already jumped into the ice cold waters for a dip was standing on shore, encouraging Austin to do the same.
The last few miles back to the trail head took us along the same route we'd followed two days ago, but none of us recognized much of it. Quick and light, Austin and I half walked-half ran the rest of the way. I caught up to Brian near the trail head, with Austin not far behind. We snapped a few last photos before heading to our car. We had hiked a total of thirty-four miles, more or less -- thirteen or so on this day alone -- and climbed about 12,000 feet. We gave Austin a lift to his car parked some ways farther down and then all returned to Aspen for dinner. Pizza has rarely tasted so good.
Austin was headed back to Denver. Having bid him goodbye -- we hope to see him on future trips! -- Brian and I began the three hour drive to Gunnison. As we drove I marveled at the surprising number of fourteeners (mountain peaks over 14,000 feet) visible from the highway. And as the sky grew dark, I embraced sleep's sweet siren's call. I slept well that night, immensely proud of my achievement.
