TR: Ice Mountain, Refrigerator Couloir, 7.15.05
SheRa, iskibc
Ice Mountain (13,951’) Sawatch Range
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*Photo taken from summitpost, showing the line from a distance.
“Zaaaaaaaaapppp!!!, a bolt of lightning cuts the sky in half and makes its resting place atop the ridge above. Lungs screaming for oxygen as I sprint down a field of large and very loose boulders at 11,600’. The darkness of the approaching storm swallowed more and more of the surrounding hills and valleys as we desperately sprinted for safety. Each echoing boom of thunder ricocheted off the rotting walls of sedimentary rock in the Three Apostles basin like a large canon going off in a small room.
“Now where and the hell is that final patch of snow down to tree line” I asked myself as another piercing bolt of lightning followed by a deep boom crashed down from the sky above. My thoughts weren’t making any sense since I had not slept in a day, so each movement and task seemed more and more difficult as time ticked. From above everything looked interconnected and simple. Not so much the case, as I slipped on a toppling boulder and my skis and poles flew in every which direction. I quickly gathered my gear and made another sprint for the next horizon. Drenched in sweat and damn near hyperventilating from pushing the body to its max, I was relieved to see the snowfield only a couple hundred yards down slope. Another lightning strike on the ridge and a crackle of thunder followed by a fierce gust of wind made me think twice about going for the snow slope just yet. I ducked in a small boulder shelter for a couple of minutes to catch my breath and check out the sky above. The darkness had overcome the basin we were in, and the sound of thunder was getting louder and louder.
It’s amazing how quickly this storm built over the area. Within 10 minutes a calm blue sky was erased by black thunderheads and fierce winds and lightning. Shortly after a series of booms and strikes, I emerged from the boulder and made a run for the snow patch. I don’t really remember clicking into my skis, but within a couple of seconds I was straight lining down the slope towards the willows and trees. The abrasions on my forearms and hands from falling on the loose boulders above were stinging in the wind as I bombed down the snowfield and skidded into the grassy exit. I kicked my skis off, threw ‘em over the shoulder and made another sprint for lower ground. I made it down to the stream and face planted in the middle of it as an ear piercing crack of thunder rattled the mountainside. I don’t really remember tripping or anything in the stream, but somehow I ended up face first in the shallow rushing water. A little relieved by the cool water, yet pissed about falling on my face, I quickly gathered my gear and ran for the trees. I hurried down the trail a ways until I found a well sheltered spot. I sat there for a few minutes and watched the storm circulate around the basin and then exit to the south and east several minutes later. Relieved, drenched, and exhausted, I took my boots off, and threw my tennis shoes on, stripped my jacket, helmet, and gloves, and continued down the trail. It took us 4 or so hours to reach the summit, but only an hour and a half to make it back down to the trailhead.
Clouds coming and going with Huron Peak in the background:
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Piss warm beers waited in the truck as I threw my gear in the back and cracked open a warm one within seconds. SheRa came down the trail about 2 beers later and looked like she had been in battle. We drove down the 4X4 road and checked out the ghost town of Winfield:
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SheRa knocking to see if anyone's home:
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Sleep deprivation, a tough peak, and some interesting weather made for some tired souls at the end of the day. Once again, the mountains demanded the respect and once again respect was served up. Electrical storms scare me more than anything related to the sport, so today was another one of those hair raising days for the books. And so here’s the story…….
Midnight, still no sleep, I decided to take a shower and hit the long road ahead. I love driving in the middle of the night. There’s nobody on the roads and the nighttime darkness forces the mind to think and focus. Did I mention there’s no traffic at this time of night?
I met up with a sleepy and dazed SheRa at the 7-11 in Scummit County. Loaded up her truck and began the second part of the trip towards the central Sawatch Range of Colorado. We arrived at the old mining town of Winfield around 3:45 AM and continued along the dirt road to the trailhead.
The first 1/3 of the hike is a near-zero elevation gain walk along some really lush meadows and thin forest. Since the overall climb is just under 4 miles each way and right around 3,400’ in elevation gain, I got a little concerned since we had already hiked over 2 miles and hadn’t gained much elevation. The hike into the basin is amazing, especially during a beautiful morning light.
The Three Apostles (North Apostle, Ice Mountain, and West Apostle) make up a very rugged and steep section of the otherwise mellow Central Sawatch Range. These peaks are by far the most rotted and dangerous mountains in Colorado.
North Apostle from Ice Mountain:
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There are no easy routes up the Three Apostles, as their ridges are narrow and exposed, and the faces are steep and rotten. Ice Mountain is made up of the same sedimentary purplish rock as the Maroon Bells and Castle group in the neighboring Elk Range.
The Refrigerator couloir is typically a climber’s route, but with its steepness and aesthetic nature I couldn’t pass this one up. We made it above tree line and into the Apostle basin just as the sun began to peak over the eastern horizon.
Sun creeping into the basin:
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The hiking is very easy up until this point, and then quickly gets steep and difficult. At first glance it looked as though we could ski all the way back to the lower stream crossing just above tree line, which would make it a nice 2,000’+ descent. Little did we know there was a good sized break in the snow on the other side of the small ridge separating Ice from West Apostle.
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