FOUR PASS LOOP – “Completing Day Two”

We were late... We woke up late. We ate breakfast late. We filtered water late. We broke down camp late. We eventually hit the trail a little after 9:00AM. Trust me, that's hella late. We had over 7 miles and two passes to cover before early afternoon when the mountain weather gets as unpredictably moody as a newborn. 

REALITY CHECK

It became very apparent that our first day’s hike into Crater Lake was a mere warm-up for the real trail towards West Maroon Pass. This section was rockier and gained elevation relentlessly. I ached with doubt as I panted and stopped more frequently than I care to quantify. I foolishly believed it would be cooler above 11,000ft., but it’s as if the sun maliciously scorches you with its fingertips. Although I was excited when West Maroon Pass came into view, I was discouraged when the ant-sized people making their way up the long treeless switchbacks came into focus. It was a sluggish death march. Eventually, this ant crawled his way up the hill to 12,500ft. and enjoyed some well-deserved jerky and a Cliff Bar.

Although the trail was tough, I typically hike at a brisk pace. I'm not racing; it's just how I walk. With that said, I spent the next hour waiting for my friend to make his way up the first pass. Eventually, he came into view and slowly trudged up the anthill. By now it was about 1:00PM. We still had to hike down, across, up another pass, down, and make our way into the Fravert Basin to make camp before the cranky mountain weather woke up from its nap. My planning identified our campsite for the evening was just off of the North Fork of the Crystal River, not far from a waterfall. The skies were electric blue with white cotton candy clouds.

On top of West Maroon Pass

After allowing my friend some recovery time, we started our descent from West Maroon Pass just before 1:30PM. My knees felt like rusted iron as we pounded down switchback after switchback into a prairie basin dotted with ponds and wildflowers. Once we had descended into the basin we followed the trail towards Frigid Air Pass, our second and final pass of the day. The hike through the prairie basin was peaceful and beautiful. I was tired but feeling good and looking forward to a nice hot meal and completing 2 out of the 4 passes of our trip by the end of day two. 

The trail towards Frigid Air Pass steadily crept back up the side of the range over the course of a couple miles in preparation for the pass. A small pond and fork in the trail sat at the foot of the switchbacks leading up to the pass. BOOM! I turned around to see a dark mass of storm clouds the next range over. Tired, but determined, I began my ascent. After a few switchbacks I ran out of water. I knew we would filter water from the river by our planned campsite, so the mild thirst didn't bother me too much. Halfway up Frigid Air Pass the trail gets very loose and steep, making it a bit challenging to hike weighed down with a pack. Exhausted and thirsty, I reached the top and turned my attention to the storm clouds that were now engulfing the neighboring range. I looked back down the trail and saw no sign of my friend. BOOM! 

Half-an-hour later my friend broke the horizon of the trail. At this point he still had over a half mile of trail to the top of the pass. I tried to estimate how long it would take the storm cell to reach us. I wondered who would reach the pass first. I could tell my friend was cashed. Spent. Done. He'd take 10 steps, stand. Take 10 steps, stand. He eventually made it to the switchbacks, and with me carrying his pack, we both stood on top of Frigid Air Pass at 3:30PM. By this time I could feel the atmosphere changing. The baby was awake and had a full diaper for us. 

The prairie basin between the passes

DIRTY DIAPER

I knew we had to move quickly. We began making our way down the other side of Frigid Air Pass as drops of rain began to fall. Five minutes later, perfectly round pellets of hail began to bounce off of our heads, shoulders, and packs. They looked like little pieces of packing Styrofoam; but denser, faster, and more painful. We paused for a few minutes to don our rain pants and jackets. Although, neither one of us located our pack covers in the chaos, we pulled out our tent’s rainfly for temporary shelter from the hail. Then, a sudden flash of light caught my attention.CRACK! BOOM!We’re at 12,000 ft., on top of a mountain, being pelted by hail, and hiding under a rain-fly during a lightning storm.Fireplace. Beef stew. Down comforter. Hot tea. Warm bed.There were not enough comforting thoughts to quell the voice in my head that screamed,“We need to get off the top of this mountain and find shelter!”The trails were muddy streams at this point. The hail had subsided and a steady volume of rain, lightning, and thunder took over. We hiked for another 30 minutes until we reached the first viable camp location we could find. We set up our tent and began to take inventory of our surroundings.

Our situation was not ideal. We were both soaked to the bone and the contents of our packs were wet, as well as the inside of our tent. We were exhausted, hungry, and dehydrated. We did not have any water between us, nor an accessible water source. Unfortunately, almost all of our food required water. More importantly, WE required water. I could hear a river in a nearby ravine, but neither one of us were in any condition to go traipsing down a ravine for an uncertain distance and be able to hike back out during the storm. My friend and I were both shivering and on the verge of hypothermia. We crawled into our mummy bags to maintain our body temperatures. 

It was almost completely dark by the time I realized I hadn't taken my altitude meds and that our food bag was still lying next to the tent. Do I want to risk altitude sickness? Do I want to risk a pack of squirrels or a hungry bear wandering into our makeshift campsite and compromising our food supplies? It took a lot of will to get out of my sleeping bag, put on my wet clothes, grab my headlamp, and step out of our tent into the cold. I decided to start with my altitude meds. My mouth was completely dry. I could not summon an ounce of saliva. I placed the little dry, bitter, chalky pill on my tongue and waited for it to melt enough so I could swallow it. Next, I grabbed the line out of our food bag and remembered I had a couple pouches of tuna; they don’t require water and have some amount of moisture. I removed the two small pouches from the food bag and searched for a nearby pine branch. There weren't many to choose from, but I found one that would do the trick. I tied a rock to the line and threw it over the branch until I could suspend our food. Then, I devoured the tuna pouches, crawled into the tent, and passed out in my mummy bag.

Our storm-soaked clothing

QUITTING IS NOT AN OPTION

Day two was filled with pride and frustration. I was proud that we made it over 2 of the 4 passes and had the opportunity to experience so much beautiful Colorado mountain landscape. But I was frustrated with our situation at the end of the day and that we were in no way “set up for success” on our third day. However, what I found more grating than anything was what I perceived as my friend’s self-defeatist attitude. My friend trained in preparation for the trip, but still had his ass handed to him by the mountains. Hell, I had my ass politely presented to me by the mountains. However, the mountains spit on my friend’s ass, threw it on the ground, kicked it, and yelled at him to“pick it up!”Needless to say, Four Pass Loop is a difficult hike. He was discouraged. He wanted to turn back. He wanted to quit. He didn’t think he could do it. Hebelievedhe could not do it. This infuriated me. That night I yelled at him using a spectrum of profanity. I felt his self-defeatist attitude was making it even more difficult for us to succeed. I told him that we would not turn back. I told him the only direction we will go is forward. I told him that we will leave after we complete all four passes. I told him that quitting was not an option.  

The next morning we continued. On our third day we made up the distance we missed in day two and conquered Trail Rider Pass. Even the moody mountain weather slept long enough for us to dry out our packs and enjoy a replenishing dinner at our campsite near Snowmass Lake. During our final day we started early and were over Buckskin Pass before noon. After our last pass, it was a long, but entirely downhill hike back to the parking lot. My friend hiked stronger and quicker the final two days. He proved to himself that he could persevere through the pain and self-doubt that poisoned his mind. I never doubted our ability to complete the hike and I’m proud of my friend for allowing himself to finish. We’re capable of so much more than that for which we give ourselves credit. We find inner strength and focus in exhaustion, hunger, and dehydration. We march one step at a time through the hail on these rocky mountains of life. 

-Don

The Maroon Bells in Maroon Lake