Nolans' 99

     I wasn't able to make the start of the original Nolans' 14 event. I
left out in my vehicle from the East driving to Colorado, but determined
that I might or might not make the start on time, and if so, with no sleep,
so I decided to turn around in Indiana.
    I still wanted to attempt the course and scheduled a flight to Denver
for the next weekend with frequent flyer miles donated from my bro for a
solo attempt.
    I was up late Friday night getting my gear prepared, and had to get an
early start at around 3 a.m. to make the flight time of approximately 5.
a.m. in Charleston, WV.
    Simon Shadowlight from Co. had graciously offered to give me a ride to
the Sawatch Range from Denver, and was going to accompany me on the 1st
climb.
     After a longer than expected travel day to the southern end of the
Swatch range because of Memorial Day weekend traffic, we ended up taking off
at around 6:30 that evening.
      I used an ultimate direction adventure race pack, filled with around
40 pounds of necessities for my self-supported attempt, and it slowed me
considerably, but expectedly, as I was also unacclimated.
      We summated Shavano around 10:00 that night under very clear but cold
and windy skies.
      We then made the short traverse along the saddle between Shavano and
T2, T2 being my designation of the second peak, and summated T2 around 11
p.m.
      From there, Simon would continue back across the saddle and over
Shavano again, back down to his vehicle. And I would continue on solo for
the rest of my attempt.
      I had no real knowledge of the route used between these summits and
the third 14'er, Antero, and the maps I used were large-scale grayscale
color maps copied on ordinary paper. So I determined that I would take a
variation of the route mentioned in Roachs' guide, route 18.6 NE slopes 2,
class 2, to descend to the Brown's creek area.
       It was a variation of the descent in that, Roachs' route traverses
from T2's summit across a small saddle NE to point 13,712 before descending
the ridge into Browns creek, however, that exact route is only known by me
now in hindsight with the book at hand. At the time, after descending the
saddle between the Shavano and T2 summits, I determined that the route
descended directly down the draw of the mountain, and started out down the
very steep but grassy slopes directly N from the saddle.
       It quickly became steeper and eventually quite rocky, although with
much smaller rocks than the common boulders of the Sawatch Range.
       The steepness became severe as it funneled me down a chute towards
the edge of a seemingly intimidating abyss. It was too steep to reason the
effort of climbing back up and over towards more negotiable ground,
especially with the weight of the pack, so I took my chances with the abyss.
       As the chute narrowed to 30 or so feet wide, it became even steeper,
and the rock covered ground had turned to dirt and small loose rock, where
most anything above pebble size had long since slid down and over the edge.
       As the chute narrowed to 20 then 10 feet wide, again it was steeper,
and I recall at the time humorously thinking to myself that I had mistakenly
descended Hoover Dam, with dirt and rocks glued to the side. The steepness
was such that I carefully moved like a spider, with 4 points of contact and
5 including my butt with single slow moves.
       With each move dirt and loose pebbles cascaded down the slope and
over the edge of the abyss. I was concerned about how big a drop off there
would be over the edge, as I had no idea with the limited range of my AA
flashlight. I could only see blackness beyond the drop off.
       I carefully worked my way to the edge and over, as it was a very
negotiable small but vertical climb down a few big rocks, only 10 or 15
feet.
      Another draw, this one with a slight amount of icy running water,
converged from above from the left at this point as well.
      From there the less intimidating draw, a small rocky creek bed now
with slight running water, funneled me into a very thickly overgrown forest
with lots of blow downs, and then further into a marshy swamp like area.
>From there I came to the creek I later learned was Browns creek.
      In the pitch darkness of the forest I sat on a log and took off my wet
shoes and socks and put dry socks on and got something to eat. After a 15
minute or so rest I began to search for a way up and out of the area,
looking for some old jeep trails shown on my maps. I got turned around down
in there in the darkness of the evergreens with no trail, as the hillside
north of the creek was itself covered with smaller steep hills with no
understandable lay, and eventually I was able to work my way upstream
through the forest up along the hillside, and came into some open areas
among the pines. In the bluish moonlight I could better get my bearings and
not long after located a jeep trail winding through the forest in a westward
direction up towards the basin.
      The descent had been slow, and it was now around 2:30 A.M. I handle
lack of sleep exceptionally well, but I had already been up almost 24 hours,
and the flight left me more tired than usual, and it was hard to keep my
eyes open, so I sat under a tree using my pack as a backrest and took a
15-minute nap.
       Not long after, the jeep trail led up to the open, brightly moonlit
basin, and I could confirm the trail as shown switchbacking up the N eastern
side of the basin towards Antero on my maps, which held little detail
because of their large scale. As I climbed the jeep trail I again was having
trouble keeping my eyes open. They were heavier more so than I was sleepy,
so I again reclined on my pack for another short nap.
       The trail came to a point where it diverged, and I wasn't sure of the
exact route because of the lack of detail on my maps. The jeep trail shown
was vague, and I decided to continue towards the left, as directly to my
right, to the east, loomed the large mountainside of Mt.White, which was the
northern wall of the Browns Creek area from which I had just ascended.
       Not long after as I closed in on the leveling horizon of the long
ridgeline, a very large, prominent volcano-like peak came into view just to
the NW. I ascended the ridgeline towards the peak until it climbed up the
steep side of the boulder-strewn slope.
        I climbed under a very beautiful nighttime sky, with Venus and the
bright crescent moon high in the Eastern sky over my right shoulder.
       While the peak was a consistent grade, it gave a false indication of
the summit above, and I never seemed to gain ground as I looked up towards
the pyramid and the bright stars surrounding it. But there was considerable
evidence of making ground looking to the sides and far below behind me.
       The eastern horizon began to glow with the faint light blue hue of
approaching daylight as I climbed high onto the cold peak, and a mountain
that seemed higher appeared in the NE just across the valley, and I had
doubt as to whether or not I was ascending the correct peak.
       Not long after I finally reached the summit, and the register at the
top showed that the peak was 13, 872 feet high.
       I have since learned this was North Carbonate Mountain, just west
across from Antero.
      As I made my way down, the boulders had a slippery glaze of ice that I
hadn't taken notice of on the ascent, and made descending somewhat slow in
the lightening sky.
      Once down from the steep slope I traversed the edge of the ridge
leading to the east across and into the high basin between Antero and the
northern wall of the Browns Creek area, Mt. White.
      To my immediate left was a large vertical wall that dropped far below
and formed the enclosing south wall of Baldwin Gulch, which was bound by
Carbonate Mountain to the west, and Antero to the east. In Roachs' guide,
this route is shown as route 1EC, an extra credit climb and route listed
with Antero routes.
      In the warm early morning sun I again took 10 or 15 minutes to close
my eyes reclining on my pack in the open basin.
      Upon reaching the western slopes of Antero, I took the jeep trail
leading up around the southern slope of Antero to the prospects, shown as
approach 1 in Roaches' guide. I summated Antero after nine under nice, sunny
morning skies.
      Descending back to the Prospects along Route 1, I decided to take
Antero's steep western slope down into Baldwin Gulch rather than continue
back down the south side along the jeep trail from the prospects, on advice
from Blake Woods' notes, and, as at this point a direct route seemed in
order.
      It was slow moving down the boulders and sliding rocks of the steep
descent into Baldwin Gulch, to where I again picked up the jeep trail that
had wound around into the gulch from the southern slope.
      By this point the sharp granite had already worn through the strings
on my gaiters and I had to stop a few times on the steep descent to get the
dust and rocks out of my shoes.
      As I reached and descended the jeep trail, traffic was plentiful with
Memorial Day hikers, ATVs, and vehicles driving up to the Prospects, kicking
up dust.
       I was quite thirsty, as I had not come across water since the Browns
Creek supply from the middle of the night. I was somewhat dehydrated and
eventually crossed a stream far down below treeline in Baldwin Gulch.
      The sky was as blue as blue gets and completely cloudless, and
surprisingly it was quite hot.
       I very slowly made my way into the small community of Alpine around
2:00 that afternoon.
       At this point I realized that although I was very confident and
competent with a map and compass, route selection ascending and descending
these peaks made a big difference in time, and while I was competent in
getting to the summits, I was ignorant of the easiest and quickest routes in
doing so.
       I would not have a full 60 hours to negotiate the course as it was,
being that it was Sunday, and I had a return flight from Denver Tuesday
afternoon, and my way back to Denver was of the vagabond hitchhiking style.
So likely I would have to start towards Denver on Monday, considering it is
very hard if not impossible to get a ride at night, and waiting to start
back to Denver from the Sawatch on Tuesday morning would be taking
considerable risk of not making the flight time. So speed was not an issue
at that point.
       I stopped to talk to some nice people working in their front yard in
Alpine and asked if I could use their phone. They let me use the portable
phone from their yard to phone home, and they also pointed me in the
direction of the Grouse Canyon trail.
      As I slowly proceeded to the trail, I again stopped and talked with
someone who lived very close to the trail just within the heavily forested
woods. He told me the exact place to turn into the forest just a hundred
yards or so up the jeep trail, and warned me of a lot of bear activity
recently in the area.
     Once inside the thick of the warm forest, just after taking the turn at
the start of the trail, I sat amongst the mosquitoes in the brush and ate.
As I ate I kept my heavy eyes shut for comfort, and gave thought to, but
didn't much care, about sitting in the woods eating tuna and pasta with
bears in the area.
      After eating and then sitting there peacefully with my eyes shut for
10 minutes, I continued up the dusty trail gaining elevation as it climbed
up the canyon wall out of the valley between Anteros' northern slopes, and
the far reaching southern slopes of Princeton.
       I was getting a late start up Princeton, as I wanted to summit in the
evening by nightfall, and had taken considerable time being slow moving
through Alpine, and it was now around or just after 4:00.
       While Blake described this route and trail somewhat awkwardly to me,
and there had been some confusion about the trail in the previous week at
Nolan's, I had no trouble negotiating the Grouse Canyon trail as it climbed
into the higher pine forested canyon.
       I got more water in Grouse Creek and came to a camp site where no one
was present, but only gear and some llamas.
       I was unsure where to leave the creek side trail and cross through
into the thick evergreens to reach the open canyon basin above treeline,
just below the steep western slopes of the Princeton summit ridge. Again, my
maps were of such large scale that the terrain features and representation
of forest and such rendered them useless for exact navigation. So I simply
crossed into the forests' hillside and slowly worked my way up through the
seemingly endless patch of trees and grass till I finally came out into the
upper basin below the steep western wall of Princeton.
      It was here that I didn't understand the notes exactly, and there had
been the most confusion of the best route to ascend to the Princeton summit
ridge.
      I could see no place that looked reasonable to negotiate the steep
wall to gain access to the ridgeline above. And so continued looking for an
accessible place to scramble as I moved further up towards the northern
wall, surrounded by the steep wall on all sides, except to my rear to the
south where I had ascended from.
      As I plodded along forward I considered the slightly lower saddle of
the northern wall in front of me that boxed the canyon in as a possible
route as it appeared to be a safer looking scramble and traverse, even
though it would be a longer route.
      What weighed on me was that the sun was setting below the high canyon
wall far to my left, and the shadows were getting long.
      I saw some big, white, mountain sheep ahead, which stayed just ahead
of me and then ascended the steep wall to my right that I had to climb as
well. They moved effortlessly and quickly up the seemingly vertical rocky
wall. Seeing them so small as they moved higher up towards the ridge also
made me realize how big the wall was, as it was so easy to underestimate
size and distance, particularly here. The only sun that was left now was on
the eastern wall to my right, and it was getting chilly.
       Gaining access to the ridge high above seemed difficult and
dangerous, not because of the steepness of the wall itself, but because of
the seemingly vertical cliffs and rocks that capped the ridgeline along the
top.
       As I drew closer towards the end of the basin, with the sheep now
high up on the wall themselves, I saw what looked like a vantage point close
to the top of the scramble to my right on the eastern wall. I studied it as
I moved on up the basin till I was directly under it and decided it was the
best route I'd seen.
       I slowly scrambled up the large and unstable rocks and boulders,
often peering upside down to the canyon below through my legs as I rested,
getting my breath back waiting for another push, and watched as the last of
the sun lit the highest rocks of the ridge above before disappearing.
       Each push started with good upwardly consistent movement for 30 or 40
seconds, till my breathing became labored again in the thin air, and the
lactate acid built up in my legs, forcing me to stop and gather my wind
again. It was then that I'd simply freeze in mid scrambling motion, and peer
between my legs into the steepness below gathering strength.
        Prominent points that appeared to be 20 yards above turned out to be
40 or 50 yards away, and rocks that appeared to be of moderate size turned
out to be boulders. What I would judge to be a goal along the way turned out
to require three or four times as many pushes as I thought as well. And the
last steep section of dusty slide that I had determined to be the vantage
point turned out to be about four times the size of what it had appeared to
be from below. It was as if the surroundings were getting bigger and I was
getting smaller the higher on the ridge I got.
       The vantage point turned out to work well, as aside from the somewhat
intimidating feeling of falling backwards, was quite negotiable and safe,
with careful moves as the narrowing scramble of dust led on to the ridge
through a seemingly vertical push between the gap of the cliffs and rocks
that capped the ridgeline.
       Sunlight was nowhere to be seen once on top and the sky held the dark
blue hue of evening overhead, lightening to the west, blackening in the
east. Cold and wind struck me once on the ridge and I was somewhat
disappointed to see that a long ridge of prominent rocky pyramids extended
as far as I could see to the east along a sharp ridgeline, and I would have
to traverse back in the southern direction along the sharp north-south
ridgeline to reach that.
      Towards the south just ahead of me, slightly off the edge of the
canyon wall I had ascended stood a large pyramid of rocks from which the
eastern-leading ridge to Princeton's summit extended. It had been unseen
from below in the canyon, but now stood as a dark, intimidating silhouette
to be reckoned with.
      To my right just over the boulders was the steep wall of Grouse
Canyon, to my immediate left, a further dropping equally steep mountainside
of rocks fell from the ridges of Princeton. The entire mountaintop of
Princeton, nothing but very long sharp ridgelines that extended off to the
west from the main summit and after a ways diverged into another sharp ridge
that lead off in opposite directions to the north and south, the very
northern ridge that I now was on.
      The prominent point in front of me, in hindsight, turns out to be the
much-debated point 13,971. As approached from the southern side of the
ridge, it seems to be a formidable pyramid to negotiate to gain access to
the long sharp east west ridge of pyramids that leads to the Princeton
summit.
       I was feeling somewhat uneasy here, more so a feeling of considerable
anxiousness in light of the route and exposure, the cold and high wind, and
with the fatigue from lack of sleep that was setting in with the 2nd night's
darkness. But surprisingly, the rocks had a natural route that led just
below the pyramid of point 13,971, and was actually quite a safe route.
      The route angled upward slightly below the east west summit ridge of
pyramids that extended to the east in front of me, and seemed to stay just
below the ridge on the left side as it traversed along.
      The pyramids were many false summits, again and again, as I was
certain each was the summit, only to see another dark silhouette looming in
front of me along the razor thin ridgeline, till I finally reached the
actual summit of Princeton around 9:30 or so, as the very last hint of light
faded from the western sky.
      While the summit was very cold and windy, I didn't care as I curled up
under a space blanket to sleep behind the rock wind shelter. The sky was as
it had been since I had been in Colorado, beautiful and clear, and I slept
well for a while as my space blanket became smaller and smaller as pieces of
it were torn on the sharp rocks and in the loud, high wind and went flying
away up into the sky and off the summit, "Auntie Em! Auntie Em!"
       I was eventually too cold and too stiff from being curled up to sleep
anymore, and the last piece of space blanket nothing but a scarf, and had to
move off of the summit, so I began to descend the steep eastern slope
leading off of the summit along the main route used for summating the peak.
The wind was calmer and quieter as I climbed down over the boulders.
       Around 20 minutes later I was spooked as I heard voices talking, and
rightly so, as someone yelled out "Is someone there"?
      There were 2 men reclined on some boulders cold and hungry, who had
left their packs lower to make a push for the summit in the early evening,
and had summated, but could not locate their packs while descending in the
dark. I sat and spoke with them awhile. They were nice and were glad for
some company sitting there in the cold. They, Bing and Gunther, were
professors from Nebraska University in Omaha, and had driven to the Sawatch
to summit Mt. Princeton for the Memorial Day weekend.
       After talking with them I moved on and around 10 minutes later, lower
down, I came across their packs. I took them back up to them, and they
gladly put warmer clothes on and drank water, and in turn, gave a drink of
water to me, as again I had been without for around eight hours since the
creek in Grouse Canyon.
       After another short conversation, I moved on lower again, stopping to
sleep once it was somewhat warmer. After an hour or so I moved out yet
again, and once light came not long after, slept in the warmth of a grassy
slope.
       After the early morning nap, I proceeded down the standard route and
onto the jeep trail that leads up Princeton's east side. Again it got hot in
the morning sun quickly and I was somewhat surprised that there were simply
no creeks running down the sides of the mountain. Only the big creeks that
ran down through the canyons of these mountains had water, and I had wrongly
assumed that like the San Juan mountains of SW Co., which were full of
flowing cold water, that there would be plenty of water available in Sawatch
also, but there was not.
       I was again almost dehydrated, having had only a small amount of
water on the mountain in the night since filling up my bottles in the late
afternoon of the previous day in Grouse Canyon, where I had then run out
while scrambling up the steep canyon wall.
       The winding jeep trail was a long ways down the mountainside. Again
morning hikers, vehicles and mountain bikers were common ascending the
mountain, as I went down.
       I eventually descended and came to the campground where I saw a sign
for some missing small dogs and said a prayer for them. After, I moved on in
search of water and finally came to the small resort of Princeton hot
springs with a motel and convenient store around 11 a.m.
      The water was great, and refreshed, I ate and reasoned that continuing
on to Mt. Yale wasn't in order, as I had descended the eastern side of
Princeton, and Yale was a good 15 miles or so to the NW from the N side of
Princeton, whereas I had to be in Denver the next afternoon, so I thought it
was best to work my way to Denver from where I was.
       As I was on the phone in the motel lobby an Oriental person looking
exhausted and spent walked in, and I immediately thought it must have been
Bing from high on the mountain. I hadn't seen them in the dark but could
tell Bing was oriental, and turns out it was him. Gunther came in close
behind.
       They were driving back to Nebraska in an hour or so and were heading
through Denver and I so had a sure ride all the way.
       We took a different route to Denver from the southern end of the
Sawatch than going through Leadville, a route with bigger open valleys and
beautiful scenery.
       They dropped me off in Denver as I declined their offer to take me
out of their way  all the way to the airport, and after I was unable to get
a ride to the airport that night, slept among a few small trees off the side
of an entrance ramp to the highway in the cold. I made it to the airport in
2 rides by mid morning and had an uneventful but safe flight back.
       All in all I summated 4 of the 14'ers and the 13,872 foot peak in
around 27 hours on the course and had an overall great experience.
        Thanks be to GOD and JESUS for the strength and safety granted me,
along with all other countless blessings!