Climbing Around Aspen

Aspen in the summer of 1970 was full of active people.  Rugby had become popular.  Waitresses and bartenders would bicycle up Maroon Creek or Castle Creek or up Independence Pass before showing up for their evening shift.  Therefore I was not surprised when Sally, a waitress at my favorite bar, asked me one evening if I would take her mountain climbing.  She was going out with a friend of mine and he had recommended me as a mountain guide.

She was in good shape so I agreed.  Our first climb was New York Peak, a pinnacle jutting like a diamond up from a ridge that parallels the south side of the highway up to Independence Pass.  I had climbed this peak with Axe the summer before and it seemed like a good beginner climb.  It was also visible from the highway, so she could point it out to her friends.  It offered some nice exposure and simple rock climbing and the ridge was just a short traverse away if she got nervous.

The road in is marginal but I found a flat place to park sort of close to the peak.  Our first challenge was crossing the Roaring Fork, which undercut the forest floor here and flowed far beneath us, leaving us to cross by leaping a narrow chasm.  One slip, of course, meant a painful death. 

Sally blithely leaped across the open space and I followed and up we went.  I dutifully carried my climbing rope, the same one bought in high school in a joint venture with Axe and Tiger, and probably more of a psychological aid.

It was a nice experience for her.  We stood on the summit, the wind drying our sweat, gazing at the surrounding ridges and mountaintops.   She got quite excited and said she wanted to do another one.

A few weeks later we got together and climbed Pyramid Peak.  This is a 14000 foot peak a long par five from the Maroon Bells, but the rock composing Pyramid is much more solid than the Maroon Bells, which I never dared approach.

Pyramid I had climbed with Jim and later with Lee and a couple of other guys so I felt confident to lead her up.

After leaving Maroon Lake, the climb begins with a long scrambling hike through narrow valleys and up some steep ridges.  Near the summit we came to a steep face.  I asked her if she wanted to tie in to the rope, but she said she was fine, so up we went, side by side so I could coach her on hand and foot placement.  We were having a fine time when suddenly there was a loud explosion, a blast that caused us both to flatten onto the rocks and hang on.  The blast resolved into the echo of a sonic boom; a jet fighter had zipped overhead with no consideration for who might be in a delicate position on a mountainside.  We gasped and looked around. 

She said she was okay so we completed climbing the face.  From there it was a steep hike to the summit.  We sat drinking water, eating cheese and sausage, and enjoying the view of the mountains and lakes below us.  She laughed and said she wanted to do another.

Our third peak was Capitol Peak.  As some of you may remember that the mountain reached by quite a long hike in.  It was the first mountain I climbed in Colorado, with Steve and Jim about two days after we arrived in Aspen in 1967.  Then there was the climb of the pregnant women, although I don’t think that Suzi or N. G. or Deanne (did I miss anybody?) went further than the base camp.

This is another14000 foot mountain.  The first stage is a long steep hike up to a pass that can take the determined hiker to Snowmass Creek.  But the climber turns right and avoids the ridge by scrambling parallel to the ridge ever higher up the mountain until scramble and ridge meet prior to the summit at a narrow ridge, called the Knife Edge. This ridge is about 150 feet across and varies from one to two feet wide and appears to drop several hundred feet on either side. One side is an overhang.  Here Jim and Steve and I had roped up on our climb.  The crossing is accomplished by placing your hands on the overhang side, leaning back and shuffling sideways.  Although I imagine Axe could have, and probably has, jauntily strode along the ridge top, I was happy to shuffle.

We stood there looking at the Knife Edge while I explained the route and the method to cross.  I asked her again if she wanted to rope up.  Nope, she said, I haven’t yet and I won’t start now.

So across we shuffled.  My head was swinging back and forth, checking my progress and checking that Sally was in no danger of slipping to oblivion.  She was doing fine, and soon we were clambering up to the broad summit of Capitol Peak.

As we were hiking out, she said that she was done climbing.

A few years later I took Jane up some of these same mountains, and although she and I hiked into Capitol Lake at the base I never climbed Capitol Peak again.

Nick