Over the years, I had made a number of attempts at an “official” ascent of Mount Evans, and all had been rebuffed. (I had climbed the peak from Summit Lake, but at only 1,420 vertical feet of hiking, I could hardly call that outing an “official” ascent.) With an offer coming in on our townhome, my plans for a return visit to Crestone Needle this particular weekend were impractical -- I would need to be around to sign documents on Saturday. So I decided to make one more stab at Evans on Sunday, despite my general distaste for climbing mountains that feature roads to their summits. (Thankfully, of Colorado’s fourteeners, only two -- Evans and Pikes -- are thus cursed.) I’d found the muddy bogs and the dense willows on Evans’ West Ridge route rather unappealing, and the exposure on the Sawtooth daunting. My choices seemed to be the Southwest Slopes route from the Scott Gomer trailhead and the Chicago Creek route from Echo Lake. After much indecision, I chose the latter. To sweeten the deal, I arranged for my Dad to be at the Summit Lake parking area at 1:00; he would shuttle me back to my car, saving me a six-mile hike back to Echo Lake. I left home at 5:05, and headed for the trailhead. I maintained an, um, energetic pace on the mostly empty roads, arriving at the Echo Lake picnic area and the trailhead before 6:00. Several vehicles were already parked there, but there were plenty of remaining spots from which to pick. By 6:15 I had visited the conveniently located sanitary facilities, laced up my boots, and shouldered my pack. I set my altimeter for 10,580 feet. There was little challenge to finding the trail. I walked south along the lake from its northwest corner, and soon found a sign informing me that I was indeed on the Chicago Lakes trail. I followed the obvious trail as it descended to cross Chicago Creek at 10,300 feet, then climbed to intersect the dirt road leading to the Idaho Springs Reservoir at 10,617 feet. It was along this road that I was nearly run down by a deer. I was walking along, minding my own business, when around the bend about thirty feet in front of me came a deer, running directly at me at top speed. I immediately stepped to the left margin of the trail, saying “Easy! Easy!” Thankfully, my hasty friend also veered to his left after recognizing that I was in his path. He passed me with perhaps three feet to spare, and never slowed down. I wondered what had spooked him (her?) so. I soon came to the reservoir, which looked quite low. There were a couple of cabins located a short distance above the reservoir, and shortly beyond them I found a sign marking the Mount Evans Wilderness boundary. Here, the road became a trail. The trail climbed steeply through the trees, and before very long it brought me to timberline. The cirque at the head of the Chicago Lakes basin had been visible for some time, and I wondered how the route would escape it. Trusting that all would be made clear in time, I pressed on. The trail began to descend as it approached the lower Chicago Lake at 11,420 feet, and it had to wind through a number of large boulders along the way. It became faint here and there, but never became particularly difficult to follow. After finding its way through the boulders, it began to climb steeply toward the upper lake. I plodded along. Upon reaching the upper lake, the trail -- having done its job -- disappeared. I scanned the area for a continuing path, and initially became discouraged, finding none. The exit from the cirque still remained a mystery. I was frustrated. Finally, I spotted what might be a faint trail across the lake, on its southeast side. I crossed the outlet stream on conveniently located rocks, then started up the continuing trail. A number of trail segments climbed the steep slopes above the lake, heading for the shallow saddle at 13,060 feet on Mount Warren’s west ridge. I followed the most prominent of them, until it, too, faded away, then I climbed directly up the steep scree, toward the shallow saddle. As I climbed into it, the view opened before me: Mount Evans to the south, its west ridge to the southwest, Mount Spalding to the west, the Chicago Lakes basin behind me, to the north, and the plains stretching infinitely to the east. The few puffy clouds that dotted the sky looked reasonably benign, and incapable of jeopardizing my summit bid without the addition of some afternoon heat. I expected to be back at the trailhead well before any lightning would threaten the area. At this point, I had a decision to make. I could head west, climb Spalding’s east ridge, stroll down its south slopes, then tackle Evans via its west ridge, or I could descend to Summit Lake and use the shorter Northeast Face route. As I was running about 15 minutes behind my projections, I chose the shorter alternative despite my interest in Evans’ west ridge, and began the short hike down to Summit Lake. Summit Lake is located just off the Mount Evans road at 12,850 feet, and a large parking area has been built there. Many visitors seem to find the alpine lake at least as inviting as the rocky summit above, and the lot is often packed. I crossed the lot and began the quarter-mile hike up the road to the base of the Northeast Face route. As I would soon learn, I left the road and started up the face a bit early. I didn’t remember the route being so rocky, but I wasn’t quite on the route; I was on the talus on the northern edge of the face rather than the grass-and-scree slopes in the middle of it. When I realized this, I wasn’t particularly eager to correct my “mistake.” Climbing the rocks seemed more agreeable than plodding up the one-step-forward-two-steps-back scree or -- worse yet -- trampling the tundra vegetation. So I climbed on, occasionally taking advantage of an opportunity to do a little light bouldering. Each time my route-finding brought me to the edge of the face (with the attendant views across the much, much steeper north face) I angled a bit more to the south. Finally, the summit -- and the tourists perched on the summit -- came into view. I continued my slow progress up the talus to a point where it seemed prudent to make a short scrambling descent away from the north face; I then joined the tourists for a stroll up the last few switchbacks along the trail from the summit parking area to the summit proper. With the batteries in my camera on their last legs, I snapped a close-up of the summit marker, then found a comfy rock on which to take a short break before beginning my descent. I had reached the summit at exactly 12:00, precisely on schedule. I had a little snack and snapped a couple of photos as parents nervously ordered their kids away from the sheer north face and groups of adults took photos of each other (seemingly, of each possible combination and permutation). I told what I knew of the Sawtooth to a young couple that inquired about that route, and when asked, I snapped one gentleman’s picture with Bierstadt, Grays and Torreys in the background. At 12:20, reasonably well rested, I started down, accompanied by someone’s car alarm blaring in the parking lot. I didn’t want my Dad to have to wait too long for me at Summit Lake, so I set an energetic pace down the well-worn, serpentine path through the scree. I made much better time than I would have descending the talus I had climbed from the road, and I reached the Summit Lake parking area at 1:13. I was footsore, with eight miles and nearly 4,200 vertical feet to my credit, but I had bagged my 37th fourteener (putting me at the two-thirds mark). I had also broken a three-year dry spell, during which other obligations and poor conditioning had prevented me from bagging any “new” fourteener summits.

Warning: Mountain climbing entails certain risks and can be a dangerous activity. Many Colorado peaks have seen climbing fatalities. The most common factors in mountaineering accidents are poor judgement, inadequate physical conditioning and improper equipment. When faced with bad weather, fatigue or terrain that may be beyond your abilities, turn back. The mountain will still be there when you’re stronger, more experienced or better-equipped for another attempt. And remember: the summit is only the halfway point. Many accidents occur while a party is descending from the summit. If you climb, do not rely solely on the information contained herein. Do not assume that the route descriptions are completely accurate. The route descriptions were written after-the-fact from memory, and human memory is fallible. In addition, many factors (especially weather) can cause a route that is normally a “walk-up” to become a serious, hazardous proposition. Thoroughly research your route, have appropriate equipment, anticipate sudden and drastic changes in alpine weather, and know your abilities and limitations. Seek professional instruction before climbing, and build your climbing skills gradually: climb several easier peaks before attempting a more difficult route. Don’t become a statistic!

Text and photo(s) copyright © 2001 Mark R. Vanderbrook.
All rights reserved.