Ever since reading an article about spending a moonlit evening in the Boulderfield on Longs’ northeast shoulder, I had wanted to do this climb. So, on January 2nd, I reserved one of the ten rock-ringed tent sites for the evening of Wednesday, July 24, and began waiting for summer. The moon would be two days from full, and the Boulderfield would be quite a spectacle.
When Donna, my regular climbing companion, had to back-out a month or so in advance, I was scrambling for a partner. That was when I discovered that Paulette, one of my co-workers at the News, had already made one attempt at Longs, and was eager for another shot. Her father and brother-in-law wanted to go, too. And two tent sites were available for the evening of Saturday, July 27. The reservations were swapped, and by 9:00 Saturday morning, Paulette and I were carrying our rented, fully-laden North Face Snow Leopard packs up the trail from the Longs Peak ranger station. Her father and brother-in-law had come separately, and set out at 4:55 to ensure an early arrival at the Boulderfield.
The change in dates proved rather fortunate, after all. A sign at the ranger station indicated that there had been snow well below the Boulderfield on the date I had originally planned to camp.
Though never terribly steep, the well-maintained trail soon climbed above
treeline. Before very long, the precipitous east face of Longs, dominated
by the sheer Diamond, came into view, then the turnoff for dramatic Chasm
Lake (see photo).
After
a brief rest, we set off again, heading for Granite Pass and the switchbacks
that would bring us to our campsite.
At about 3:00, we lumbered into the Boulderfield, six miles and more than 3300 vertical feet from the trailhead. We found Paulette’s father and brother-in-law, well-rested from their hike up. While they had required seven hours to make the trip, Paulette and I had made it in five and one-half.
As the weather had begun to look threatening, we immediately turned our attention to erecting our shelter: Donna’s North Face tent. It went up quickly, and we were soon filtering water into our pots from the alpine brook which meandered among the boulders. The clouds had thrown a few snow pellets at us, then given up.
Everyone except Paulette’s father was eager for some warm food; he was not feeling particularly well, and would eat little. He was quite displeased that the solar toilet promised in the NPS literature was nowhere to be found.
Supper was prepared around 5:30, and consisted of freeze-dried Shrimp Cantonese, Beef Burgundy and corn. The beef was probably the stand-out of the lot, but the shrimp wasn’t too bad. The corn was pretty marginal. Paulette’s brother-in-law had also brought a variety of his own favorites, including canned salmon, rice, and PB&J sandwiches. Between us, we had three stoves (including my brand-new MSR Rapidfire) and the preparations didn’t take long. With Paulette’s father not eating, we had quite a bit of food left over, and shared it with the two climbers in the next tent site. They were both young, and traveling light, without benefit of tent or cooking gear. They seemed glad to have something warm.
Once the dinner dishes were cleaned up, Paulette’s father hit the sack. The rest of us started a game of Scrabble atop a convenient boulder. Though not yet 8:00, it was cooling off quite rapidly, and I started shivering, even with my windshell over my polarplus. Unable to finish the game (despite a commanding lead) I too turned in, forsaking the promise of the Boulderfield by moonlight for the warmth of my sleeping bag.
When my travel alarm went off the next morning at 5:00, I was sure I hadn’t slept more than half an hour. The next time I pack for an overnighter, I’ll be sure to pack a pillow.
Crawling out of the tent, I found a colorful sunrise well underway to the east, and a nearly-full moon descending toward the Keyhole to the west. At about 6:30, after a few pictures and a hasty breakfast, Paulette and her brother-in-law and I headed for the Keyhole. Her father had decided he didn’t feel up to the rest of the climb, and had started back down.
Not
a half-hour into the boulder-hopping it became apparent that Paulette’s
brother-in-law had decided to turn back. By 7:15 or so, Paulette and I had
scrambled up the last steep stretch into the Keyhole, where we visited the
Agnes Vaille shelter cabin (visible at the left edge of the photo), took
a brief rest and changed film before starting the circuitous route to the
summit. Early morning shadows fell before us into Glacier Gorge, and a cold
wind whistled through the rocks. We were thankful for clear skies.
Once through the Keyhole, our route was marked, as promised in the guidebooks, by red and yellow paint spots (or “fried eggs”) on the rocks. Maintaining elevation on broad ledges and medium to large talus, we followed this route from the Keyhole, on the north side of the peak, all the way around the western flanks of the mountain to the Trough — a steep, rock-filled couloir on the peak’s southwest side. Six-hundred feet up the Trough, very near the top, was one of the candidates for crux of the climb: two very large, perpendicular slabs leaning into one another, with marginal holds. With some planning and a little adrenaline, we scrambled to the top.
Now our route again maintained elevation, bringing us from the southwest side of the peak to a point directly south of the summit, via the Narrows. These ledges, while not terribly narrow in most places, do allow one to peer several hundred feet straight down, over abrupt edges. Thankfully, there are ample, solid handholds most of the way. There are a few tricky spots, however, where ascending and descending climbers queue up, waiting their turn at these one-at-a-time sections.
The
Narrows bring one directly to the base of the Homestretch, a steep two- or
three-hundred foot couloir which leads straight to the summit (see photo).
Unlike the rocky Trough, however, the Homestretch is a smooth slab, up which
three cracks run. The left (west) crack was wet and had some ice, so we used
the other two in combination. At about 10:10, we climbed out of the Homestretch
and onto the peak’s large, flat summit, elated.
There were twenty or thirty people on top, including a group of four young women who had just climbed up via the old “Cable route.” This route, which requires a few pitches of roped climbing, was a distant second behind the non-technical Keyhole route in popularity.
We started down at about 10:45, after the obligatory pictures, snack, and signing of the summit register. There were spots in the Homestretch and the top of the Trough which I was not looking forward to down-climbing. We made hardly better time descending than we had climbing up. Paulette seemed to have something of a knack for the downhill stuff, though, and she had to wait for me from time to time.
Slowly and with due caution, we descended the Homestretch, crossed the Narrows, descended the Trough, and negotiated the ledges back to the Keyhole. By 2:00 we were back in the Boulderfield, packing up the tent and the rest of our gear for the six miles back to the trailhead. A half-hour later, we were on the trail, heading for Granite Pass once again.
The trip back, with our heavy packs and already-tired feet was six miles of drudgery, most of which I have no desire to recall. At about 6:15, we staggered back into the ranger station parking lot, and struggled out of our packs. Walking without them, we felt as if we might suddenly slip the bonds of gravity, and go floating upwards.
After signing-out at the trailhead register, we headed for home, exhilarated and exhausted. Paulette had summited her first fourteener, and I, my seventh — and the most challenging by far.
