We drove up to Fairplay Wednesday afternoon, paid for our room at the Western Inn, and decided to preview the next morning’s drive over 11 miles of dirt road. We drove about one mile past the old Leavick site on the Fourmile Creek Forest Service Access Road before the road became too rough. After choosing our parking spot for the morning, we returned to Fairplay, and had dinner at the historic Fairplay Hotel.
We crawled out of bed at 4:30 the next morning, packed up, and headed out. By 6:15, we were walking up the remainder of the road, toward the Dauntless mine area. The sun hadn’t yet found its way into the high valley, and our thermometer registered 40 degrees. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
The area between Leavick and the Sherman-Sheridan saddle offers a number of alternative routes, most calling for four-wheel drive. Most appeared to be holdovers from the ubiquitous mining activity in the area. About a quarter of a mile above the Dauntless, we chose the southernmost route to the saddle, avoiding the rocky road which swung to the north to skirt the Hilltop mine, then turn west. Our route followed the remainder of the “main” road, then became a trail and began to climb more steeply.
Soon we were working our way across a 50-degree snowfield, carefully kicking steps into the crusty late-Spring snow. And I was kicking myself for leaving my ice axe at home — surely overkill on Colorado’s “easiest” fourteener in July. Once across, a short walk brought us to the last leg of our climb into the Sherman-Sheridan saddle: another steep snowfield. Again, we proceeded with caution, climbing diagonally across the snow and onto the narrow saddle. As we did so, the view changed from one of snow and sky to one of mountains and lakes. Before us lay Leadville, and beyond, the Sawatch Range.
After a brief pause, we started talus-hopping our way up Sherman’s southwest ridge. As in the valley below, there were always several routes to choose from, and at one point, we found that we had contoured off the ridge to the west. We regained the ridge, but not without a little exhilarating scrambling.
At about 10:15, we stood at the top of Sherman’s large, somewhat snowy summit, and signed the register. During the next 45 minutes, several parties joined us on the summit, including one that was well-equipped with pop-bottle rockets. From the summit we identified Lincoln, Democrat and Bross to the south, and beyond them, Grays and Torreys. We also found likely candidates for Mount of the Holy Cross, Elbert, Massive and maybe La Plata.
At about 11:00, well-rested and well-fed, we started down. Whatever might happen on the way down, we would not be worrying about the weather: it was as close to perfect as one could ask.
The descent to the saddle was uneventful. Donna took a few moments to explore alternatives to the saddle snowfield, and found none that would spare a steep climb around snow. We started down, and found that the ice-crusted snow of the morning’s ascent had become wet and slushy. At the bottom of the snowfield, we chose not to retrace the route we had climbed earlier; rather, we took advantage of the network of jeep roads which would save us having to cross the lower snowfield.
By 2:00, we were back at the truck, drinking apple juice, swatting mosquitoes and luxuriating in our bootlessness. Our fifth fourteener was in the bag.
