I left town about 4:00 Wednesday afternoon, and drove to Poncha Springs, arriving around 7:00. After previewing the first few miles of my approach route along the North Fork of the South Arkansas, I paid for my room at the Rocky Mountain Lodge, and headed for Salida and dinner. Unfortunately, the spaghetti sauce at Pizza Hut has gone downhill.
I was up at my customary 4:00, and westbound on U.S. 50 by 5:00. At Maysville, six or seven miles west of Poncha Springs, I turned onto the forest access road. The first few miles were in pretty good shape. Past the Angel of Shavano campground, however, the road worsened. While it never degenerated to the likes of a Baldwin Gulch (see Mount Antero), there were some very rough spots, where most passenger cars would want to be driven very carefully.
About eight miles up the North Fork, a sign indicated the Jennings Creek crossing, and the trailhead to Tabeguache and Shavano. I parked my truck one-quarter mile further up the road, as suggested in the CMC Condensed Guide. By about 5:50, I had walked back down to Jennings Creek, and concluded that the creek and the trail must be one and the same. In the dim light, I could find no path to start up which wasn’t running with water. Not being fond of wet feet, I dug my headlamp out of my pack, and launched through the trees a few yards east of the creek. In short order I intersected an obvious trail, and started up it.
The first half-hour or so was spent following this pleasant trail through the trees, climbing steadily, never far from the creek. Then the trail turned toward the east, and began a steep ascent of the ridge separating the McCoy Creek and Jennings Creek drainages. At this turn, a second, very faint path continued up the drainage, indicating that a certain number of climbers are heeding Borneman’s and Lampert’s guide.
Rather than climbing gently to the head of Jennings Creek, then having to seek a steep route onto — and up — Tabeguache’s west ridge, I chose to get started on the steep stuff then and there, with the benefit of a trail. I followed the trail up the southwestern end of the ridge, which was actually the south ridge of a 13,908-foot sub-peak located on Tabeguache’s west ridge, about six-tenths of a mile west of the peak.
The trail climbed steeply through an old burn area, to the ridge crest at 13,200 feet. This route afforded fine views of the Arkansas Valley, the Monarch Pass area and 13,657-foot Taylor Mountain, just a few miles to the south across the North Fork. I rock-hopped northward along the ridge, skirting obstacles on the east side where necessary. After maybe three-quarters of a mile, the ridge steepened to join Tabeguache’s west ridge. Rather than climbing the sub-peak, the trail contoured up and to the east, across the southeastern flanks of the sub-peak, to gain the west ridge at the 13,850-foot saddle between Tabeguache and its sub-peak. As with most trails on rocky terrain well above timberline, this one was difficult to follow in many spots. A few cairns confirmed that I was still on the popular route. At the saddle, I was rewarded with a great view to the north, into the heart of the Sawatch. Only a few miles away lay the south ridge of Mount Antero, which I had climbed the previous week.
Now on the main peak’s west ridge, I followed the trail
eastward. There are some ups-and-downs just west of the summit, where the
ridge becomes fairly narrow, and presents a steep face to the north. The
trail skirted these difficulties by clinging to the gentler south side of
the ridge crest.
At about 11:00, after five hours of climbing, I stood alone on Tabeguache’s summit. It was warm, with a light breeze. I signed the CMC register, took some photos — including my first self-portrait atop a fourteener — and noted with uneasiness that substantial vertical development of clouds was occurring in nearly every direction. A brooding, dark cloud was hanging over Shavano, my second target for the day. I waited, watched and snacked on trail mix until 11:25, when I decided to play it safe, and abandon Shavano for another day. I had not seen another person on the mountains, and the weather was marginal for the hour-and-a-half trip to Shavano and back. I started down.
Fifteen or twenty minutes off the top, I met the two other climbers I would see all day, a middle-aged couple working their way up the ridge. We quickly discussed the weather and the various evils which have befallen climbers who have descended into McCoy Gulch. We then parted company after wishing each other a safe journey.
Even having read about nasty McCoy Gulch, I managed to start to descend into it without recognizing I was doing so. When I realized that I was descending the wrong ridge, and one which only divided the upper reaches of the McCoy Creek drainage, I contoured around the ridge to the northwest. Twenty minutes of cautious work on the rock pile brought me back to the saddle on the west ridge, and my descent route.
Now that I had forsaken Shavano, the cloud development which had stopped me seemed to have come to a virtual halt. Surely there is some corollary to Murphy’s Law which explains this phenomenon. Still, the necessity of remaining high on the ridge most of the way back to the trailhead made me believe I had made a prudent call. My experience with an electrical storm on Mount Cameron’s southern slopes didn’t make me anxious for a repeat performance.
The descent was routine, with a number of minor variations from the ascent where the trail became impossible to follow. By 3:45, I was back at the trailhead, footsore and weary, but pleased to have completed my second solo ascent in the Sawatch. I walked the quarter-mile to my truck rather briskly, I thought, considering my condition. After so much steep descending, the gentle climb was a welcome change.
Even if Mount Shavano had evaded me, Tabeguache had been a pleasant climb. Nine down, forty-five to go.
