GREENHORN MOUNTAIN
12,347 ft.
May 29, 1999
By Tim Briese
I felt overdue for an outing into the mountains but was not eager to hike in the snow that still lay in much of the high country. The Wet Mountains southwest of Pueblo are a relatively low elevation range that had already lost much of their mantle of white, however, so I decided to climb to the highest summit in that range, Greenhorn Mountain. At 12,347 feet, its summit is just high enough to rise above timberline and it affords fine views of the south central part of Colorado.
I left home at 5:45 on a clear morning in late May and drove to the little town of Rye, nestled at the eastern base of the Wet Mountains. I drove south of town on a forest road to the trailhead for the Bartlett Trail, which I planned to follow to the heights above. At a quarter till eight I struck off up the trail with my lab Allie. It had rained the night before, leaving a vibrant aroma of dampness in the woods, while puddles along the trail glistened in the morning sunlight. The trailhead lies at a relatively low elevation of only 7700 feet, and the trail initially climbed through intermittent forests of Gambel oak and pinyon pine, typical of low elevation mountain forests in this part of the state. I enjoyed panoramic views of the plains below to the east as the trail climbed southwest up to a divide over the first two miles. On the other side of the divide the North Apache Creek drainage sloped away to the south. I sat down for a break on a flat grassy spot and gazed at the Spanish Peaks about thirty miles to the south.
The trail generally contoured across a long south-facing slope over the next couple of miles, through forests of aspen and pine, crossing two small creeks along the way. The route then ascended sharply up through dense timber toward a ridge above. Banks of snow began to appear on shady north-facing slopes. The hike was complicated by numerous downed trees that lay across the trail, victims of a vicious windstorm a few months before. Clouds rapidly built up in the sky and promised the threat of rain later.
When I neared timberline the amount of snow on the ground markedly increased and I presently lost sight of the trail. I began to bushwhack up a slope to the northwest and came to an area covered by a multitude of downed dead trees lying scattered on the ground like giant matchsticks. I tediously worked my way across this vast jumble. When I hiked up over a ridge I was thrilled to see the summit of Greenhorn about a half mile away to the north. I enthusiastically bushwhacked toward it, working my way past bogs and banks of snow and scrambling over more downed logs.
I reached the base of the summit cone and proceeded to climb about 400 feet up a talus slope to the top. It was a grand feeling to stand atop a high summit once again and gaze about at the surrounding grandeur. I could see the Spanish Peaks off to the south and the Blanca group and the Crestones around to the west, still coated in a considerable mantle of white. The summit register showed that I was only the second climber to reach the top this year. About 75 people had come up the year before, mostly during the summer months.
A large thunderstorm passed by to the north and appeared to be bearing down on the Pueblo Reservoir, lying far below to the northeast. Other dark clouds were building to the south and west so I decided not to tarry long and soon began my descent. As I hiked back down the upper slopes my eyes were repeatedly drawn to the Crestones across the valley to the west, and I fondly recalled my climbs to their rugged and wild summits during previous years.
It was a welcome relief to get back down on the easy grades of the trail, even though the numerous downed trees lying across it were tiring to crawl over. I rolled an ankle when I stepped on a rock and later slipped and fell at one of the creek crossings, but fortunately neither incident did serious harm. I did not mind the hardships I encountered, for it simply felt great to be out in the grandeur of the wilderness once again!
Thunder rumbled in the distance as I hiked back over the divide and crackles of lightning became closer and closer as I rapidly hustled down the trail. When I was about 200 yards from the trailhead I turned and saw a heavy sheet of rain approaching just behind me so I literally ran the rest of the way as sprinkles began to fall. I sprinted up to my car, turned the key in the lock and swung open the door, and Allie and I leaped inside just a second or two before an incredible torrent of rain was unleashed from the sky.
As I drove down the road it seemed that every muscle in my body was sore from the waist down, because I was a little out of shape and the grueling hike had required fifteen miles of roundtrip hiking and 4800 feet of elevation gain. This fine alpine adventure was worth every bit of it though!
