HURON PEAK
14,003 ft.
October 8, 1996
By Tim Briese
I left home in the dark at 5:30 a.m., with a crescent moon glowing in the eastern sky. I was going to climb alone today, the first time I had done so on a 14er this year. Although I enjoy the companionship of climbing partners, I looked forward to this solitary outing, for I sometimes like to be alone with my thoughts while out in Nature.
I saw a large herd of elk grazing in a meadow in the twilight near Wilkerson Pass, and later the sun was just beginning to shine on the highest summits in the Sawatch Range as I drove down into the Arkansas River Valley. The morning was dawning sunny and clear, and it promised to be a glorious day. Many of my favorite hikes have been in the fall on days such as this, in September or October, when the trails have few people and Nature’s beauty is at its finest.
I reached the trailhead just beyond the old mining ghost town of Winfield a little before 8:30 and began hiking with my lab Sadie up the four wheel drive road that goes south up the Clear Creek Valley. Puddles on the road were covered with ice, and frost coated the landscape as I hiked briskly along in the chilly air in the shade of the tall mountains above to the east. The road was not as rough as I expected, and I could have quite easily four-wheeled about two miles further to the point where the road ends at the boundary of the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness Area, but I didn’t mind the extra hiking at all.
The valley held no other trace of humanity on this beautiful morning, for I did not see any other vehicles or hikers anywhere. Beyond the end of the old road the trail ascended into an area of heavy timber above the valley floor. It was dark and somber in the dense woods, and for a few moments it was a bit frightening to realize that I was quite alone there. One never quite outgrows the influence of childhood fables about beasts and wolves in the woods. I was relieved when the woods thinned out after a short distance and were filled with a more cheery light. The trail soon turned to the east and ascended sharply uphill. (This was before the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative built the current splendid trail that gradually switchbacks up this steep slope.) This steep grind was an excellent opportunity to see what kind of shape I was in. I could gauge the progress of my climb by looking across the valley at Granite Mountain (12,848'). I climbed vigorously, and reached a beautiful grassy basin at 12,300 feet in about 45 minutes. I did not want to turn this climb into a fitness test, but I calculated that I was climbing at a rate of nearly 2000 vertical feet per hour, which is about the fastest climbing rate I’m physically capable of at that elevation.
One of my favorite parts of a climb is when I reach timberline, and expansive views open up around me, as they did when I reached this enchanting basin. From here I could see Huron’s pointed summit and northwest slope that I would soon ascend. The slope was mostly covered with snow above about 13,000 feet. I picked my way around some ponds in the basin, then climbed steeply and soon found myself on the snow. I had never climbed on a snow slope of any significance before and I welcomed this chance to give it a try, to gain experience for future climbs. The snow was about a foot and a half deep, at the most, and turned out to be a lot of fun to climb up through, although the footing was a little slippery in a couple of spots. Some trails had been broken up through the snow by other climbers on previous days, but I found it adventurous to blaze my own.
At about 11:15 I stepped atop the grand summit. There were spectacular views all around, with incredible visibility in the crisp, clear autumn air. There was a slight breeze blowing from the northwest under a deep blue, cloudless sky. I could see the rugged Elk Range, the distant snow-covered San Juans, Taylor Reservoir, and many nearby summits in the Sawatch Range. Especially impressive were the rugged summits of the Three Apostles about two miles to the south. The summit log showed that I was the only climber to reach the top so far today, and there had been only one here the day before.
I sat and contemplated the grand beauty around me for quite some time. It was an exhilarating and awesome feeling sitting on that mountaintop surrounded by the magnificence of Nature, alone with my Creator. My whole life seemed to pass briefly before me, from beginning to end, and I was filled with a deep gratitude for life and all that it encompasses. As grand and magnificent as all this was around me, I realized that this was just the tip of an iceberg, that it was a tiny fraction of all the grandeur that exists in the universe and beyond. Furthermore, in spite of my total solitude here, I felt as close to loved ones and the rest of humanity as ever, with a warm bond of kinship uniting me with them.
After sifting through these meditations for a while I reluctantly left this beautiful place and began my descent. I found it surprisingly easy and a lot of fun going back down through the snow, except for a couple of steep, slippery places. I was excited about the prospect of extending my climbing season into the snowy winter.
When I got back down into the grassy basin I was entranced by the almost mystical beauty of the landscape around me created by the warm, golden sunshine. On such perfect autumn days the beauty of Nature leaps out at the mind and soul. Several times I stopped in my tracks to admire the lofty Three Apostles off to the south. I was very grateful for the chance to be in this special place at this moment in time.
It took about a half hour to descend the steep slope from the basin back down into the valley. The dense woods were not frightening anymore, for the bright sunshine now penetrated the canopy of the trees above. I met a solitary backpacker who was headed up the valley to the vicinity of the Three Apostles, the first hiker I had seen all day. I was soon back on the old road hiking pleasantly along in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and returned to my truck about 2 p.m.
This was an unforgettable climb of a beautiful mountain, for it was a day when I briefly touched the essence of truth and beauty.
--"We go to the mountains, initially, to lose ourselves; and we go to the mountains, next, to find ourselves." --author unknown
