LACKAWANNA PEAK
13,823 ft.
November 19, 2003
By Tim Briese
The season was late, and considerable snow had already blanketed the high country, but I wanted to climb one more new Centennial 13er if I could. I left home at 5 a.m. and headed into the mountains with my two labs. The sun rose two hours later and revealed a generous mantle of white coating the Sawatch Range. I was surprised to find Highway 82 beyond Twin Lakes snowpacked and icy in many places, and I began to wonder if excessive snow might prevent my climb.
The trailhead for Lackawanna’s standard northwest ridge route was inaccessible because the highway was plowed only to a point a few miles short of it, so I planned to attempt instead the steep south slopes route from the Upper Lake Creek Trailhead. Roach says the pull-off along the highway is 15.6 miles from the Hwy. 24/Hwy. 82 junction, but my odometer found it to be only 15.3. After driving up the road a little further to check for another pull-off, and finding none, I four-wheeled into the snow at the unplowed pull-off and parked at 10,330 feet.
It was a fine November day, clear and nearly calm, a rare treat in the midst of the stormy and windy weather pattern we had seen in recent weeks. At 8:15 I walked across the highway and struck off uphill into the woods on the other side, heading to the northeast in the general direction of a rocky outcropping on a ridge high above that I could glimpse from time to time. I plodded slowly upward through the soft snow, which was about a foot deep. This portion of the ascent was very taxing, as I bushwhacked steeply uphill through the rugged timber, facing the obstacles of downed trees, rock outcroppings and ledges, and the soft, slippery snow. It would have been much easier a month earlier before the snows came, I thought, although it would have still been quite a grueling grind even then. On the other hand, this climb would be almost impossible, at least for me, later in the winter when the woods were filled with several feet of soft, fluffy snow. My trekking poles were priceless on this steep grind, and on some aspen-covered slopes that were particularly steep I resorted to grasping young saplings to pull myself upward.
It was quite a relief to eventually reach timberline at 11,800 feet, after nearly two hours of brutal climbing and 1500 feet of elevation gain. From here I could see the ridge above that would take me nearly all the way to the summit. The going looked easier because the windward side of the ridge was somewhat scoured free of snow. After a short break I continued the steep climb, stepping from rock to rock that protruded above the snow, in a quest for solid footing. There were a couple of gnarly rock outcroppings along the ridge that I bypassed on the left. I finally came to a minor gentle stretch, the first I'd seen since I left the highway far below, but the steep climbing quickly resumed. A breeze now blew crisply out of the west, but at no more than 20 miles per hour of so, which was not bad for this time of year.
This route to Lackawanna is brutally steep, gaining some 3500 feet of elevation in just over a mile and a half. It is one of the most relentlessly steep routes I have climbed. I doggedly continued upward and eventually topped out on the summit ridge high above. From here it was an easy 200 yard scamper along the ridge north toward the summit. Just before reaching the summit I wallowed through a drifted bank of snow on the lee side of the summit block, and finally stepped on top at noon.
The views from the summit were magnificent on this glorious late autumn day. The surrounding summits looked especially regal dressed in their mantle of white. Grizzly Peak presented a grand appearance a few miles to the southwest, and the rugged Elks filled the mountainous western skyline. To the southeast was La Plata, and to the northeast lay Casco and Elbert. Visibility was unlimited on this exceptionally clear day, and I could easily see all the way to the San Juans, and noted Uncompahgre and the Rio Grande Pyramid jutting into the sky far away with my binoculars. The wind had died down and it was quite pleasant in the warm sunshine, even though the temperature was only 22 degrees.
After a fine half hour on the summit I left and began my descent at 12:35. I rapidly worked my way back down the ridge, carefully picking my way down across the rocks and snow to avoid a slip and fall. As I came down the ridge a large black raven swooped down low and hovered in the breeze about 15 feet above my dogs, apparently sizing them up as possible prey. When they growled and jumped up toward it, though, it sailed away to look for other opportunities.
The most difficult part of the descent was the bushwhack down the rugged wooded slope through the slippery snow, but it was far easier than the ascent had been. The sun slipped behind the ridge across the valley to the southwest as I descended toward the bottom of the deep valley. The scene struck me as being rather wintry when I walked through the snow in the chilly shadows in the valley and returned to my truck at 2:35. I estimated that I hiked about three and a half miles and climbed 3500 feet of elevation gain on this climb, but these numbers hardly reflect the scope of the undertaking. I felt fortunate to have such a splendid day for a climb at this late season. No sooner had I reached the trailhead and drove away that I noticed clouds rapidly moving in from the west, and plumes of snow beginning to blow up near the high summits as winds increased, in advance of the next storm system on the way.
