14,286 ft.

January 29, 1999

By Tim Briese

For several weeks I waited for a nice day to attempt a January 14er climb, when weather conditions were acceptable and my schedule allowed. I wanted to climb on a day that was sunny and without much wind, a combination that is rare at this time of year. I observed that there were only two or three such days during the entire month of January. Perhaps my criteria were rather selective, but I had no desire to face the conditions I encountered on Bross the month before when I climbed in a raging windstorm.

I left home in the dark at 6 a.m. and headed into the mountains with my lab Allie. When I drove over Wilkerson Pass I was greeted by a glorious view of the high peaks off to the west coated with a shimmering white mantle of snow under a clear blue sky. I drove to the Quartzsville Creek Trailhead northwest of Alma and parked in a pull-off at the side of the road. When I got out of my truck it was very cold, but more importantly, the air was perfectly calm, which was just what I was hoping for. It was shaping up as a perfect day for the climb.

I proceeded to hike up through the woods following a packed snowmobile track for a few hundred yards. When the track veered off into a valley to the south I put on my snowshoes and struck off through deep powdery snow uphill to the west. Presently I reached timberline and continued bushwhacking upward across the snowy slopes. At 12,000 feet I paused at a flat area to rest for a while. I felt somewhat ill today and was compelled to proceed at a gradual pace. There was no need to attempt any speed records on this outing, for I realized that just making it to the summit eventually was accomplishment enough.

I hiked to the northwest across Putnam Gulch and then headed up a steep slope of snow above. I selected this route in order to enjoy the pure fun of climbing up on the snowy slope. My ice ax was useful on the steepest part of the slope near its top. I wondered for a moment about the threat of an avalanche here but decided that the snow seemed adequately stable.

When I reached the top of the snow slope I climbed relentlessly upward on Lincoln’s broad eastern slopes, which were only partially covered with snow. When I paused for breaks I threw a stick for Allie to retrieve and she repeatedly ran up and down the slopes in hot pursuit. I climbed about 3000 feet of elevation gain on this outing, but she must have climbed well over 6000! The exertion of the climb was telling on me so I took off my outer shell to cool off a little. I pulled out my thermometer and was surprised that it registered only 16 degrees. The pleasant sunshine made it feel much warmer.

About a half mile from the summit the terrain became mostly free of snow because of wind scour so I removed my snowshoes. It felt good to move about more nimbly once again, in a more footloose manner, so to speak. On the final pitch to the summit I proceeded directly up another steep slope of snow and a few minutes later was standing on top.

I spent a grand and magnificent hour on the summit. It was clear and virtually calm, delectably rare conditions for a winter day. I was astonished that the temperature was only four degrees above zero, because it felt much warmer. As I sat on a rock I felt as if I were sitting by a fireplace, with my sunny side warm and toasty and my shaded side chilly.

The sky was perfectly clear to the west and north with unlimited visibility. I enjoyed the grandeur of the snow-capped Sawatch and Elk Ranges, as well as the Flat Tops and the Gore Range. I could see all the way to the distant Elkheads up near the Wyoming border. Far to the south a layer of low clouds clung to the horizon, veiling the southern Sangre de Cristos in their misty wrap. I dreamily reminisced about climbs I had done to some of the distant summits I could see. When I signed the summit log I noticed that the most recent entry was recorded two weeks before.

It was quite a memorable experience sitting on top of Lincoln on this beautiful winter day, gazing at the grandeur surrounding me, and gazing introspectively within as well. Such are my favorite days on mountaintops, when the wind is calm and the visibility is unlimited. It was perfectly quiet and peaceful, without the slightest sound, which created an enchantment that was almost other-worldly.

I was tempted to hike around the ridge to Mt. Bross but didn’t quite feel up to that challenge today. I preferred to simply stay and sit of top of Lincoln for a while longer enjoying the moment. I was reluctant to leave, realizing that this was a special treat to have these rare conditions.

Eventually I took leave of the summit and headed back down the slope to the east. It was easy going back down across the rocks and snow, and I modified my route slightly to stay on harder snow so that I did not find it necessary to use my snowshoes all the way back to the trailhead. Occasionally I glanced up at the shimmering slopes of Mt. Bross to the south and noted what a magnificent sight it was in the golden winter sunshine. Solid snow makes for an easy descent, and I found myself back down at the trailhead scarcely more than an hour after I left the summit.

As I drove home I thought about what a contrast this climb had been to my climb of Mt. Bross the month before. I was buffeted by vicious 70 mph winds then, as opposed to the gentle calm of today. The mere difference in the movement of air was like the difference between night and day.

Back to More Climbs page.