LITTLE BEAR PEAK
14,037 ft.
August 26, 1999
By Tim Briese
Little Bear Peak is the 14er that I always feared the most. I had heard it described by some as the most difficult, or sometimes the most dangerous, of them all. It is a mountain with a benign name that belies its ferocity.
I left home at noon and headed south to meet my friend Brian at Como Lake. I four-wheeled up the rough Como Lake road as far as I dared and pulled off to go the rest of the way on foot. This old road, if one can call it that, becomes unbelievably rugged in the miles beyond where I parked, and is reputed to be the most challenging four wheel drive route in Colorado. After parking at about 9500 feet elevation I shouldered my backpack at 4 p.m. and briskly hiked up to the lake in the afternoon heat. While walking up this road it is interesting to observe the exceedingly rough terrain that four wheel drive enthusiasts abuse their vehicles on.
I arrived at the lake about 5:30 and found Brian along the trail just beyond the lake. It was good to see him again. Little Bear was not a mountain that either of us cared to climb alone. We found a nice campsite on the grass nearby, about 50 feet from the point where the trail to Little Bear branches off from the main trail up the valley toward Blanca Peak.
It was a pristine spot to camp, right at timberline, with rocks and a few scattered trees nearby, and Little Bear towering grandly above us to the east. I looked about for firewood, finding it surprisingly difficult to find, and got a little campfire going. At dusk I strolled over to the stream nearby to filter water and to scout the beginning of the trail we would be following in the morning. We spoke briefly with a couple camping nearby who were also going to make an attempt on Little Bear the next day. As darkness ensued Brian and I sat by the fire and talked about our adventure to Chicago Basin a few weeks before, and about the big challenge that lay before us in the morning. It was a clear, beautiful evening, with the promise of fair weather the next day, just what we needed for our attempt of Little Bear.
Brian and I shared the same trepidation about Little Bear, having heard about its exceedingly steep gully, barely climbable without a rope when it is dry, and about the danger of rockfall on the mountain. We knew it was crucial for our safety that no climbers be above us knocking rocks loose as we ascended the gully, and we resolved to get a very early start to accomplish that aim. We had deliberately chosen a weekday on which to do the climb, to reduce the number of other climbers we might otherwise have to deal with on a weekend. Safety was our primary focus. I have always believed, when climbing any mountain, that my primary objective is to return home safely.
I slept restlessly in my tent that night, with nightmares from time to time resulting from dread about the tough climb that lay before us in the morning. During one of my wakeful moments during the night I resolved to coolly make safe decisions on the climb. I found out in the morning that Brian had dealt with altitude sickness through the night, having come to this spot at 12,000 feet elevation from 2,000 feet in the Midwest the night before. Fortunately he was able to overcome it with Rolaids and a lot of water, and felt pretty good by morning.
We rose and left camp in the dark at 5:30 a.m. We were virtually certain that no one was ahead of us, for other climbers would have had to pass right by our camp. We used our flashlights to ascend the steep couloir directly above camp to the south. The footing was unpleasantly loose but we soon reached the notch in the ridge 700 feet above and paused for a little rest. Then we followed the fun ridge crest eastward toward Little Bear to a point at 13,000 feet, after which we traversed along a slope around to the base of the infamous gully at 13,300 feet, where we rested once again. Here we donned our climbing helmets around 7 a.m. and prepared ourselves for one of the most difficult stretches of climbing on any standard 14er route.
We began to climb up the steep, smooth rock in the gully on class three terrain which soon steepened to a class four pitch. We stayed mostly in the center of the gully, in spite of a little trickle of water flowing down it, following the suggestion of a climber Brian had talked to before. We found pretty good holds on the rock in the gully’s center, just good enough to scamper right up the 300 foot long gully. I was a little surprised at how quickly and smoothly it went. The gully was indeed very steep and barely climbable, but perfectly doable. It would have been very difficult had the rock been wet, and impossible had it been icy, without technical expertise and gear.
Above the gully the steepness eased a little and we found ourselves amidst a vast expanse of loose rocks lying about on steep slopes and ledges. We inadvertently knocked a volleyball sized rock loose, and it wildly rocketed down the gully, haunting us with the chilling reminder of how dangerous that gully could be with anyone above. Any rock that comes loose on that field of rubble above is steered by gravity right into the gully as if into a funnel. It is potentially the most dangerous place I’ve seen on any 14er. If a climber were unfortunate enough to be in the gully when a rock came whizzing by, chances are that it would miss him, but it would be like standing in an area a gun is being fired toward.
At about 13,800 feet I noticed a small, dark haired animal that looked like a ferret sitting on a nearby rock watching us. I marveled at the furry fellow living up there in that wild and forlorn place. We held to the right as we ascended the slope above the gully because the rock seemed more solid there, with fewer loose pieces to knock loose. Soon we gained the top of the high ridge above and discovered that we were about 75 yards south of Little Bear’s summit. From this point we found it necessary to downclimb a bit and traverse across toward the top. Just after 8 a.m. we stepped atop the prized summit.
We sat on the top resting for a while, gazing about at the rugged grandeur surrounding us, hardly believing that we were on top of this long dreaded summit. It seemed like a dream. We marveled at the fearsome class five ridge stretching eastward across to the summit of mighty Blanca Peak. That is a ridge I have no interest in ever doing. It was clear and calm on this beautiful morning, a great blessing indeed. I admired the stark shadow of Little Bear laid out on the level floor of the San Luis Valley to the west in the early morning light. I could not remember ever seeing a mountain’s shadow from this perspective before.
At about 8:30 we started down, realizing that the challenge was only partly over, with a safe descent still remaining. We very carefully descended back down the upper slopes that were littered with loose rock, almost paranoid about knocking any piece loose, lest we send a deadly missile flying down toward climbers that might be below. With nerves on edge, we crept along, ready to try to grab anything that started to roll. As we reached the lower sections of loose rock, sure enough we saw two climbers coming up the gully. They were the couple camped near us the night before, and they were using a rope working their way up the north side of the gully. We hollered down and told them we would wait while they scrambled up and off to the side toward safety, and then we asked them to wait while we descended the gully. This is a place where cooperation among parties is mandatory. We quickly scooted down the steep, smooth rock using the nice holds in the center of the gully, with one particularly long reach at the steepest place. Once clear of danger after scrambling out of the lower end of the “bowling alley”, we yelled up to the party above to proceed. I breathed a sigh of relief, and the realization hit that we had just climbed Little Bear. We lightheartedly hiked back down the trail and scampered along the crest of the fun, airy ridge back to the top of the entry couloir above camp. We quickly descended the couloir and arrived back at camp just after 10:30. Surprisingly, the climb had only taken about five hours.
After breaking camp we hiked back down the Como Lake road in the heat of midday. I was a little embarrassed when I carelessly slipped on a rock on the road and fell down, after having negotiated the difficult terrain on Little Bear that morning. We reached my truck at 1 p.m., and I gave Brian a ride a mile and a half further down the road to his car. We exchanged goodbyes and I left for home.
I made it home in time to attend my daughter’s open house at school that evening, and as I sat listening to the teachers explain their goals and procedures my mind wandered back to the mountains. I could hardly believe that I had climbed Little Bear that morning. It seemed like a good dream that had come true.
How difficult is Little Bear? It is certainly a difficult 14er to climb, but there are a handful of others I would rate a bit higher in overall difficulty, including the Maroon Bells, Capitol Peak, and Crestone Peak. Little Bear requires perhaps the steepest rock climbing of any length on any 14er, but it is quite doable in good conditions. Wet rock could make it extremely difficult, though. Little Bear is potentially the most dangerous of any 14er, in my mind. Under the circumstances in which Brian and I climbed, however, I do not believe we were in much danger. We took every precaution to make the climb as safe as possible. We started early and made sure no one was above us, we climbed on a weekday to avoid crowds, we wore helmets, and we climbed in good weather. However, given the potential for things to go wrong on Little Bear, it is the 14er to which I am most reluctant to return.
