MT. OURAY
13,971 ft.
June 21, 2001
By Tim Briese
Mt. Ouray beckoned to me repeatedly over the years to come and climb it. Its solitary bulk first caught my attention from the summit of Pikes Peak twenty years before, and I often admired this mighty mountain jutting into the sky southwest of Salida many times since then. My preoccupation with climbing the 14ers delayed this undertaking for a while but the time to climb it finally arrived.
I left home in the early morning light at 5:30 a.m., on the longest day of the year, and headed into the mountains. The weather appeared rather marginal for a climb, with low clouds obscuring the landscape along the way. When I neared Poncha Springs, however, the summit of Ouray was visible to the southwest, and I studied the fields of snow that lay on its eastern slopes. I hoped to climb the scenic east ridge route past the Devil’s Armchair and I determined that this route looked quite feasible today. The traditional route from Marshall Pass is shorter and easier, but expediency was not my goal today.
With Mt. Ouray in view ahead of me, I drove up the excellent Marshall Pass Road a few miles to the Grays Creek Trailhead and parked in a pull-off along the side of the road. There were two other trucks parked nearby. I hit the trail at 8:20 with my lab Allie and struck off on a trail into the woods to the right of the creek, not realizing that I should have taken a different trail that was initially more obscure, right along the creek. Neither trail was marked. The trail I took headed up through some beautiful stands of aspen but soon faded out, so I bushwhacked back down toward the creek and picked up the other trail. I felt a little out of shape as I huffed up the trail, but this was just what I needed to get in condition for the summer climbing season. I lost the trail a couple of times along the way because of confusing multiple paths. At a fork in the creek I had to carefully study my topo map and GPS readings to determine which way to go. About a mile up the trail I passed a large campsite and counted a half dozen tents scattered about in the woods. Their occupants were nowhere to be seen, though.
The trail along Grays Creek became more defined as I climbed higher and I trudged upward on increasingly steeper terrain. The route went up a rocky gorge where Grays Creek apparently flows underground for some distance.
I kept a constant eye on the sky. The air was hazy from moisture that would likely boil into rainy clouds later. Clouds were already puffing up rapidly and stormy weather seemed inevitable. By ten-o-clock, as I neared timberline, a successful climb to the summit appeared questionable, and I began to wish I had started earlier to beat the weather.
The terrain flattened out near timberline and I began to hike through a large area of bristlecone pines, with many skeleton trees standing amidst the live ones. I was entering Ouray’s vast east cirque, called the Devil’s Armchair, with the summit towering 2000 feet above to the west.
I picked my way up grassy slopes to get on the east ridge above, trying to avoid loose rocky slopes where I could. There was no trail here, but I didn’t mind because route-finding is much easier above timberline where the landscape is not obscured by trees. I seemed to gain my second wind as I ground my way up 800 feet of gain to the crest of the ridge above. Remarkably, the clouds were dissipating a little. They appeared a bit less threatening but still bore watching closely. I saw a couple of climbers high above on the summit milling around, perhaps members of the party whose camp I had passed.
With the weather holding I headed up a nice trail I found that switchbacked up the ridge toward the summit. I felt myself becoming more energetic as I neared my goal. I rounded a bend and encountered a hiking party with about fifteen people coming down. There were three young leaders who appeared to be in their twenties accompanying a group of teenagers. One of the guides told me they were a group with Wilderness Adventure Outfitters out of Salida. Several in the group stopped to greet and pet Allie, who responded by vigorously wagging her tail.
I hiked past a couple of massive banks of snow as I approached the top and paused nearby to admire contrasting fields of beautiful tiny wildflowers that glistened in an array of colors. At 12:10 I stepped atop the rounded summit. While I sat and rested I admired the spectacular views all around. The views were finer than I could recall on many of the nearby Sawatch 14ers, due to Ouray’s relative isolation and its location on the far southern end of the range. To the east lay the Sangre de Cristos, off to the north the Sawatch stretched away, and far off to the southwest in the haze I could see the La Garitas, the San Juans, and Uncompahgre Peak. There were excellent views, too, of the Arkansas River drainage far below to the northeast and the Gunnison river drainage to the west. It was a pleasantly cool 46 degrees as I lounged about in the broken sunshine. There was no register to record my visit, but other signs of humanity abounded. There were three rock wind shelters, some old wire, and a few old bricks whose purpose was unknown to me. A hundred years ago people used to climb up here from a train stop on Marshall Pass to enjoy the views that I was enjoying today. The windswept summit has accumulated several relics to remind us that many feet have seen this place before.
When I left the top at 12:50 I could hardly tear myself away from the commanding panorama that the summit afforded. I felt an eerie feeling of overwhelming awe, looking around at the grandeur of creation in all directions. It was a spiritual and emotional high for me. A prayer of gratitude ran spontaneously through my mind.
I lightheartedly headed down the easy trail and noticed that most of the clouds above had given way to a deep blue sky. This was a rare summer day when the weather actually improved as the day wore on. Convective clouds that burst upward through the lower atmosphere as would-be thunderstorms had their tops diffused and softened as they reached drier, more stable levels above. The sky was generally clear to the west, due to a drier air mass that was moving into the state from the southwestern deserts.
I quickly hiked back down the ridge, feeling glad to have my trekking poles for balance and to save my knees. Occasionally I stopped to throw a stick for Allie to retrieve. My spirit was singing, for this wilderness adventure had brought my mind, body, and soul back into harmony.
I turned back to admire the grand sight of the summit high above in the golden afternoon sunshine as I came down off the ridge back into the valley below. The descent went smoothly and I soon re-entered the woods. I passed the camp of the hiking party I met earlier and greeted several members of the group who were lounging about resting after their adventure. The trail somehow seemed much easier to find on the way down. At 3:45 I returned to the trailhead, and after gazing back up at mighty Ouray one last time, I got in my truck and headed for home.
