After scrolling through my Instagram account a couple of months ago, seeing photo after spectacular photo of the magnificence that is the state of Colorado, I decided I had to witness it with my own eyes. I booked a ticket in a hurry and 2 months later, I was sitting on a flight from Perth to Los Angeles (actually Perth-Sydney-Auckland-LA), gleefully anticipating what was to come. Not only was I going to be immersed in the beautiful scenery of Colorado, a bucket list destination for years, but I was going to meet an amazing girl that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Yes, it was a long flight.
After spending a couple of days in Los Angeles with a buddy from previous Cambodian escapades, I was back at LAX, bound for Colorado. On the flight to Denver, she couldn’t take her eyes off the window that overlooked the spectacular terrain we were flying over. She may actually have been drooling a bit, a combination of nature lust and delusion from lack of sleep. I met the beautiful girl mentioned above and we rented a car at the airport, crashing in Denver at night. We were ready to go west in the morning.
Sailing into Breckenridge in the morning, we were greeted over the first ridge by large logging farms high up in the rolling landscape. These were mixed among beautiful pines and large oaks. Top notch real estate in anyone’s book. Then it started snowing… Neither of us had ever driven in the snow before, so a bit of excitement washed over us, as new experiences often do.
The first ride on ‘Breck’ was up to the beautiful Hanging Lakes which only took a couple of hours back and was pretty crowded the whole way. The highlight for me was having a ‘shower’ under an icy waterfall at the top. Cold is a pretty decent euphemism, that shit was creepy.
The next day, I passed up an incredible whitewater rafting opportunity to scale one of Colorado’s infamous ’14ers’, mountains that reach over 14,000′ (4,240m for those of us using the correct way of measuring). Even though the weather was unsettled at best, it was what I came to Colorado to do, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I chose the east route at Quandry Peak as my goal due to its relatively easy trail and lack of technical challenges.
Calling a local outdoor recreation store the morning of the climb, I picked up a pair of snowshoes, which I was informed was a necessary piece of equipment with the conditions as they were (As you can see, I was well prepared.. ) It was mid-May, but the snow had lasted and held, falling well past the traditional ski season. Unusual weather patterns seemed to be a common trend on this trip, Hollywood Boulevard flooded and Texas also had a combination of deadly flooding and a tornado upon my arrival.
I was dropped off at Quandry base mid-morning and off I went (This is really not recommended as an early start tends to avoid storms that develop later in the day). There were a couple of people in the parking lot hanging out, but otherwise I was completely alone on the mountain the entire time. I guess not a good sign for what is considered to be a pretty popular hike. Luckily there was a fairly well snow covered path leading to the first half and I was able to follow at least some kind of footprints to the top.
After 30 odd minutes of hiking it started snowing and didn’t really let up until well into the descent. It wasn’t too heavy, but combined with the wind blowing past the tree line, it made for a chilly ride. When I reached the tree line, I was faced with a rather sinister scene. The neighboring peaks to the south were veiled in dark cloud and it would not be long before Quandry too was engulfed.
Pushing through, I made it to the top about 2 1/2 hours after starting. By this time, the cloud had really come in and the top of the mountain was in the midst of a pretty decent fade. I’d heard a lot about this phenomenon before (mostly advice to avoid it at all costs) and was a bit giddy about having yet another new belt experience. That lasted until I realized, I could barely see my feet.
It was difficult to follow any of the tracks I left on the way up, so I kept stumbling blindly, hoping to go in the right direction. Luckily the eastern route in Quandry is a fairly gentle incline with no cliffs or drop offs so I was pretty safe in that regard. However, I still wanted to avoid getting completely lost, as I had no idea where I was or where other roads or trails around the mountain led. Not much luck in that regard.
I managed to get down from the ridge and once again had a view of the world around me. Realizing I was off the trail but thinking I might bump into it at some point, I hit the tree line again and found some ski trails that I thought would get me where I wanted to go. Wrong. They took off in another direction entirely, at which point I was so lost I kept following them anyway, hoping they would eventually lead to a different path or route start.
The problem was that no one had been walking that path, so there was no snowpack. It was also early afternoon which meant the snow was getting soft and slushy. Great hiking conditions. Snow really is a terrible thing. You’re excited and happy the first time you see it again, but it doesn’t take long for reality to settle in and you remember what a bastard substance it really is.
It was a constant battle to get back down the mountain. She slurped each step, often falling waist-deep into the muddy white goodness. Several times I had to reach down and pull my snowshoe out by hand, as it had lodged a meter or more below the surface. Yes, I was wearing snowshoes, it was that smooth. Luckily there were some small trees I could use to get out, no idea how I would have managed otherwise.
The ski slopes eventually brought me back to the start of the route I arrived on and wearily pulled onto the road to greet a passing car. The descent had taken me as long as it had taken me to get up originally. A nice old lady picked me up and after a very enthusiastic tirade about the Amish, she dropped me off right at a local watering hole. That proceeded to be a very messy night.
*Be sure to check out this article with images at 7summitsproject.com