I went solo again. I'm not much of a solo-type guy, but there are advantages. The biggest one is that I don't have anyone putting pressure on me to continue in miserable conditions. I think I still continue on in miserable conditions (as I'll describe below) when solo, but I don't have the pressure of letting down my partner if I decide to turn around. Things went a bit better on this ascent than the last one, but that wouldn't be tough. Most importantly, I made it, but it was in doubt.
I got to the trailhead at 6:05 a.m. but dragged my feet leaving the car. I used the bathroom, packed up, and got dressed. I realized I didn't bring my special climbing bibs and instead brought an old pair of skiing bibs, circa 1980. Dang. They are both black bibs and I grabbed the wrong one. I was wearing running shoes from the start this time, with the Kahtoola Flight Boots over them. I put in footbed heaters and my feet were warm the entire time.I wore two light shirts with a shell over the top and when I got to treeline I donned a down vest. I had chemical heaters in my gloves and my hands stayed warm.
I
took an ice axe (absolutely required, as you'll see), ski poles, and, at the last
minute, I threw in the Flight Deck snowshoes. There was supposed to be new snow
from a storm the night before. As it turned out, I shouldn't have needed these
at all...but I did.
Another guy showed up and we hit the trail one right after the other around 6:40 a.m. He had snowshoes, poles, crampons, ice axe, "ankles to nuts" as he called it. I asked where he was headed and he was thinking just to the keyhole and maybe Mt. Lady Washington. I was hesitant to mention my goal, in case I turned around before this guy did. I told him I was just headed up to see what the winds and snow conditions were like.
Twenty minutes or so into the hike ( I had left the other guy behind, despite moving at a slow pace), I met a climber coming down. He said he was turned around by snow up to his thighs. He didn't have snowshoes with him. I asked how high he got and he said, "I was nearly there." I assumed he meant the summit with all that climbing gear, but it was just past 7 a.m.! I asked, "Where?" He said, "To tree line." Hilarious. He was geared for climbing Longs, but I think he got an introduction into what solo winter climbing is like on Longs. He headed up at 3:45 a.m. and would be back at his car by 7:15 a.m. or so - 3.5 hours without getting to tree line! That's a tough lesson. Apparently he took a wrong trail. I'd do the same thing much later.
The trail was reasonably well packed until just before treeline when the trail literally disappeared. I tried a couple of options trying to find hard snow and eventually put on my snowshoes. Five or ten minute later I hit the trail again and had to pull the snowshoes off. Above tree line there was almost zero snow on the trail. And it didn't get that way by melting... It was really blowing up there. I put on my down vest and struggled onward to Chasm Cutoff, taking a pitiful two hours to get there. I was headed to the Loft, which is between Meeker and Longs Peak, so I took the trail towards Chasm Lake. In the photo above the Loft route is the snow gully on the far left. You can see the cliff band near the top and that section would cause me some consternation.
I had heard that the aproach to Chasm Lake was threatened by avalanche danger, but I don't think this is the case. There is one snowfield to cross and it is steep, but not that long. It was rock hard and when I tested it with my boots, I almost fell down the slope. I retreated and stowed the ski poles, trading them for my ice axe. I wouldn't get the ski poles back out until I was down in the trees again.
I really like the warmth and comfort of the Flight Boots, but these are not climbing boots and the snowshoe cleats on the bottom of this boot are not crampons. Moving across this snowfield was a bit dicey because my boots weren't gaining much purchase and I coudldn't even get my axe that far into the snow. Getting across safely was a lot of work and I was tired on the other side.
I was all alone now and had been after the first 20 minutes of the hike. Longs Peak isn't too crowded this time of year. I moved up the gully leading to the Loft and the winds picked up. The snow in this gully was similar to the snowfield I had crossed, but not as steep. At least I wasn't postholing. I found the easiest way to move up this gully was backwards! Going backwards not only kept my back to the wind, but allowed me to place all my cleats in the hard snow. Each step was tiny, but I found I could go long stretches without stopping to rest. Bizarre, I now, but it worked. The Flight Boots have no front points, so you need to use French technique to ascend steep snow fields and going backwards is sort of the same thing. Plus, this allowed me to push myself uphill with my quads and save my calves.
The Loft has a very steep section a little ways below the saddle. This is part frozen waterfall and part steep scrambling. The way it is normally passed is via a ramp system on the left. Feeling tired and lazy, I thought I could climb straight up it on the rocks. I did do this, but it was very dangerous and I got myself into a death fall situation. I was completely solid and moved slowly, knowing the consequences of a mistake. I investigated a number of options before deciding on a steeper exit because it was solid and not a holdless slab above the water fall or an ice filled gully. Once past it and on the bullet-hard snow above, I knew I wouldn't be descending that way.
The snow above was scary as well because it was once again very hard and the Flight Boots had difficulty gaining a secure footing. I had to laboriously plunge my ice axe into the snow, then move both feet up, balance, and then quickly reset the ice axe. It was slow, tiring, stressful work. Plus, I knew what was coming.
For the last hour approaching the saddle I could hear the tremendous wind and see the snow being whipped across it. I was relatively sheltered below the saddle but as I approached it became unbelievable. I remembered that Bill Briggs one year was trying to climb Longs every month of the year (what a concept!) and he failed in February like trying the Loft (he eventually succeeded on this task a decade later). He got turned back by high winds at the saddle. Doh! The same thing was happening to me.
I was nearly certain I'd have to go down, as I could hardly stand up in this wind, but I had done so much work already. I figured if I could get across the Loft and down the other side to the Clark's Arrow Traverse, the wind might not be so bad because it wasn't so bad lower down no the side I had come up. Pulling this plan off was desperate. I don't think I've ever walked into such a strong wind before. Later, when I would cross the saddle in the other direction, I find it extremely difficult not to get blown down the mountain.
A hike that should take 5-10 minutes, took me fully 30 minutes to finally drop down enough to get out of the gale force. It was still very windy all the way to the summit (and super windy up there, where I did get completely knocked over), but nothing compared to the Saddle.
I ditched my pack when I started back up, now in the Keplinger Couloir and then across another steep, scary, hard snow field to the Homestretch slabs. For this last ascent, I ditched my pack and it still took me an hour to complete it. I arrived on top 5h27m after I started. I was surprised and a little bit satisfied that no one had climbed the mountain since my January ascent. Coming down was a lot easier than going up, but the winds kept things interesting.
Back at my pack, I ate the second hard boiled egg. I had the first before heading up the last section. This was the only food I'd eat the entire climb. I continue to be incredibly bad at getting calorie in me and it showed, I was bonking all the way out. I did down a liter of hot chocolate that I think had 800 calories in it and some Gatorade.
Crossing the Loft was crazy. I didn't have to do any effort to move forward, in fact I had to work hard to break myself, lest I fall flat on my face. I worked over to the traverse bypassing the crux section but the traverse back to the couloir on more hard snow above a big cliff was something that required a lot of care. Once in the couloir I was overjoyed to find that I could very carefully glissade it. This was quite physical as I had to inch down the snow while pressing hard on my axe and digging in one boot to control my speed, but it beat standing up. The lower I got the easier the glissading became. Not because the snow was any softer - it wasn't, but because the angle was less steep.
Just above the ranger hut I noticed two people sliding around on the surface of Chasm Lake. They were the first people I had seen since early that morning and would be the last until within a mile of the trailhead. Recrossing the snowfield wasn't so bad, but did require care. I slogged up the hill the Chasm Cutoff junction and then down the Longs Peak trail. When the trail disappeared just above tree line I followed a set of tracks way too far to the south. I was now plunging in to mid-thigh. Dang. I didn't want to climb back up, but I knew I was in trouble there. I despaired a bit, but dug out my Flight Deck snowshoes and they saved the day! I followed the tracks which had now turned to snowshoe tracks and it wasn't too bad. I was able to stay in the footprints nicely as I bushwhacked through the trees. I was glad when the guy who set this path realized where he went wrong and headed a hard north. After 15 minutes or so I finally hit the real trail again.
It was all over but the walking at that point, but any walking at this point was tiring for me. I got back to the car 8h44m after I left. This was about an hour faster than my last ascent. Now I have three weeks off from Longs before my March attempt. I'll have to figure out a different route. I'm probably going to need a partner pretty soon...