Newsgroups: rec.backcountry

Presenting for your armchair amusement.  I hope if you read it you enjoy
it, and if you don't that you don't mind me posting something this big.
Note that Rocky Mountain National Park is in Colorado.

	A Long Day on the High Divide:  Saturday, October 3, 1992

	By Ron Miller and Alan Silverstein


	The Week Before:

	Alan:  It was late September.  The weather was nice.  I was in
	decent shape and anticipating a free weekend.  I sent electronic
	mail to about 70 people inviting them to join me on any of three
	"gonzo" adventures.  I fully expected to do one of them alone -
	but not the Divide hike, because that required help to set up a
	car shuttle.  Bear Lake and Milner Pass in Rocky Mountain
	National Park are about 11 miles apart as the eagle flies, about
	19 miles by foot, and at least 35 miles by car.

	Ron:  I received a "hikers" mailing from Alan with several
	options.  I locked in on the Continental Divide option.  This was
	a hike I'd been eyeing for several years as I'd looked at the
	RMNP maps.  The concept of using ham radio to help coordinate the
	trip looked like a big plus for going this time.  Combined with
	unbelievably stable weather patterns, it looked possible.  On the
	other hand, a quick mileage roll of the map indicated that this
	would be a really LONG, HARD day.  My stomach stayed knotted for
	a few days as we discussed the logistics, people and weather.

	After settling on the fact that I could do it, I relaxed and got
	excited.  My other hiking friends seemed relieved that we were
	going on Saturday, the day that they had prior commitments.

	Alan:  Monday before the hike I did something really stooopid
	during my regular aerobics workout.  I typically include 200
	step-ups on a wooden box.  Part way through, I stopped to chat
	with an instructor and got good advice on how to do step-ups
	properly.  Whereupon resuming, after five more steps, I missed
	the floor.  I rolled hard on my right ankle.  Excruciating pain.
	Couldn't walk for an hour.  Limped for a week.  Ibuprofen as a
	vitamin.  You know the story...

	Ron:  I was excited enough that I slept poorly on Thursday night.
	Friday night was going to be a short night.  Four hours sleep.
	Oh well, I ran my second marathon in college without having slept
	at all the night before.

	Alan:  I got in some light, careful workouts Wednesday and Friday
	and did whatever I could to help my ankle heal.  I decided it was
	good enough to risk the hike.  I was mentally and magazinally
	prepared to turn back after half a mile if necessary and spend
	all day at Bear Lake waiting for Ron - but I really really wanted
	to make the trip.  Unlike Ron I got a good sleep Thursday night,
	but woke up an hour early Saturday morning due to excitement -
	and felt great anyway.  Ankle wrapped, prophylactic moleskin
	applied to my usual blister spots, two liters of Gatorade and one
	of water in the fridge - I was raring to go.

	Saturday, October 3, 1992:

	0230:  both parties mobile out of Fort Collins

	Alan:  I wondered why I couldn't raise Ron on the radio...  but
	continued down the road optimistic.  After ten minutes we did
	connect on simplex.

	0250:  meet in Loveland, check radios

	Ron:  After fiddling around with radios and finding my mistakes,
	I finally connected with Alan by way of the Horsetooth repeater.
	We drove up the Big Thompson Canyon while talking on the radio
	and scanning for deer (didn't see any).

	~0400:  swap vehicles at Visitor Center

	Ron:  The first deer we saw was grazing in a circle of light at
	the visitor center.

	Alan:  Ron started his videotape as we swapped gear between the
	vehicles.  I was impressed that he caught the deer in the
	darkness.

	After necessary logistics we headed out in each other's vehicle
	with no further mobile radio talk, in fact no further contact at
	all for almost four lonely hours.  I missed the turn to Bear Lake
	and had to backtrack half a mile...  I hoped Ron was laughing as
	he continued ahead of me up Trail Ridge.

	I saw more wildlife on the road, two porcupines and three lovely
	deer, than during all the rest of the time hiking.  I got the
	most excellent spot in a deserted Bear Lake parking lot, and hit
	the trail by headlamp with anticipation and a bit of dread.

	0430:  Alan departs Bear Lake trailhead, 9475'

	Ron:  The drive across Trail Ridge Road in an unfamiliar car, at
	0400, avoiding various deer and elk herds, was interesting.  I
	burst out laughing when I found that I couldn't figure out how to
	unlock Alan's door locks as I sat there in the pitch dark.  I
	couldn't find the interior light control and I couldn't open the
	door to turn the light on either!  Eventually I found the dome
	light switch and let myself out.  After taking some video,
	swilling almost a quart of water and rigging the headlamp, I was
	ready.

	Alan:  Within a few minutes I knew I could walk on my ankle.
	Also that banging my foot against a rock would cause a sharp
	pain.  I proceeded up in the darkness on the very familiar trail
	with unusual care, concentration, and deliberation.  As usual I
	paid attention to time and distance - more than most people do,
	but I like the numbers.

	0450:  Ron departs Milner Pass, 10758'

	Ron:  I was on the trail by headlamp at 0450.  I'd been on this
	trail several times this year, so this was basically just a
	transit and the darkness made little difference.  I left my radio
	off since there was no possible way that I could reach Alan
	directly or indirectly with 15 miles of mountain ridge between
	us.

	I stripped off my fleece shirt within 15 minutes and concentrated
	on not going quickly.  It's hard to walk slow at the beginning of
	a hike.  There was no wind in the trees and just the slightest
	hint of air movement once up on the tundra.

	As I broke out of the trees, I became aware that there were
	ptarmigan birds rustling around in the tundra and calling an
	annoyed bird call at my passing.  (Never caught one in my light.)

	Just a little farther up the ridge, the lights of Grand Lake
	became visible.

	The trail occasionally faded to a hint as I continued along but
	it wasn't a big problem.  I stopped once to scan with my
	headlight to be sure I was on the trail.  I was.

	Alan:  I made my way up in the darkness past various landmarks.
	I was pleased to see that I was making typical time, about
	1000'/hour and/or two miles/hour.

	I reminded myself that the purpose of any hike is to enjoy and
	return...  I wasn't enjoying myself much hiking in the dark with
	a sore foot on a familiar trail, but knew from experience that
	the real fun lay ahead.  I just had to keep on till sunrise, and
	sure enough it would (and did) become worthwhile.

	I decided I could make at least the 4.5 miles and over 2800' to
	Flattop Mountain, and still limp back down if necessary before
	Ron arrived.

	0600:  Alan reaches timberline, ceases using headlamp

	Alan:  I was disappointed and a bit concerned that I couldn't
	raise Ron at 0600.  (We'd agreed to try every hour on the hour if
	out of recent contact.)

	Ron:  I'd been moving right along following the trail until I no
	longer needed the headlight in the gray light of dawn.
	Overconfidence combined with the difficulty of aiming uphill led
	me off slightly to the east and I finally noticed that I was
	hiking on the flat top of a ridge that was curving off toward
	Forest Canyon.  Rats!  I returned to the edge of the ridge and
	viewed Azure Lake and the western side of Mount Ida in the red
	glow of dawn.

	I took video here and turned the radio on.  No repeaters, no
	nothing.  I marched off to the west to regain the proper approach
	to Mount Ida.

	0654:  observed time of sunrise

	Alan:  It was cold but calm before sunrise.  I enjoyed the lights
	and sky-reflecting lakes far below.  Unfortunately the sun broke
	the horizon just before I got high enough to see it again as I
	neared Flattop.  Nonetheless I welcomed the warming rays.  It was
	about 40 degrees cold.

	Again at 0700 I was disappointed I couldn't reach and check in
	with Ron.  I had solid copy on both the Horsetooth and Estes Park
	repeaters.  Oh well, I had lots of half-white, half-grey
	ptarmigans for company along the trail.

	0715:  Alan reaches Flattop Mountain, 12324'

	0725:  Alan departs Flattop

	Alan:  My ankle was sore but functional.  I was eager to turn
	right, go north, and visit Terra Nueva (for me).  So I limped
	gently downhill and immediately discovered that going down was
	noticeably painful at times.  Hmm...  It was a Good Thing that I
	was doing the mostly-uphill direction of the trip.  Well, I still
	wasn't having enough trouble to be concerned, and had plenty of
	time, so the decision again was "go".

	0745:  Alan reaches saddle, 12160+'

	Alan:  I'd been on a good trail until this point.  Now it was
	time to take a deep breath and depart it.  I didn't see a trail
	again until nearly 12 hours later after sunset.  Fortunately the
	intervening terrain was almost all "user friendly".

	0758:  Alan reaches Ptarmigan Point, 12363'; first radio contact
	with Ron, on Mount Ida, 12880+' (via Horsetooth; we never
	connected on Estes Park)

	Ron:  I started hearing the Horsetooth repeater as I continued to
	gain elevation.  I removed my pack and positioned the radio by
	looking at the signal strength meter.  We talked about how things
	were going.  I was kind of surprised at Alan's position.  It
	seemed like I'd barely begun my hike and he was well along.  (I
	was to have this concern throughout the day.  Falsely, it turned
	out.)  After discussing the radio strategy, I got out the cameras
	and took pictures and ate and drank.  I'd been up here before but
	the view was still spectacular.  The sun was up now and it seemed
	that things were warming up.  The day was now well and truly
	begun.

	Alan:  I was relieved to hear from Ron, and definitely starting
	to enjoy the adventure.  I decided that as long as I was there I
	might as well add a bit of distance and vertical by following the
	cliffy edge of the Divide east over several small high points.
	The view east and down was tremendous - then, and throughout the
	day.

	0815:  Alan departs Ptarmigan

	0830:  Alan reaches saddle, 12240+'

	Ron:  I departed Ida for the 500' notch over to Chief Cheley.
	Three-fourths of the way down, I stopped to remove my long
	underwear drawers.

	0836:  Alan reaches Notchtop, 12280+'

	0846:  Alan departs Notchtop

	0850:  Alan reaches saddle, 12240+'

	Alan:  My ankle was still sore, but functional, and getting no
	worse.  I had a day's supply of Ibuprofen with me but none in my
	system so I wouldn't mask any pain - unless necessary in order to
	get down.  I often renewed mental efforts to pace myself (as I
	would have anyway) and watch my footfalls (as I was sharply
	reminded any time I walked and rubbernecked simultaneously).

	The day was turning out phenomenal.  Calm, or just lightly
	breezy, warming up nicely.  Peaceful, lonely, quiet.

	Ron:  It seemed to take a long time to cross from Ida to Cheley.
	I suppose that shedding clothing and fiddling around took some
	time but I was concerned that the pace might be awfully slow.
	Distance in the clear air is deceiving.  I knew that this notch
	would take 45 minutes since I'd done it earlier this summer.

	0905:  Alan reaches Knobtop, 12331'; contacts Ron on Chief
	Cheley, 12804'

	Alan:  I was a bit late on this hourly contact because of some
	fast and exhilarating scrambling up the boulders to the summit of
	Knobtop.  It was my second visit, but the first was 15 years
	previous, during my first month in Colorado.

	I think it was here that my first radio battery pack died -
	despite a recent full charge, it was a goner, probably due to
	several summers in a hot car.  I cut back to limited radio use,
	rather than monitoring, to avoid draining the second pack (which
	lasted the rest of the day) and having to switch to an emergency
	backup method.

	Ron:  I stopped to get the video camera about every 10 minutes
	from here on as I worked south down the ridge from Chief Cheley.
	The ridge stayed pretty high except for a notch that would be an
	easy descent down to Highest Lake.  I skirted some dips in the
	ridge by going on the lake side.  There were some big rocks that
	required time to get past.

	0920:  Alan departs Knobtop

	Alan:  Although the halfway point in miles of the trip (for me)
	was partway up Sprague Mountain, and I knew the worst terrain was
	well north of there, I felt my real point of no return was to
	continue north from Knobtop.  It was a long, long 1.7 mile stroll
	over 600' downhill across tundra and scrubby willows to my next
	waypoint.  I decided I could bail out east from Sprague Pass if
	necessary and still pick up a trail and return to Bear Lake.  My
	ankle was if anything doing better, so off I went into the Great
	Unexplored Reaches of Bighorn Flats.

	I could see Sprague Mountain pretty clearly in the distance, but
	beyond and around it was a jumble of unrecognized summits.

	1020:  Alan reaches Sprague Pass, 11708'

	Alan:  An hour to do 1.7 miles downhill?  I could tell I was
	slowing down and taking it easy on my foot.  But as I reminded
	myself throughout the day, given the beautiful weather there was
	no rush.  My optimism grew.  I'd covered nearly half the distance
	and vertical and was feeling OK.

	Several times I had the bizarre thought, "I just have to make it
	halfway before I re-injure my ankle, and I'll finish this trip
	one way or the other."  Of course I laughed at the foolishness of
	the notion.  I admit it, I experienced get- there-itis.

	Ron:  I continued cruising the ridge.  It was surprising that it
	didn't drop much from Cheley.  It curved around more easterly and
	connected to the ridge comprised of Cracktop, Mount Julian and
	Terra Tomah Mountain.  The spur ridge to Cracktop looked nearly
	trivial as I passed by but I knew that this day had just begun
	and I had already put four hours work in.  No Cracktop today.

	The view into the distance was somewhat daunting.  Tundra and
	mountains marching off into a hazy distance.  I really couldn't
	pick out my target.  I knew that I was going that way but where,
	precisely, was yet to be determined.  The view was reminiscent of
	a fantasy painting of some mystical mountain wonderland.  But it
	was real and awesome!

	I continued on to the views overlooking Hayden Gorge.  This was a
	reason for this trip.  I was doing recon to see if Hayden could
	be a reasonable backpack trip.  (I'd just had a partner get cold
	feet at the bottom of Hayden, partly due to the uncertainty of
	being able to climb out of the gorge up onto the Divide ridge.
	This rerouted us back to bushwhacking to get out of Forest Canyon
	the following day by way of the Mount Ida ridge.)

	The views into the Gorge were awesome.  With no wind and warm
	sunshine, I took my time strolling along the tundra on the canyon
	lip and marveling at the quiet wildness of the gorge below.  One
	overhanging snowbank showed chopped steps in the snow leading out
	of the gorge.  This was one of the few signs of other humans
	around.

	1032:  Alan departs Sprague Pass

	Alan:  After a short break to admire Sprague Canyon, Snowdrift
	Peak, and the arcane (even obscene) Eureka Ditch pouring west
	slope water down the eastern side of the Divide, I shuffled up
	the mountainside ahead of me.  Just 1000' to lunch and a long
	break!  The hillside was wonderfully grassy.  After a while I
	realized Nakai Peak to the west presented a large, relatively
	flat cliff face, a natural radio mirror...

	~1100:  second simplex contact, bounce off Nakai Peak

	Ron:  At the southernmost view of Hayden Gorge, I heard Alan call
	on the radio by direct path.  He was climbing Sprague Mountain.
	I seemed to be within reach of the mountain summit so I replied
	that I'd be coming up.  I still had the 12,000' saddle to descend
	to but that wouldn't take long.  The climb up Sprague was of
	incomprehensible distance since I was still uncalibrated as to
	distance.  It was a 700' climb from the pass.  I chipped away at
	the altitude in rest-step mode.

	Alan:  I did pretty well on the way up Sprague's south side, but
	should have checked the map more often.  I thought the true
	summit was a rocky point east of a saddle from the main bulk of
	the massif.  So I traversed over that way to the saddle, talked
	with Ron some more, and got halfway up the pinnacle before
	realizing the main summit was higher to the west (but not by
	much!).  I blew 10-15 minutes.  No big deal, I was turned around
	and on my way up to the real top in short order.

	1151:  Alan reaches Sprague Mountain (TRUE summit), 12713'

	Alan:  Yee-haw!  It was still a gorgeous day, hardly a cloud in
	the sky and only a light breeze to dry me off.  I called Ron on
	the radio to discover he was 200' below and making good progress.
	We couldn't have planned it better if we'd tried.

	Sprague was the only "non-virgin" peak on the route, of eight
	total named summits I visited.  It possessed a register of sorts
	in a jar.  Most of the peaks didn't even offer summit cairns.
	Sprague's register had been placed a year ago to the day and
	contained 11 signatures - including ours.

	1200:  Ron reaches Sprague Mountain

	Ron:  It was nice to sit down for awhile and enjoy the view.  I
	was surprised at the altitude of the snowbanks hanging into
	Hayden Gorge since they were above us as we sat on the summit of
	Sprague!  I'd descended a long way!

	Alan:  Actually they WERE lower, not higher - it was an optical
	illusion engendered by the profusion of ridges and summits to our
	north.  The snowfields were "most of the way into the distance"
	up a long, varied, grassy ridge, but still several hundred feet
	lower.  What I guessed to be the summit of Chief Cheley - close,
	but not exactly right - was just a tad higher than us but looked
	imposing on the distant skyline.

	Ron:  We lingered for quite a while (90 minutes) eating, viewing
	and taking pictures.  It was most instructive to have Alan tell
	me that that little tiny bump, waaaaay over there was where I was
	heading.  My sense of scale was totally wrong.  It looked like
	about 30 minutes walk over to what he pointed out as Knobtop.
	The clear air and bright light really affected my sense of
	distance.

	I briefed Alan on what he would be seeing next but found it
	difficult to really describe.  And seven hours of work was hard
	to recall in adequate detail.

	1335:  both depart Sprague Mountain

	Ron:  As I left the summit, I felt the barest headache, a hint of
	nausea and the clear indications that I'd already done a full
	day's work.  But there was no place to go but onward.  Ibuprofen
	took care of the headache, the nausea disappeared, but the
	weariness remained.

	Alan:  On the other hand, I felt pretty well rested and ready to
	proceed.  I could tell I'd already covered a bit of ground, but
	my ankle was doing well.  It was tough saying farewell to Ron,
	though, to return to solitude broken only by occasional radio
	contacts.  It was weird, too, heading off in opposite directions.
	But where he'd just been, I was eager to explore.

	Ron:  The south side of Sprague Mountain was really tall!  The
	descent felt more like the view out of an airplane cockpit than a
	view of the grassy tundra.  Cloud shadows out across Bighorn
	Flats reinforced the impression of being airborne while
	descending to Sprague Pass and the Eureka Ditch.  The clouds were
	sparse and with no vertical development - no problems.

	The ditch was flowing with water which meant that there was
	relatively reliable water on the route but, unfortunately, we
	hadn't known that so I had nothing with which to treat or filter
	water.

	1400:  Alan reaches next saddle, 12000+'; hears Ron and Jaime,
	can't contact them

	Alan:  Getting down to the next pass was easy and uneventful,
	except to my surprise I encountered old melted tracks in a small
	snowfield at the bottom.  (Ron missed them, but saw footprints up
	a major snowfield that I overlooked - that's how it was.)
	Someone had been this way within the last several weeks.  It was
	one of the few signs of people all day.  Continuing north I did
	run across fresh bootprints now and then in the dirt, but they
	had to be Ron's.

	Ron:  At the 1400 radio check time I found the Horsetooth
	repeater very strong and conversed with Jaime, N0SHA, who had not
	been able to make this hike.  Alan was not reachable which was no
	surprise.

	1407:  Alan departs saddle for the long march toward Mount Ida

	Ron:  The flats across from Sprague Pass went on forever.  It
	wasn't unpleasant moving over the tundra.  Unfortunately, Knobtop
	didn't seem to get closer.  I started trying to obtain safe
	(enough) drinking water by scooping handfuls of snow into my
	wide-mouth water bottle and mixing it with the liquid water
	present to help it melt.  There were just enough leftover autumn
	snowdrifts that I could find enough snow to pack the bottle.
	Unfortunately, it didn't melt very quickly and had the
	consistency of an insect spiced slurpee (there were lots of eensy
	insects lying dead in the snow.)  The snow was a helpful
	supplement but not enough.

	Alan:  I also filled my first empty bottle with snow, much
	earlier, and like Ron, used it late in the day after finishing
	the water I started with.  I usually fill my bottle with previous
	winter snow, and it's usually clean but for a bit of grit if you
	dig down.  Well, this fresh autumn snow looked just as clean, but
	when melted it turned out to include unexpected protein...

	1438:  Alan reaches first saddle up, 12160+', after dropping 200'
	from inadvertent high point

	Alan:  Oops!  Usually it's a lot easier to pick a good route
	going down than up, and this was no exception.  The view over the
	edge down east was glorious, but I didn't expect to top out by
	following the edge.  It was disheartening dropping to the next
	saddle.  After that I trusted the map more and forced myself to
	traverse west around rather than going over the next two small
	summits - and it paid off by saving me hundreds of vertical feet.

	1500:  Alan reaches second saddle, 12360+'; hits Horsetooth, no
	Ron

	Ron:  I could barely hear the repeater at 1500 as I was still
	moving up the flats to Knobtop.  I copied Alan's transmission in
	the blind that he was at the second saddle.  Now, HE had some
	work ahead of him!

	1512:  Alan reaches third saddle, 12280+'

	Alan:  It was a quick traipse around a rocky pile, even a bit
	downhill, to the last gap before resuming steep ascending.  On
	the way up the complex terrain to the next ridgeline, an
	east-west section, I could see that Cracktop wasn't far off the
	route to the east, and not hard to reach either.  (Which was
	surprising because it was nasty and cliffy to the north, east,
	and south of it.)  I decided "what the heck, I'm here now" and
	added it to my itinerary.  It sat just east of the Divide, which
	in many places was more an abstract concept than a clear linear
	feature.

	On the way I wondered and worried about the "huge boulders on the
	way to Cracktop" reported to me by a friend who'd been on this
	same hike many years ago.  Best I could tell, he meant a raw
	section of the ridge line above the third saddle, well below
	Cracktop, and pretty easy to skirt on the west but for a short
	stretch.  It would have really slowed me down, though, if I'd
	been pedantic about following "the top of the divide" (where I
	could find it).

	1545:  Alan reaches Cracktop, 12760+'

	Ron:  The fatigue was really settling on my shoulders now.  I was
	feeling tired and dehydrated, the sun was beating down.  The
	weather was moving toward exhaustion.  It was still
	overwhelmingly beautiful to be out here but I was ready to go
	home.

	Alan:  I also felt rather tired when I got to Cracktop, and for
	the first time of the day also a bit rushed.  I'd have liked to
	linger longer but I had miles to go and summits to reach.  I
	downed food and water and added another patch of moleskin to a
	toe that doesn't usually get sore.  Resource management...
	Intellect attending to details, inner child on a natural high,
	all systems "go", or at least "can do".  It was hours more before
	I felt "tired of this game and ready to go home now."

	The view west across Highest Lake to Chief Cheley and beyond was
	stupendous.  It made the detour worthwhile.  Below Highest was a
	series of other lakes, the Gorge Lakes.  More names from the map,
	places I'd long heard of, but now, there I was.  Highest Lake,
	always a far-away fantasy - and still just as remote.  It was a
	sobering thought to realize how far I must be from the trailhead.

	1600:  Alan talks with Ron near Ptarmigan via Horsetooth

	Ron:  At the 1600 check-in we made good contact.  I was walking
	along the dramatic edge of the cliffs between Notchtop and
	Ptarmigan Point and on toward Flattop.  The view was simply
	spectacular.  As I moved along after our check-in, I conversed
	with another ham who was parked in the Bear Lake parking lot
	(N0DLW).  It was nice for me to start having people to talk to.
	I wondered about Alan's condition as he was heading more and more
	into radio blackout with the single reprieve of Mount Ida.

	Alan:  I wasn't worried, just paying attention to time and
	distance.  (I'm used to hiking alone, and even with the radio
	there's often no one to talk with at 0200!)  It became clearer to
	me that I was several hours behind Ron and we weren't going to
	meet in Estes for pizza.  I'd looked forward to that, but you
	know, it just didn't seem important now compared to enjoying the
	rest of the trip, however long it took.

	1601:  Alan departs Cracktop

	1620:  Alan reaches 12760+' point enroute Chief Cheley

	Ron:  I was now on the Flattop trail and mostly waiting around to
	hear from Alan.  I sat down for awhile and ate and drank but
	didn't feel refreshed.  It had been a long day and wasn't over
	yet.  I really wished I had more water.  Just another two quarts!
	One of Gatorade...  I tried to choke down a bagel but nothing
	tasted good.  Time to break out that old standby - Lemon Drops!
	I sucked on lemon drops three at a time, making my voice sound
	funny on the radio I'm sure.

	1633:  Alan reaches 12680+' saddle (&^%!@$#) enroute Chief Cheley

	Alan:  The most challenging scrambling of the day was in this
	stretch, down to the saddle and especially north up from it to
	Cheley's narrow, bouldery summit.  On the way on the ridge around
	Highest Lake I enjoyed the changing perspective of the Gorge
	Lakes.  I looked for the best angle to take a picture.  Going up
	to Cheley's true summit I was cursing and laughing at the
	difficulty of the terrain.  No real exposure, but some places I
	had to haul my tired body up by brute strength.

	And of course I was still on the Great Divide, in fact a narrow
	and identifiable bit of it.  Funny how the significance of that
	faded to forgotten through the day.

	1642:  Alan reaches Chief Cheley; can't raise Horsetooth

	Ron:  I had eased on over the top of Flattop and started
	babystepping down the mountain.  It felt like I was cheating to
	be starting down from my final summit while Alan was still on the
	way to his final summit.

	Alan:  I was disappointed but not surprised I couldn't raise Ron
	via the repeater.  I didn't think to try simplex; too mindless I
	guess.  But I was still having fun.  Alas, one more 560' gain to
	the last summit.  I wanted that behind me and to be on Ida by
	1800, so I didn't rest as long as I really needed.

	1657:  Alan departs Chief Cheley

	Alan:  The trip down was fast but tedious.  Still no radio
	contact, though I heard the repeater at one point and stopped to
	try.

	1719:  Alan reaches Cheley-Ida saddle, 12320+'

	1721:  Alan starts final grind uphill; no time to nap

	Ron:  I could see the plains and I figured that I would be able
	to work the repeater for quite awhile yet and so I was headed
	down.  I'd told Alan I would rest on top but the sun was getting
	low, there was a breeze, and I was getting cold.  I put my fleece
	shirt on to hike in.  The first time that I'd needed to add
	clothing while on the move.  I finished off my third quart of
	water (snow and bugs) and transferred the final quart to my ready
	bottle and continued drinking.

	I finally saw someone besides Alan as I was passed on the trail
	by two young men who were also headed down.  Their wake
	turbulence seemed intense due to our speed differences.

	Alan:  The south face of Ida was brutally steep but I took the
	direct route up.  After each three steps my heart was pounding
	and I was only good for 10-20 steps at a time, with what seemed
	like long breaks in between.  I noticed a trace of stomach
	queasiness and resolved to pace myself to make it no worse.  I
	could tell I was running on reserves.  But my spirit was fine and
	I knew I'd make the summit before long, as I saw Cheley dropping
	down again behind me.  In fact I was surprisingly fast.

	1755:  Alan reaches Mount Ida; ~560' in 34 minutes!  talks with
	Ron near timberline on Flattop trail, also with Jaime

	Ron:  Alan made the 1800 check-in time from Mount Ida.  That was
	the last point at which I expected to be able to converse with
	him on the trail.  His batteries had held out and now we tried to
	review the trail ahead of him since dusk was coming and he'd
	never been on the ridge before.  We talked off and on for about
	15 minutes including conversation with Jamie.

	Alan:  It was GREAT being on the last of eight named summits and
	the high point of the day.  I enjoyed the long late-day shadows.
	Earlier I'd hoped to blow a couple hours on Ida, maybe even nap -
	never mind the reports of cougars seen in the area.  Well I
	didn't have that luxury, with sunset approaching and the trail
	still well below me.  The half hour I spent was wonderful,
	though.  Boots off!  Food in!  Drink hearty (gulp)!

	I also had fun on the radio.  No point in saving batteries now.
	I was about to go off the air except in case of emergency and I
	was prepared for that with alkalines.  Funny, my second
	rechargeable pack refused to die.  I talked with Ron and Jaime
	until there was nothing more to discuss and it was time to return
	to quiet, lonely solitude.  Just four and a half miles left...

	1825:  Alan departs Mount Ida

	Ron:  I probably hit timberline about this time.  And the
	step-by-step phenomenon of wondering why the last, downhill miles
	to the car are soooooo long began.  I switched the radio over to
	the Park frequency to have something to listen to.  The Rangers
	were busy herding people away from the elk.

	1842:  nominal time of sunset

	Alan:  I watched the sun settle behind clouds as I descended,
	thinking how rare it was to see both a sunrise and a sunset on
	the same hike.  I got nervous about finding the allegedly
	wonderful trail before it was dark enough to require a headlamp.
	I weaved too far west and then overshot back east to reorient on
	the cliffy east side of the ridge.  All the while I tried to
	follow traces of trail through rocks and tundra down to a saddle
	on Ida's north ridge.

	Ron:  Darkness fell earlier on this side of the mountain but the
	descent was made in automatic mode.  I didn't feel like stopping
	to take my pack off to get my headlight to find my way along a
	tourist trail.

	~1915:  Alan finds trail off Mount Ida, yay!

	Alan:  I could see the trail from far off, arching up from the
	saddle left of the ridgetop.  Once on it I could and did cruise
	into darkness for at least 15 minutes (uphill, sigh).

	1920:  Ron reaches Bear Lake trailhead

	Ron:  When I got to the car it was completely dark.  I felt that
	old familiar feeling of impending hypothermia.  Damn, I hate
	that.  Reduction in my activity level now would bring on powerful
	convulsive shivers and a coppery taste in my mouth and a little
	hint of vomit compressed to the back of my throat.  I've been
	through this after marathons in college (two), climbs up Longs
	Peak (two) and occasional other monster hikes.  I had tried to
	head this off with lots of water and food (as much as I could
	force myself to eat) but apparently had been unsuccessful.

	Oh well, if the car started, I could do my shiver and sweat
	routine in the climate controlled comfort of the car.

	I was very disappointed that Alan would be so far behind and we
	couldn't eat dinner together.

	Alan:  Me too, although I figured Ron wouldn't be down till 40
	minutes later than it happened.  He made good time.  As Ron was
	unloading into his car, I stopped to get out my headlamp.  No
	point in trying the radio, I could tell.

	~1945:  Alan loses trail off Mount Ida in the dark (&^%$@!)

	Alan:  Upon resuming northerly motion, I promptly lost the trail
	and could not for the life of me see where it went next.
	Optimistic and dogged, I tried to push on around the increasingly
	steep hillside.  I really couldn't say if the trail was below or
	above me.  It was above, but I had to drop hundreds of nasty feet
	on loose scree before I was sure it was well lost.

	The trail was new enough to be absent from the map, which I
	checked several times.  I knew where I was relative to the ridge
	and to some lakes I could dimly perceive, but not where to find
	the easy way home.  I pushed on down and around, repeatedly
	finding promising trail segments that quickly petered out - must
	have been animal tracks.  Way, way down ahead I saw car lights
	cruising the road west of Milner Pass...

	Ron:  I didn't see a pay phone at the east visitor center so I
	went to the Safeway at Estes Park and called my wife to tell her
	I was safe, and left voicemail with Alan asking that he call me
	at home to ensure I met the 2300 drop-dead time.  I was
	shuddering and shaking and could hardly talk at the open-air
	phone (yuck!).

	I drove home.  Every time I moved a little in the car, a
	previously damp bit of my pants would briefly touch my skin and
	set me off into hard shivers.

	Alan:  Eventually I'd had enough of sidehilling in the dark with
	only a half-moon, usually obscured by clouds, and a headlamp.  I
	knew I was making progress, but it was tedious, painful, and
	disheartening since I had no reference points, including my
	destination.  Milner Pass was "somewhere down there" in the
	nebulous darkness to the right of the road I could make out by
	the cars passing on it.  Cursing and slipping a bit I angled
	steeply up the hill to the right, intent on finding the trail or
	reaching the ridge crest, whichever came first.

	~2030:  Alan regains trail off Mount Ida and follows it very
	closely...

	Ron:  I scarfed a bowl of hot ramen noodles at home and had a
	shower.  I put on thermax longjohns and got into bed where I
	alternately shivered and sweated and hoped to get settled down.

	Alan:  Meanwhile I proceeded down the never-ending trail.  It's
	always weird being someplace outdoors for the first time in the
	dark.  I had no idea how much further it was but I knew it
	couldn't be far...  but it was.  Perhaps another two miles.  The
	trail dropped lurchingly numerous times.  I minced my way down it
	trying not to aggravate sore knees, legs, ankles, and feet.  I
	realized Ron would be home and off the air before I got to my car
	and could call him via radio.

	That friggin' trail also went uphill in short stretches more
	often than I could count.  I got to timberline thinking I had to
	be close, but it was still a long way down in the cold blackness.
	There were a lot of steps built into the trail, and they hurt.

	Now it might sound like I was miserable and perhaps given enough
	common sense I would be, but I wasn't.  Tired and sore, yes.  But
	very very happy to have nearly completed the epic journey.  My
	mind boggled and my feet kept moving.  I took lots of breaks but
	they were short.  I kept anticipating the fresh cold water and
	the Dr.  Pepper at my car.

	2123:  Alan drags into Milner Pass trailhead

	Alan:  Three hours to drop 2100' and cover less than five miles;
	oh well.  There was my car where Ron left it!  Golly, it was as
	dark, cold, peaceful, and lonely at Milner Pass as it had been a
	sunset and a sunrise earlier when I started from Bear Lake.

	A personal record day hike, 16:23 on the trail, about 19 miles,
	6400' total vertical feet.  No one around to tell of my success.
	Hardly worth a hearty "hi-yo", even.

	I assessed and decided I wasn't really in too bad a shape.  A
	little dehydrated so I started downing fluids.  Otherwise wide
	awake enough to drive home - but it sure seemed like a loooong
	trip.  And I couldn't raise any repeaters along the way to Estes
	to call Ron by phone patch!

	2230:  Alan calls Ron, who's already in bed, from Estes to close
	plan

	Ron:  I wasn't really asleep but was groggy and stupid and
	sweating and shivering when Alan called.  I felt bad that he was
	still not home yet but was happy to know he was safe.  Meantime I
	had to get my body temp back under control.  It was better that I
	be in such sorry shape at home than be out on the trail like
	this!

	Alan:  I knew a full meal would knock me out, so I settled for a
	drive-through milkshake on top of the soda, half a pound of
	pistachios, and two Ibuprofen.  Cruised down the Big Thompson
	Canyon happy and awake, listening to Enya's Watermark, and was
	home by 2335, just in time for a hot bath.

	I didn't want to go to sleep and end the day.  Also I was a
	little scared that I'd feel LOTS worse when I woke up!

	The Day After:

	Ron:  I stretched upon waking and after my shower.  Lots of
	stiffness over my body, lost the spring in my step but otherwise
	no problems.  Not even any blisters.

	Sunday was a good day to putter around the house.  <grin>

	Alan:  Amen.  I was not at my peak but felt pretty decent.  I
	only slept about seven hours.  I did have blisters, nothing
	serious, but I could walk!  Especially amazing on that sore
	ankle.

	Ron:  Lessons learned:

	  + Take the water filter, just in case.

	  + Take more powerbars.  Space them out through the day.
	    (Requires water.  The one I had came home intact.)

	  + My radio battery strategy worked well.

	  + Route finding was not a problem but Alan was more prepared
	    than me due to more detailed study.

	  + I have a problem with the onset of hypothermia.  Still needs
	    work to understand and resolve (potentially fatal).

	Alan:  Next time, go north to south and find a young stud to do
	the other direction.  <grin>