Vail to Aspen - 10th Mountain Tour 2006

March 19 - Vail Pass to Fowler/Hilliard Hut
I left the Vail Pass trailhead around 8:00am with very little concern for the snow showers that were forecast for the afternoon. The sky was bright blue in every direction and the trail was a perfectly manicured snowmobile path. Despite these picturesque conditions it was a bit intimidating to embark on an 11 day, 85 mile, solo ski trip to Aspen through the backcountry of the Colorado Rockies with nothing but a pair of telemark skis, a 40 pound pack, and a nightly reservation at each of the 10th Mountain huts along the way. After about two hours of hiking up Wilder Gulch I noticed heavy cloud cover blowing in from the west and the south - forcing me to quicken my pace with more "determined" steps so as to beat the potential white-out to the summit of Ptarmigan Hill, a 12,000 foot, treeless mountain lying between me and the first night's hut. About half way up the east face of Ptarmigan Hill several skiers in tow behind snowmobiles passed me. Quite an easy way to get some backcountry skiing in, but I must admit I felt a bit of self-righteous satisfaction when I passed one of the stalled machines a few minutes later. By this time, the wind had picked up dramatically and I was forced to dig out heavier gloves and a facemask. At the summit, the visibility was still quite good and I sheltered myself behind an old abandoned radio transmission shack, peeled off my climbing skins and pushed off down the west face for my first powder turns of the trip. As expected, the top half was less-than-spectacular wind/sun crust but the bottom half presented me with delightful ankle-deep powder turns. I pushed, glided, and sidestepped my way along the last mile or so to the Fowler/Hilliard Hut. Not long after settling into my hut clothes, the wind intensified again and began blowing snow horizontally passed the windows from the south. This made for a rather cozy feeling inside the warm hut with the wood-burning stove well stoked and radiating its gear-drying warmth. Of course, the wind and snow did make me think about what kind of snow conditions were in store for tomorrow's trip. Around 8:00pm two first aiders came up on snowmobiles to evacuate a woman from Boulder who was suffering from acute altitude sickness; she had been vomiting since she arrived at the hut around 5:00pm.

March 20 - Fowler/Hilliard Hut to Jackal Hut
I climbed out of my sleeping bag around 6:30am to gray skies, poor visibility, and a light snowfall. About two inches fell overnight. With no sign of a break in the weather, I decided to get an early start and left for the Jackal Hut shortly after breakfast (instant coffee and instant oatmeal.) Blessed with splendid powder conditions, I made my way down the east side of Resolution Bowl, breaking rhythm only to avoid the center gully that acts as a terrain trap for any slide on the SE face of Resolution Mountain. From the bottom of the bowl it's a quick 2-mile glide down Resolution Road, where I slapped on my skins and pushed through the light two inches of fluff up the Pearl Creek drainage. My skins are working well, my boots feel great, and the snow conditions are unexpectedly pleasant; everything is going exceptionally well - a much-needed boost to my confidence. After a few miles, including a steep climb up the west shoulder of Pearl Peak, I reached the saddle between Pearl Peak and the hut. About a half hour later I reached the Jackal Hut, built a fire, got out of my ski clothes, fixed a late lunch (freeze dried Chili Mac) and settled in with my journal and hot cocoa, pleased with the ease of my day's journey.

March 21 - Jackal Hut to Vance's Cabin
Baby blue skies filled with wispy white clouds got me on the trail early; more snow was forecast for the day. It seems as though I will use any weather, good, bad, or changing in either direction between the two, as an excuse to head out early. Perhaps I'm anxious to successfully complete the next leg of my journey, or perhaps it's because the invariably interesting evening conversation with fellow hut residents is replaced by groggy bedheads staring into coffee cups or into preparatory pots of water on the propane stove. For me, a quick trip to the outhouse and I'm raring to go. I do insist on having a quick breakfast - a morning of hiking is much easier with some fuel in the tank. Even though the descent down the Cataract Creek drainage to the Eagle River valley floor drops about 2,000 vertical feet, the trail undulates up and down and the downhill segments do not offer very compelling skiing, so I kept my skins on for the entire day's tour. Near the end of the descent I crossed a slide path consisting of several dozen beach ball-sized chunks of avalanche debris that had recently broken loose from the SW-facing slope above. Looking up for the crown, it struck me that this was not a slope I would have expected to avalanche; it must have happened a few weeks ago during that extended period of strong sun. The hike up the south side of the valley was fairly easy. I've been lost in this area before but now that I know where the trail is, it is rather easy to follow - especially because there was a faint but discernable indentation under the three-inch blanket of fresh snow, left by the previous travelers of this route. There are also a lot of coyote tracks along the trails (yesterday's included;) either there are a lot of coyotes in this area or just one who has kindly volunteered to show me the way. Half way up to my destination I stopped in a large meadow, laid my pack down flat, stuck my skis in the snow behind it for a backrest and sat for a nice relaxing lunch (energy bar and Gatorade.) The sun and the clouds had been competing for control all morning, so when the clouds got the upper hand, I dismantled my recliner and finished the trek to Vance's cabin. This, however, was not the final destination since I was unable to get a reservation for this particular hut. I was however lucky enough to meet a guide, Greg with Paragon Guides, on a prior hut trip, who heard about my "then-pending" trip and my lack of a reservation at Vance's and generously offered me a night at his cabin which sits just 1/4 mile down the hill. Greg's cabin is a beautiful one-room cabin with a loft. He built it himself and did a magnificent job. The outhouse is 150 feet away; I love having to put on skis to go to the bathroom! Anyway, as I write this (on the window bench with a Cup-a-Soup in hand and the corner wood stove blazing,) the clouds seem to have finally won the battle and have released a thick dusting of fresh snow on the deck of my private hut.

March 22 - Greg's cabin to 10th Mountain Division Hut
Well the outhouse called me out of bed at 6:30am; having to ski there was no longer as appealing in the 4-degree F morning chill. The evening's dusting had grown to about three inches, causing me some concern for Priscilla's drive to Tennessee Pass. Our plan was to meet for lunch at the lodge at Cooper Ski Resort, which we did. One greasy bacon cheeseburger and several hugs later, I was off, across Highway 24 and into the forest on the east side of the continental divide. My coyote guide seemed to have abandoned me but this popular section of trail is very well marked in addition to being very well tracked by the day's skiers. My shoulders ached under the weight of my pack for much of the seemingly endless three hours of gentle ascent. I wondered if Priscilla had hidden a few heavy snacks in my pack while I was in the bathroom - somehow my shoulder strain had to be her fault. Alas, no treats were found - damn her, I was looking forward to them all afternoon. I think I need to start eating more of my food to lessen the weight of my pack a little each day.

March 23 - 10th Mountain Division Hut to Uncle Bud's Hut
Last night I agreed to show a couple from Tennessee the way to Uncle Bud's Hut. They had been unsuccessful yesterday in their attempts to find the trail. I had completed this route a few weeks ago on one of my many "training" trips, so I was confident in my ability to be the day's coyote. They were not terribly proficient on their rented cross-country ski gear so the going was slow, especially on the predictably sun-crusted downhills. At the bottom of Long's Gulch the crust, predictably, turned to mush making the long traverse along the north side of the valley rather arduous. At the top of the other side of the gulch I stretched out on my ski and pack recliner and enjoyed a picture-perfect lunch while I waited for John and Senya to catch up. The hut is separated from our lunch spot by a short ski into Porcupine Gulch, several steep switchbacks up to the east ridge of Galena Mountain, and another short ski down the far side of the ridge. It was a nice surprise to arrive at the hut to a group who knew my name and of my voyage. Apparently, the small group I met at the Jackal Hut told them of my trip and that I was scheduled to be at Uncle Bud's today. But my string of fame will only last for one hut because the group (that was planning on continuing to my next two huts) decided their trip was too ambitious and skied out to the nearest trailhead today. My trip is just about half over. I couldn't be more pleased with how well things have gone thus far - let the powers that be bless the coming half.

March 24 - Uncle Bud's Hut to Skinner Hut
An 8:00am departure and a fast, icy ski down a well-traveled path put me on the Turquoise Lake Road where I began the seven mile ascent up Glacier Creek to the Hagerman Pass Road. This ascent is supposed to be the steepest in the 10th Mountain Division Hut System but I found it fairly easy and put it behind me in a couple of hours with only a few very minor slips backward. At the hut I ran into another guide I know from Paragon Guides, Don, who generously offered me a beer from his private stash in the hut's locked basement; Miller Genuine Draft never tasted so good. My reputation preceded me once again; the next two to arrive at the hut asked me if I was the "animal" that was trekking from Vail to Aspen. Apparently they crossed paths with the Uncle Bud's group (as they were making their way down) who told them of my trip and that I would be at the Skinner Hut tonight. This couple also offered me some of their Foster's Lager - and here we sit, drying gear and drinking beer.

March 25 - Skinner Hut to Betty Bear Hut
In bad weather this leg, being mostly above tree line, can be one of the most difficult in the hut system; in good weather it can be one of the easiest, being a mere 4 1/2 miles long. I was lucky and had perfect weather allowing me to make short work of the minimal elevation changes, arriving at the Betty Bear Hut in just under two hours. The route did however bring me back across the continental divide at Hagerman Pass, which at 12,000 feet, is the highest point of my entire journey. A few minutes NE of the hut I ran across 10 women (who were to be my roommates for the night) out for a day's cross-country ski tour. So this is what a mirage looks like. Well real or imagined, I felt a little extra pressure to be a good hut resident and made sure I filled the firewood bins and the snow-melt bucket before their return. The mirage proved to be real as the women trickled back to the hut a few hours later. They were all exceptionally nice and showed a lot of interest in my trip. We talked, ate baked goods, drank wine, and played cards. I volunteered to do all their dishes in return for a place at their dinner table; we had salmon filets, salad, pasta, mixed veggies, and olive loaf. This full, home-cooked meal couldn't have come at a better time, for tomorrow's ski is by far the longest of the tour. Word must have spread of my location because after dinner, three more women arrived at the hut, making the already overwhelming ratio 13 to 1. They kept me up a little later than I would have liked with their pajama party style discussion of men, but I found it fascinating none-the-less.

March 26 - Betty Bear Hut to Margy's Hut
This was an incredibly long and physically exhausting day with about an hour of downhill, almost nine hours of uphill, and only a handful of 5-minute energy bar breaks. I hit the trail at 6:30am sharp to increase my chances of making it to Margy's Hut before dark and avoiding an overnight campout en route. Judging from the 1/4 inch of new snow, it must have started snowing shortly before I looked out the windows of the breakfast nook. It continued to snow heavily as I made my way to the steep, icy, crusty, and heavily-treed switchbacks that led me to Forest Service Road 505, which had very recently been plowed. Unable to ski on the thinly covered gravel, I climbed onto the uphill bank and slowly made my way along the roadside through occasional bushes and a driving wind blowing snow directly into my face. When the bushes grew too dense, I climbed down the bank and up the 4-foot bank on the downhill side of the road. Skiing along this side was extremely dangerous; I noticed several point release avalanches that ran long distances down the very steep and rocky wall to the valley floor below. I crossed just above (only a few feet above) a few of these slides and a few obvious slide paths that had not run yet, before I decided that I was tempting fate far too often on this side and climbed back over to the upper side. Skiing along this side until the vegetation grew too thick, along the other side until the avalanche danger grew too risky, and down the center of the road (carrying my skis at times when the gravel poked through,) I eventually reached the trailhead and began the 1 mile trek along the Fryingpan Road to the next trailhead on the other side of the valley. I hugged the left edge of the road, right near the trees, so I could see the cut-off to the trailhead through the relentless horizontal snowfall in my face. As I ventured into the forest (after having found the trailhead) the wind died down, the snowfall stopped, and the sun began to melt the ice that had formed on my jacket, facemask, and eyebrows. Even breaking trail through 3 to 5 inches of new snow, I made good time up to, and along, Forest Service Road 504, all the way to the Chapman Creek Road. This road was also recently plowed but easily skiable given the amount of fresh snow that had fallen during the morning hours. Skiing along this plowed road with its 4+ foot vertical banks made me feel a bit like a rat in a maze, with Twin Meadows replacing cheese as my goal. I reached Twin Meadows well ahead of schedule, which given the horribly slow fight down Road 505, came as a very pleasant surprise. A quick energy bar break and I was off breaking trail up the Aspen-Norrie trail across Deeds Creek and up into Foster Gulch. As exhaustion set in, Lady Luck smiled in my direction and sent a group of skiers barreling down the trail in the opposite direction, whose tracks I could follow for the final 3 or 4 miles, through Sawmill Park, and up to Margy's Hut. About 1/4 mile from the hut, I spotted the partially completed snow cave and lost water bottle (that I had hung on a tree branch a few weeks earlier) left by a group that finally found the hut I was already asleep in on one of my "training" trips. Once at the hut I prepared and ate dinner and almost immediately slipped into my sleeping bag for a well-deserved 12-hour coma.

March 27 - Mount Yeckel
I had reserved two nights at Margy's Hut, so since I made it here in one day yesterday (avoiding the semi-expected overnight camp in Twin Meadows) today was a day of rest. I slept in until 9:00am, had a second cup of coffee after breakfast, and skinned to the summit of Mount Yeckel for lunch. From the summit, I enjoyed 360 degrees of inspiring views, including and most importantly, the view to the SW - Aspen Mountain. The destination is in sight. Back at the hut I drank margaritas and chatted with a group of very friendly military personnel (special forces and aviators) who describe themselves as individual-minded, non-partyline, nature-loving liberals. For dinner they prepared (and graciously shared) deliciously seasoned chicken fajitas.

March 28 - Margy's Hut to McNamara Hut
After a brief staring match with the Pine Marten that seemed to be guarding the outhouse, a quick breakfast, and a pack-up (which is getting noticeably easier with the ever shrinking volume of food to be transported) I was off into the forest on my way back to Sawmill Park where I could pick up the Spruce Creek trail which would lead me down to the Woody Creek trail which would lead me up to the McNamara Hut, the last hut in my journey. Today's tour has won the honor of having the worst snow conditions. Since about 10:30am (at the bottom of the Woody Creek valley) the sun had warmed/melted the snow (on all aspects) to the perfect temperature/moisture content, to relentlessly adhere to the bottom of my skis. This condition, known as skin glob, is frustrating, debilitating, and demoralizing, as it adds many pounds of weight to the skis that no longer have any glide, forcing you to step laboriously through the snow. So after a few hours of knocking the snow glob off with my poles, trees, and my ski scraper, I arrived at my final hut only moderately frustrated. I was not about to allow a little (or even a lot) of skin glob to get the best of me; this was, after all, my last hut.

March 29 - McNamara Hut to Aspen
The last day; the final descent into Aspen. A quick and easy descent, including some fun turns on unbreakable crust in Van Horn Park and some views of the Aspen Mountain Ski Resort. At the trailhead I felt a sense of accomplishment as I snapped my final few photos of the town of Aspen one mile below. I now need only wait for Priscilla to pick me up and bring me down to town for a much-needed shower and a well-deserved drink at the Hotel Jerome. Looking back on the last eleven days I realized the trip was flawless, a complete success. While I did not necessarily enjoy every moment of every day, I did enjoy every day as a whole, and certainly enjoyed the tour as a whole. I successfully avoided all of the dangers that such a winter trip poses, including frostbite, hypothermia, sunburn, dehydration, malnutrition, exhaustion, illness, injury, disorientation, equipment failure, avalanches, wild animal encounters, and falling into running water while crossing unstable snow bridges. But most importantly, I avoided the disappointment of failure. I made it; I made it all the way from Vail to Aspen on my skis, with my world strapped to my back, conquering the daily challenges of snow covered slopes, valleys, and ridges.