Gray’s and Torrey’s Peaks
8-15 & 8-16-04

My Dad’s friend Dan picked us up at 4:30 PM on Sunday. I had never met Dan before, but he was a cool guy. He’s climbed a few fourteeners in the past couple of years, so when my Dad told him about our plan to climb Gray’s and Torrey’s, he was eager to join us (and he even offered to drive). On the way there, Dan and my Dad talked quite a bit, and I read Albert Camus’ The Stranger and occasionally entered the conversation when it became interesting (e.g. when the subject switched to mountain climbing or philosophy).

We reached the Bakerville exit and proceeded up the dirt road. I was a little surprised that Dan drove so slowly; after all, he had a good 4 wheel drive and no one else was around, but I guess he wanted to be cautious. When we came upon the nastiest section of the road, my Dad and I were dismayed to see that its condition had worsened in the few weeks since we’d last been there. Dad I and got out of the SUV and began piling rocks in the deepest holes and Dan tried for a good fifteen minutes to drive across it. We tried numerous approach angles, but the road was too steep and the washout too terrible. We continued piling rocks into the road until at last he made it over, and we continued on. Behind us a rather naïve group of people in a Ford Mustang decided to pass over the washout but realized how bad it was when they were closer to it.


Dan and Dad attempt washout repair

Near the trailhead we found a good-looking campsite and began pitching out tents. I chose a fairly flat area about fifty feet from the spot Dan and my Dad selected. As I pulled my tent out of the bag it began to rain, which encouraged me to hurry. In my haste I didn’t do a very good job of setting a couple of the stakes, which cause a section of my tent to collapse later that night, but it wasn’t a big deal. On the Mount of the Holy Cross trip I learned an extremely helpful lesson: always bring plenty to eat. For this trip, my Dad and I actually ate a little too much. We brought sandwiches from Albertson’s, ramen, Pringles, and Dan passed out hot chocolate and blueberry scones. I went to bed feeling very full.

Oddly, I have never been more comfortable in a tent than I was that night, and I have never slept as poorly. For the first time I brought my foam sleeping pad (it’s normally too bulky to bring along, but this trip we were able to store our gear in Dan’s SUV). I was warm, the rain wasn’t leaking in, and I had plenty of room, but I still only slept one or two hours at most. I think my insomnia resulted from excitement and the simple fact that my campsite wasn’t as flat as I had first estimated. I fought gravity all night and tried to keep from rolling down the (small) hill. Next time I’ll bring a pocket level and check the site before I pitch my tent.

My watch alarm went off at 4 AM, just forty-five minutes after I finally began to sleep well. I unzipped my tent and discovered that it was very cold outside. I suited up, complete with gloves and a warm hat, and began rolling up my sleeping bag and disassembling my tent. It only took a few minutes, then I walked off (with the aid of my trusty 38.5 pound Mag-lite flashlight) toward Dad and Dan’s tent. They were making breakfast, and I drank some coffee and ate a breakfast bar. I helped my Dad pack up his stuff, then we proceeded to the trailhead.


Early morning light on Gray's and Torrey's Peaks


We’re all wearing blue to frighten bears

The first couple of miles went by quickly, thanks to the easy trail and the sun rising at our backs (much better than in our eyes, I would say). After a few more miles the trail became noticeably rockier, and Dan and Dad began to lag behind. I patiently slowed my pace and waited for them, but then I saw a group of mountain goats about a mile ahead of us, and they encouraged me to rush ahead to get some photos (Dan and Dad, not the mountain goats). In case I have not mentioned it before, one of my mountaineering dreams is to observe mountain goats climbing on a cliffside and stand close enough to take good photos. So, I raced ahead and made wonderful time up the series of switchbacks, but by the time I reached the location where I had seen the goats, they were gone. I looked around for a long time, but I couldn’t spot them anywhere. I did find plenty of evidence of their presence, though, including thick tufts of white fur tangled around bushes and large pinecone-like spoor (I didn’t eat any, though).


Mount Kelso (13,164 Ft.) in background


Dad and Dan lag behind . . . very far behind

I sat and waited for at least half an hour for Dad and Dan to catch up. As they came nearer, I noticed that a girl was talking to them, and soon she passed them and approached my location. When she was close, I greeted her, and we talked for a few minutes. She was really nice (in more ways than one). I mentioned that I was waiting for the guys she just passed because I didn’t want to reach Gray’s summit without them. She thought that was really nice. Ah, nice. Dad, Dan and I made it to the summit alive, took a few minutes to rest, then headed down to the saddle connected to Torrey’s Peak. I noted that I was higher than I had ever been in my life: 14, 270 feet.


Andy on Gray's summit (Torrey's in the background)

Clouds began to form over Gray’s Peak while we crossed the saddle, and I hoped that they would stay far away from Torrey’s, at least for a little while. A few minutes later the clouds looked much worse, so my Dad suggested that I go ahead of them. I met up with the girl again, and I learned that her name was Katy. We hiked together all the way from the saddle to Torrey’s summit, and I enjoyed her company. She was from New York and had decided to drive down to Colorado to climb a few fourteeners. Wow. I was impressed. Not many pretty girls drive hundreds and hundreds of miles to climb mountains, of this I am certain (and she’s even climbed more fourteeners than I have). When we reached the summit we rejoiced much and took photos for each other. As I’ve mentioned, she was quite attractive, and I wanted to take a picture of her just because . . . um, well, just read the previous statement. I thought of saying– this is terrible, by the way, and I would never recommend saying anything of this sort– “Hey, mind if I get a photo of you? I just want to prove to my friends that there really are beautiful women who climb mountains.” I rehearsed it a few times, then began to wonder what the heck I was thinking. How could I even consider something so lame?! Must have been the altitude.


Torrey's Peak


The guys on Torrey's Summit

Dan and Dad showed up, and there was much more rejoicing and photo-taking. The clouds continued to approach, so we prudently decided to jog back down. We took another trail down (we didn’t want to ascend Gray’s from the saddle again), and we went very fast. Katy stayed with us for a little while, then she bid us farewell and took off when we stopped for a rest. *sigh* Dan noticed three Ptarmigans foraging in the bushes by the trail, and he took photos of them. I had never seen Ptarmigans, so it was cool to be so close. They were not concerned by our presence in the least, and they allowed Dan to approach within a couple of feet. By that time I was tired and didn’t feel like pulling out my camera.


Dad on the return from Torrey's

Near the end of the trail (or beginning, I should say), I jogged far ahead of Dad and Dan and went off the trail and followed the stream back to the trailhead. It was a fun detour, and I didn’t fall in the water even once. By the time we returned to the SUV, I had the worst headache I think I’ve ever had. I know, I know, “Drink more water!” I drank so much that I had to "step off the trail" every twenty minutes, but the pain still did not abate. The ride back down the dirt road made it even worse (surprise). The three of us dreaded passing over the washed out area that had given us so much trouble on the way up. We were too tired to spend twenty minutes rearranging rocks. We drove for a couple of miles, and as we came around every bend, we would say, “I remember that the washout was right here.” But it wasn’t. We finally realized that while we climbed during the day, a park ranger or someone had graded the entire dirt road and smoothed out the worst places. We didn’t have any trouble getting down. Dad and I were especially amazed by this, because we knew that the road had been awful for over a month at least.

The drive home was long and my head felt too bad to read any Camus. We stopped at a gas station in south Denver and my Dad bought me some painkillers. I really enjoyed Gray’s and Torrey’s Peaks. They were the easiest fourteeners we’ve climbed, but they were still challenging, and the scenery, as always, was well worth the effort.