“When as pilgrims we come to revisit thy halls,
To what kindlings the season gives birth!
Thy shades are more soothing, thy sunlight more dear,
Than descend on less privileged earth…”
–From “Hail Harvard”, the alma mater of that institution
These words could just as easily apply to the mountain, eh? I wonder if any Harvard folks ever make the pilgrimage out west to climb their namesake peak, the third highest in Colorful Colorado?
Mt. Harvard is tucked away behind Mt. Columbia and is one of the longer hikes among the Colorado 14ers. The mountain itself is massive–although perhaps not quite as massive as Mt. Massive. The long traverse between Harvard and Columbia is a goal of many a 14er ridge walker and would make for a huge day well above 13,000′. And, of course, the Horn Basin is itself an alpine Eden.
On this trip, I planned a bivouac at treeline so as to get to the summit in time for some sunrise photography, but I ended up sleeping on the rocky summit itself. The fading evening light, the stars, the half Moon, and Venus all conspired to draw me ever upward. Sometimes I wonder if this is a physically measurable phenomena–that the human body can actually manufacture caloric energy from the metaphysical mind-state of being in exceptionally beautiful surroundings. There has to be something to it, no?.
As I worked my way up the tundra and talus by headlamp and intermittent moonlight, I also pondered yet another motivation I have for climbing 14ers and for spending time in the wilderness: I am creating a bank of memories. I thoroughly enjoy reading back through my trip reports, or looking at photographs from past expeditions, or talking with friends about our trips–it is a way of savoring and reliving the intensity of those moments.
Someday–and I am hoping to stave off that day as long as possible–I will no longer be able to do these things. In those last golden years, maybe parking the car at a scenic pullout in the mountains will be all I can manage. When that time comes, I can augment this slightly lesser “income” with occasional withdrawals from my wilderness savings account. Just a random thought.
Trip Report: Mt. Harvard (14,420′)
Route:
The Class 2 South Slopes Route from the North Cottonwood Creek Trailhead at 9,900′–making a hike of about thirteen miles round trip and 4,500′ vertical.
Timeline:
I left Boulder around 2p.m. the day prior (Tuesday, the 23rd) and was walking up the trail by 6p.m. By sunset, I had made the creek crossing in the basin and was well above treeline.
The weather looked good, with dissipating cumulus and some high cirrus in the sky, and the forecast didn’t look particularly evil–just the usual afternoon thunderstorm threat– so I elected to push on to the summit for my bivy rather than camp in the last of the trees (This would be fun!).
Once on the Harvard ridge, though, some very distant lightning (couldn’t even hear the thunder, thankfully), an approaching line of low, dark clouds, and a bit of light rain freaked me out a bit, so I found shelter in the lee of a large rock and pulled out the shelter gear. After an hour or so, the distant lightning faded away and the stars came winking out again (huge sigh of relief), so I continued up the last 400 vertical feet to the summit, poles in one hand, carrying my sleeping gear (inflated ground pad and sleeping bag inside a zipped bivouac sack) with the other arm as if it were all a giant surfboard. I’m sure I looked ridiculous–glad it was dark. Encumbered thus, scrambling over the rocks on the last few feet to the summit was Looney Tunes comical.
I finally arrived at the summit and setup the feather bed at 1:15a.m. and dozed a bit. I started photographing around 5a.m. (sunrise at 5:41a.m.) and began the descent at 6:40a.m.
I was back relaxing at the trailhead by 11:15a.m.
Total time on the trail: 17 hours and 15 minutes. For a true travel time estimate, you could subtract out the bivy and photo op time making it more like a 12-hour trip trailhead to trailhead. That includes the bushwhacking to find a creek crossing in Horn Creek Basin and climbing the alternate ridge route up toward Point 13,598. Once the summer trail is completely clear of snow and the creek becomes easy to cross, you might even cut a couple of hours off of that.
Weather Conditions:
Very warm in the valleys and about 74 degrees at 6p.m. at the trailhead (10,000′). Even on the summit, judging by the snow conditions, I don’t think the temps got below 30-32 degrees–so the snow will be melting fast.
The biggest scare was the distant thunderstorm that started winking at me from a couple of horizons over. Any lightning anywhere gives me a scare when up high on a peak. I was well above treeline and had already crossed some very rocky terrain and a few snow slopes in the dark, so a quick retreat would have been difficult had the storm moved my way. I paused periodically for long intervals to judge the storm’s movement and it seemed to be moving to the east well south of me. Phew! A couple of associated lines of low clouds, though, swept through with some trace rain (thus my first stop to set up shelter).
By morning, all was cleared out with just various cloud banks remaining on the horizons. Unfortunately, one of those cloud banks blocked the sunrise from lighting up the undersides of the remaining clouds–one of my favorite photographic scenarios.
Trail Conditions:
The road to the trailhead is dry and easily passable in your mother’s 1969 Chevy Impala, even if you have plastic-covered seats.
The first mile and a half of the walking trail–up to the second bridge–is a lovely hobbit affair of Colorado forest hiking. It would be a fun stroll with a significant other even if you aren’t chasing a 14er. It’s grade is generally easy and at times you walk right next to the raging torrent that is North Cottonwood Creek. Beautiful.
Once across the second bridge, you turn and start the climb into Horn Fork Basin. Maybe a mile past the bridge I started seeing the first patches of snow across the trail (no worries–it is packed and easily walk-able). In several places the wet weather and the winds had left behind fallen trees that required creative short detours.
As you approach the treeline-tundra boundary, and a small, forested, hump loaded with the last good campsites (at around 11,600′), the trail has several splits–stay right at both to avoid wandering aimlessly among the campsites or into the willows by the creek. The main trail will eventually bring you easily through the willows and to the official creek crossing–not a problem in low water but, in current conditions, will have you bushwhacking up the east bank looking for a good place to jump across. If you like risks, you’ll likely find a crossing point within a few hundred yards. I went up a lot farther (through willows and across slushy snowbanks–ugh) just to be sure. Another option for the crossing is to bring some wading shoes and leave them at the creek for your return. Bring an extra pair of dry socks in any case!
Horn Fork Basin, above the trees, was still holding a fair amount of mashed potato snow, but a lot could be avoided and the summer trail was visible for many sections. The switchbacks leading up the rocky slope to the “shoulder” at 13,000′ were well-constructed–a big thanks to the Inca stone engineers at the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative (CFI)!
Once on the shoulder, in current conditions anyway, you will be faced with the second crux of the hike (the first being the Horn Fork Creek crossing). You can follow the general route of the summer trail across the snow in the basin, or you can climb the mostly snow-free ridge toward Point 13,598. I chose the latter, even though it was getting dark and the half Moon, hidden behind a thin film of cloud, was not helping as much as I would have liked. I absolutely didn’t want to flounder around in post-hole hell across that snowy basin and every snow patch I had had to cross up until then convinced me the snow would indeed be very, very soft.
I was able to climb up the Point 13,598 ridge and gain the final Harvard summit ridge with little problem. It was just a bit slow going as there really was no trail and involved a fair amount of boulder-hopping. I think I crossed maybe three smaller snow fields up high, all with previous boot tracks. On these, only on a very rare occasion did I punch through to knee or hip (surprise!)
The ridge between Point 13,598 and Harvard is actually quite spectacular–some nice drop-offs to the west–and a nice alternative to the summer trail that simply goes direct from the “shoulder” up to Harvard’s final south slope. I was surprised at how rocky the ridge was in places, and the final few feet to Harvard’s summit actually required a bit of fun, easy scrambling on solid rock.
Harvard’s summit has to rate as one of the coziest–a small nest of granite boulders marks the high point and the views up and down the Sawatch, and even well out to the northeast to the Elk Range, are standard Colorado stunning.
Photography Issues:
–Forgot my waterproof pack cover yet again. Not good when you have lenses in your outside pack pockets. Need to put that cover in my pack right now!
–Not every 14er sunrise is spectacular. Today, for instance, except for a few fleeting minutes, the sun was blocked as it climbed above the eastern horizon. Sometimes you put in a lot of effort and things just don’t pan out as spectacularly as you had hoped. That’s life–and that’s photography.
Unusual Events/Comments:
–Only waterproof boots and hiking poles needed now. Snowshoes and microspikes would be a waste of time. (But, bring extra socks!)
–Saw a total of nine folks on the mountain during the whole trip–all during the return. From sunset Tuesday until I was headed back down the next day, I was alone with my thoughts on the peak.
–As I was descending from the summit, I watched three guys take the direct route across the snow basin from the “shoulder”. They were across by 7:30a.m. or so but shouted up to me that the snow was already pretty soft (I saw one do a hip post-hole at one point). Based on their intel, I descended via my ascent route (the ridge option) rather than risk extensive post-holing.
–I hadn’t planned on sleeping on top of Harvard..the peak just drew me upward. Right at the summit I was able to make a nest on some rocks, but the inflatable ground pad was indispensable in making said nest into something reasonably comfortable.
–The marmots and pikas are out in full, fat, furry, force. I also heard a band of coyotes yelp excitedly during the night. I am always surprised at how high they roam. And speaking of high-roamers…on the summit, there were mountain goat tracks–fresh–and the rockfall I heard off on the night-shrouded slope was probably caused by them as they traversed away from the invading human. The flowers are also beginning to pop up in the tundra–this promises to be a great year with all the moisture we have had lately. Lots of life up high these days.
–Alas, my SPOT Gen 3 GPS tracker somehow “detached itself” from my pack and is lost and alone somewhere in Horn Fork Basin, possibly not too far above the stream crossing. The last lat/long I had for it was 38.90435 and -106.31238. The picture, “Half Moon Over Mt. Yale”, I think is right about there, too. If you find it, it is yours as I now have a replacement unit. You’ll need a subscription to get it to work, though. Contact me and I’ll see if I can remove it from my account and assign to yours if you actually do locate the thing and want to use it. All this assumes some marmot hasn’t already decorated her den with the weird, colorful object.
—Colorado 14er Senior Challenge summit count: 33 of the basic list of 58 (p. xxiii in Gerry Roach’s 14er “Bible”, Colorado Fourteeners, 3rd Ed.); 39 of the long list of 73 (pp. 347-348, with South Wilson added, also in Roach’s “Bible”.
Selected Images:
The objective is in the distance just under the large, dark cloud. As to the creek, this is what you’ll need to cross–at least until the spring run-off starts to slow…
Sunset, night sinks over the landscape, and I decide it would be a good evening for a summit slumber party, so I continue up…
If only there had been more space between the horizon and those clouds–it would have made for some spectacular sunrise photographs. Those two dark humps on the right are the twin Buffalo Peaks…
The lights of Leadville twinkling in the distance to the northeast…
And Puny Bee-You-Nee (Buena Vista), to the southeast. The peak on the left is Mt. Columbia…
Waiting for the good light. Will the sun pop out? Note the super-comfy bivy site tucked into the rocks…
At sunrise, just a brief glimpse of the sun, until about 45 minutes later when it finally rose above the eastern cloud layers…
Harvard’s summit is one of the nicer ones. First light is finally reaching the Elks Range in the far distance. Now you can see the rocks I was sleeping on, just to the right of the highest inclined boulder–thank goodness for good air mattresses!…
Here is a view of your current options for getting from the “shoulder” up on to the final ridge of Harvard. Red marks the “ridge route” and the blue line is closer to the summer trail route…
The rest o’ the northern Sawatch gang…
The view south toward Mt. Yale and points and peaks beyond…
Looking east toward Buffalo Peaks, two oft-ignored 13ers…
A closer view of Bear Lake (icy still!), Point 13,598 (a nice scramble!), and the Harvard summit ridge…
Sunlight on the upper part of Harvard’s ridge…
Looking down on Harvard’s north ridge…
The only peaks in Colorado higher than Harvard–Elbert and Massive (Oxford in the foreground)…
A view of the looong Class 2 traverse over to Columbia…
Harvard’s summit holds up some beautiful granite boulders and slabs…
Looking back up at Harvard on the descent via the “ridge option”. Currently, you’ll have to cross maybe three such slushy snow fields…
Even though the Harvard-Columbia traverse can be done as a Class 2 route, it sure looks like there could be some good Class 4 and 5 climbing up there!…
A farewell to Mt. Harvard as I drop down into the trees. The horizontal line in the foreground just beyond the bushes is water flowing down the trail–there is a lot of that these days with the heavy spring run-off…
4 Comments
That looks so coooooool, say the man from the desert.
Much cooler than the desert this time of year, Jim! Maybe we do a canyon in the fall???
Great report Daniel. Your photography is superb and you are also a very good and entertaining writer. Quite an adventure, soloing like that. Thanks.
Thanks for visiting, Bill! I appreciate the comments. On some of the harder/scarier peaks I’ll be going with some mutual support, for sure.