Occasionally Duncan and I will catch a wild hair and decide, "Let's go climb a mountain." It started out with small hills and rock formations near school, but we've long since graduated to fourteeners (especially after we discovered that the shorter hills tend to house a lot of radio transmission equipment that "May Cause Nausea and Vomiting" at close range). To inaugurate our super-senior year we made such a trip to Pyramid Peak.

On Friday night we loaded up the car with our packs, cameras, and some hiker-friendly food and water and headed out for the Elk Range near Aspen and Snowmass via Independence Pass. Sometime late that evening we pulled into the park and found an empty parking spot near the Maroon Lake Trailhead. Since the car was small, and Duncan is very tall, he elected to sleep next to the car in his sleeping bag while I slept sitting up in the passenger seat. In the morning Duncan was rudely awakened when a park ranger nudged his head with his boot and tersely explained that overnight campers should sleep in their cars, not in the parking lot. After that we grabbed our gear and headed onto the trail towards the Maroon Bells and Pyramid Peak.

Before we could actually start up toward the peak we had to traverse through a small park. On our way through we came across a couple of signs talking about "The Deadly Bells" and how perilous climbing the Maroon Bells and their neighbor Pyramid Peak could be. In true Duncan and Charlie form we looked at one another after reading the signs and said, "We'll be fiiiine." The other thing we passed through on the way to the Pyramid trail was a beautiful Aspen grove (near Aspen, CO--go figure). Once out of the woods we got our bearings and made for the bottom of the talus field that was the beginning of the Pyramid trail.

It turned out that the trail that we were taking up the talus field to the amphitheatre was newly "constructed" by the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative to eliminate confusion and the multiple trails leading to the peak, so we had a few obstacles to overcome on the as yet unfinished portions of the trail. By the time we reached the top of the talus field the sun was starting to get up into the sky and we were able to see the summit from inside the amphitheatre. The little bit of snow left in the amphitheatre from last season proved to be the best way up and so after a lot of slipping and sliding Duncan and I got into the upper basin in the amphitheatre and decided that maybe we should have breakfast.

While we were eating a Marten saw us from about 150 feet away and decided to come check us out. He didn't seem to be looking for food or anything because he kept his distance and for the most part just skampered around. He did come close enough to get some neat pictures though. After the Marten Interlude we packed up (leaving not a crumb behind) and started on the climb again (I would say trail, but at this point there really isn't a trail). We crossed to the eastern side of the amphitheatre, stopping to listen to the running water under the rocks we walked on and to look at a very oddly fractured boulder in the middle of the amphitheatre. We had reached the Wall.

The Wall is exactly what it sounds like--a wall. It's not a sheer wall and we didn't have to use any ropes, but we did wish we had helmets (I guess that sign was right). Since we didn't have helmets we decided to give each other some room and climb up one after another. It's a 1000-ft. elevation gain from the amphitheatre to the top of the Wall, with the Maroon Bells looming behind the whole way. The hardest part about the Wall is negotiating the loose rock underfoot and keeping yourself from falling all the way to the bottom. The climb is rated Class 3 because although you can walk, you should probably use your hands for stabilizing yourself. Duncan and I definitely did. After the grueling scrabble we reached the saddle on the northeast ridge and we were able to see the back side of the peak and the route we were going to be taking (roughly).

After traversing a little ways across the saddle we came to a large slab that looked like it would make for some good pictures--and it did. The drop was minimal, but it was still more fun to climb across it laterally rather than walk down into the trough and then back up again. After that we came to a sloping scree chute we weren't sure about, so we followed our rule of thumb: when in doubt, go up. Duncan decided to check it out and when he got to the top of the chute he quickly turned around loudly decrying (very colorfully) taking that route. Curious, I followed him to find out why. Needless to say, we found an exception to our rule of thumb and were forced to climb down the chute and pick up the route to the summit there.

Again, at this point there is no real trail, and sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. That particular spot was fun, but there was no doubt about what would happen if you somehow missed. After this there was a small ledge traverse that we had to negotiate--again, no wondering here about the consequences. After that we had to make our way up the back side of the peak and this is where some real up-climbing began. This part of the route is rated Class 4 because although you can walk laterally, to go up really requires vertical climbing in short spurts.

During the final push to the summit there weren't a whole lot of opportunities to pull out the camera and take a picture. At the summit though, there was nothing to do BUT take pictures. We could see the saddle on the northeast ridge from the summit. And of course all of the surrounding mountains were easy to spot, like the Bells, Capitol Peak, and the others. The panoramic photo that I compiled from my pictures on the summit really gives a good idea what the view from the top looks like. We took a few moments to take some superhero pictures with the Bells and Capitol in the background. The ledge that we found to sit on overlooked a drop of at least 500 feet (neither of us was brave enough to risk our camera to take the picture, but we were perfectly willing to risk ourselves).

It was not a completely clear day and so after a quick snack on the top we decided to start heading down. I don't think I'm alone in my opinion, but I consider down-climbing to be a lot more dangerous and nerve-wracking than up-climbing. Making our way back to the saddle was as much fun as coming out from the saddle, but we were still careful to watch our step. From the saddle we were able to see a heavy rain headed our direction, so we went down the wall as quick as we could so we could outrun the storm. We made it out of the amphitheatre just as the lightning started to hit and made our way back to Maroon Lake and our car as the rain did its work and we got a free shower. Now THAT was an adventure.

(Stay tuned for a Maroon Peaks adventure--we may be trying this one during the winter of 2006-2007)

If you're interested in attempting to climb Pyramid Peak (and hopefully succeeding) I would recommend this guide from 14ers.com as a good starting point. For more detailed maps and route descriptions I would recommend picking up Gerry Roach's Colorado's Fourteeners guide, as well as the companion map package. It has served Duncan and I well on these trips.