11/29/03 – Peak X, X Prime, Peak Y, Peak Z & Zephyr – The Alphabetizer

10.55 miles, 4390 feet


Erin and I had a great time making the short hike up Peak X in January, and we really wanted to get back to the Kenosha Mountains' core. The Roaches' "Alphabetizer" sounded like a great way to get a good workout and help Erin continue to recuperate from a nasty virus she came down with after hiking Buffalo Peak. A side benefit to this hike is that it would push both Erin and I over the 50 alpine summits mark in 2003.

After signing in and seeing Jon Bradford's name on the wilderness register from the day before (Jon climbed Peak Z and Zephyr with his dogs), we started hiking at 8:30, with little evidence of the storm a week earlier at the Long Gulch Trailhead. Amidst the trees, there was maybe 2-3 inches of powder on the ground, nothing else. We took our time hiking Peak X, passing by familiar rock formations. I was tempted many times to climb extra formations and little summits along the way, but thank goodness I was feeling more hasty than playful, for any detours would have made the end of our day much more problematic. Something we missed in January was that the trail crosses the creek, thus we avoided the willows much more than last time. If Peak Y were your first goal, however, it would be best to stay to the right of the stream and the willows the whole way.

As we neared our first goal, we stumbled into the Kenosha Mountain bighorn sheep herd. There must have been 20-25 head, including a magnificent ram. We must have gotten too close for comfort, though, because they took off running soon after. They ran two abreast in a long line, down X's slopes, expertly through the willows, and up Y's southern shoulder in the blink of an eye. What fascinated me most, though, was the organization within their line. First led the youngest, then the yearlings, the females, the young rams, and the elder rams. Last was the alpha male, trotting and meandering at his own pace, but keeping only a moderate distance between himself and his herd, ever watchful. It was beautiful to watch them glide through their terrain.

With that distraction over, we continued our plod up X's slopes. We hadn't yet felt the wind, but as soon as we were within 200' of the summit, we were put down by remarkable gusts. It was a struggle to reach the summit, but we found adequate shelter behind the rocks before returning to the blustery conditions. The wind was far colder for the lack of sunshine that morning, but we fought on toward X Prime, our next goal. Walking headfirst into the winds, we descended Peak X's opposite slopes. X Prime has a wonderful southeast face, the top of which is also its summit. As we gawked at this face, we began to strategize for finding the true saddle between X and X Prime, hoping to take altimeter measurements to help figure out how much prominence X Prime has. Finding the lowpoint amidst willows on the broad connecting saddle isn't easy, so I wandered about, altimeter in hand, a good while before I was satisfied with my reading.

We made quick work of X Prime, but didn't read Roach's description correctly. We summitted X Prime's other two subsummits before realizing our error. With the sun now upon us and the winds having died down significantly, we warmed ourselves on X Prime's cozy summit. From my altimeter readings, X Prime has around 307' of prominence, but it's hard to know the accuracy of such measurements. After checking the time, and considering just how much work we had ahead of us, we knew we had to go! It was just past noon.

Returning to Peak X, we skipped the summit this time, and used X's southern shoulder, which just makes it over 12,000'. Then we wrapped around a corner to get back on to a reasonable path toward Peak Y. Y doesn't quite have the formations that Peak X does, but it has far more boulders and talus near its summit, with a few nice formations thrown into the mix. It's even enough talus to support a pika population – we heard their distinctive chirps on Peaks Y and Z. We went through a gash in the closest formation, and then we climbed on to Y's summit, constantly buffetted by the again intense winds. While Erin took some pictures, I climbed down on the lee side of Y's summit, and bumped into the bighorn herd again! This time, they didn't wait and just started towards Peak Z. I admired their fluid movement across the open tundra and rocks, this time with the impressive Peak Z as their backdrop. Z has a wicked spine that wraps all the way from its saddle with Peak Y to its summit. The herd of bighorn ran behind this spine near the saddle, and they kept out of sight for the rest of the day. I pointed out to Erin the excellent view of The Castle and Green Mountain that Peak Y affords. We never discounted our end goal, though. Erin and I knew we still had two more summits to go, and the sun was already signaling its early exit with long shadows at 2:00 p.m.

Having dispatched with its talus slopes and climbed through a clever notch to reach its spiny crest, we were soon atop Peak Z. It's fun to climb the summit boulder, especially when you're getting tossed by the wind. We both liked the boulder for one other reason, too. It made for excellent shelter from the winds that day, and we scarfed down the rest of our food in relative comfort. Once you're on Peak Z, Windy Peak blocks your view of The Castle, but Pikes looms large, making for a great visual companion to the Lost Creek monarch, Bison Peak, which appears just below from this perspective. Zephyr, our last goal of the day, was before us.

We never found it reasonable to connect from one Kenosha to the next via the highest saddle, instead preferring easier terrain over our desire to limit our elevation gain. This was clearly the case between Z and Zephyr, with thick trees and rock formations blocking any direct path along the saddle. Zephyr hurt after all the ups and downs of the day, and the winds were their most furious. I declare that Zephyr, which means a gentle breeze, is misnamed ( ;D ). Erin and I were both getting picked up and pushed around, while we struggled to determine Zephyr's summit. Afterward we wasted no time on Zephyr, beginning our descent immediately. It was necessary to lean into the wind while we descended, Erin taking a more serious tilt than I did. After descending around 500', the wind finally relented, and we stopped to take in the view of our remaining crux: the bushwhack to the Colorado Trail and the North Fork of Lost Creek's headwaters. Though we were expecting a bushwhack, the Roaches don't even mention it as such, so we thought that our fight with the vegetation would be a moderate one. To be honest, the trees aren't all that thick, the deadfall not that abundant, and the willows usually avoidable – if you know what you're doing.

We reached about 10,800' on Zephyr's slopes, and we started keeping an eye open for the Colorado Trail. Well, we kept our eyes a little too open, finding and following a game trail that was skirting the willows at the edge of the park. We kept on skirting, and we found ourselves facing another willow-whack. We fought through that and then another and another. It was getting really late, and we still hadn't found the Colorado Trail. Starting to get worried... But then, moron, look at your altimeter! Indeed, we had gained a lot of elevation since starting to look for the Colorado Trail, and we were a full 200' above where the trail was supposed to be. With renewed resolve, we bashed through the willows head on, trying to get to a small wooded area. After reaching these trees, we were able to start descending again, and before long I was calling to Erin to tell her we had found the now obvious trail. It was 4:30, and the day was waning fast. It was great to be on the trail, though, and we were making great time again. The climb to the pass was almost unnoticably gentle, and then we started the 800' descent back to the trailhead, sliding on the snow for all its worth, just to gain that little bit of extra speed. It was worth it, because it was entirely dark when we reached Erin's 4Runner. We hadn't the foresight to bring along our headlamps, so returning to the car before dark (or at dark, as it were) was critical. We had no desire to inspect the grounds before us, searching for footprints, and we only barely made it back before this would have become necessary. We've now made it a rule to always carry headlamps during these short winter days. You just never know when you'll need them.

Lost Creek is an exceptional winter playground. Yes, the snows weren't all that deep this past week, but it's tough not to find something to love in the heart of this incredible, nearby expanse.