So last weekend I climbed Blanca and Ellingwood solo. This was the fourth time I had attempted to climb these mountains, and I was starting to think that they were cursed. The first time, one of the climbing team got hypothermic on the way up and we had to retreat. The second time, I got a stress fracture in my foot early on in the hike and retreated. The third time I had car trouble and never even made it to the mountain. This time, however, I made it.

For starters, I drove my Tacoma considerably farther than I had driven previously. I was able to park at about 9,670' and only stopped there because there was a very attractive pull-out and I wasn't sure whether I would run into an impassable obstacle before the next one. After hiking the road further ahead, I found that I definitely could have driven as far as Jaws 1, and I marked the last pullout before this meter-high rock bench for future knowledge. Anyway, I made the hike up to Como Lake in very good time, and continued on to the next set of lakes, called Blue Lakes, which are just above treeline. As I arrived there, an afternoon storm set in and I started getting hailed on, so I set up my bivy next to the trail and hunkered down for the duration of the short storm.

Then came... the marmots. I made the mistake of urinating nearby, and it turns out that 1) marmots can smell urine from a mile away and 2) they love it. It seems that every marmot in the valley was instantly attracted to my campsite and they all wanted their chance to eat some of the dirt that I had peed in. This put them about 10' from my bivy sack and all my gear, and those that weren't eating piss-dirt decided to have a go at my bivy, ice axe leash, boots, and the seat of my pants (not kidding... one bit me in the butt while I was cooking dinner). I basically had to be constantly vigilant because at any given time, at least one marmot would be trying to eat something I owned. It made for a very irritating evening.

Anyway, after about 8:30 when it had gotten pretty dark, the marmots wandered off and went to bed, so I was able to go get some water from the nearby stream and go to sleep. When I got up at 4, the marmots were still absent, but I was worried that they would probably destroy all my stuff while I was climbing. I had two choices: carry everything with me (~50 pounds) to the summit and back, or stash my campsite in a tree. Marmots can't climb worth a damn, so I just put everything inside my bivy and tied it up in a tree. I was on trail by 5am just as it was getting light.

The hike took a long time because I had to cross some steep hard snow without crampons, which made for slow going. Also, the upper 1,500' or so was on loose talus, which means tall steps onto shifting boulders and sore hips. Anyway, I made it to the top and was the first person up for the day. I could see a pair of people just getting to the summit of Little Bear as I ate a sandwich, and I was eventually joined by two climbers from Boulder. The weather was perfect. It felt really good to finally have made it to this summit which had eluded me for so long. And, of course, the list-ticker in me was pleased; this is a triple county highpoint, the highpoint of the Sangre de Cristo mountains, the fifth-highest point in Colorado, and an ultra-prominent peak with over 5,000' of topographic prominence.

I made my way back down the summit ridge to the connecting saddle with Ellingwood. My legs were feeling a little shaky at this point, and the class 3 ridge seemed a bit much. So I dropped down below the cliffy upper ridge to Ellingwood and ascended the great snow slope that went all the way to the top. The snow was really steep, I'd estimate over 50 degrees in places, but it was getting soft in the morning sun so it was no problem with just an ice axe. The climbers from Boulder hadn't brought axes and didn't follow me to Ellingwood, so I had the summit to myself. I managed to fill my camera pocket entirely with snow when one of my footholds gave way and I slid a few feet, so I didn't get any pictures from the summit. I let my camera dry out on the way down. A trio of good, long glissades got me down to Crater Lake in short order. I actually caught up to the Boulder guys on the way down because I was able to take the direct route on snow at 20mph or so while they had to negotiate the loose talus the whole way down. I got back to camp at noon.

Much to my relief, the weather held off and the marmots couldn't reach my stuff in the tree. I took a break back at camp, purified some more water, and read some of Isaac Asimov's "The Naked Sun." I had the option of staying another night and climbing Little Bear in the morning, but I didn't relish the idea of fending off marmots for the next 8 hours and I was feeling pretty beat, so I packed up camp and headed out. I was at my truck by three.