Spearhead

Spearhead

At 1:00 AM I rolled into Denver after a rather hedonistic visit to Seattle.  Even though I was in the Pike’s Peak long term parking lot at the Denver International Airport it felt like home being in the van.  Since I was picking my buddy Greg up early in the morning I figured I would stay in the airport parking lot for the night.

While making breakfast the next morning one of the parking lot employees stopped in to investigate.  Rather then reporting me to the authorities he accepted a cup of coffee and a quick chat.  Other then bouncing my roof top storage box off the Alaskan Airlines sign in the arrivals area (I forget how tall the van is at times) the pick up went smoothly.  There was no damage to the Vansion, or the Alaskan Airlines sign, but it did generate a bit of excitement with the traffic authorities.  I am sure they will recover.  

It was great to have Greg on board.  Now climbing, scrambling, and all forms of mountain buffoonery could commence.  A quick shop in Boulder was followed by a hike into Lumpy’s Ridge outside of Estes Park.  We both needed an acclimation climb.  Greg needed to get used to functioning above 300 feet of sea level and I needed to shake out the cobwebs.  I hadn’t lead any routes that required “trad" gear since I busted my ankle on Cannon Cliff last September.

After our scouting mission we found a nice parking lot to pirate camp for the evening.  As we were prepping the van to go to bed an American Pit Bull came charging into our world to figure out who we were and why we in her owner’s lot.  Of course she was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass.  The owner of the dog, and the lot, arrived next.  He had all kinds of questions about the van, where we were from, and then offered us his parking lot for the evening.  He was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass as well.

Lumpy Cruiser...

On Friday we climbed a route called the White Whale.  The route was in the shade, had great rock, and was a classic cruiser.  If it were not for the thunder storm that rolled in at 11:00 AM it would have been a completely stress free climb.  The thunder created a small sense of urgency, but not enough to stop climbing - we figured it was easier to finish the route and walk off rather then rap.  We were also fortunate enough to meet a local climber that gave us some great advise on where we could camp for the night outside of Estes Park.  

Descending from the thunder...

After a great morning of climbing we headed into town to sort out emails, food, and scout out some free camping.  The spot we found was amazing.  It was high above town facing west on a US Forestry road.   Burritos and beer complimented the sunset as it rolled in the side door or the van…

Morning came early.  A speedy breakfast in the Glacier Gorge Parking Lot kicked off a six mile ascent to the base of Spearhead which was a bit of a shit show.  Not sure why we were surprised by the crowd.  It was a Saturday morning on an amazing (moderate) climb only hours from Denver.  As awesome as the Front Range is, the crowds can be challenge.  At first glance we counted over twenty climbers, but it turned out that there were only four parties in front of us that we could see.  Two long bottle-necks, one flying rock, and some painfully slow parties distracted, but could not dull, the shine of Spearhead.

Crappy Views from the North side of Spearhead

Other then the first two and the last two last pitches, the climbing was a scramble.  The last two pitches offered the most interesting climbing.  The “crux” was “a left facing dihedral that hangs over the edge of the northeast face”.  It was beautiful, airy and intimidating pitch that was far easier then it looked.  The next pitch was a grovel that really stumped the parties in front of us.  They went around the crux pitch, but had no choice but to climb through the grovel pitch.  We could hear confusion, dry heaving, and crying.  It took the party above us over an hour to get through it.  Greg climbed it quickly.  It was an awkward “wriggle” up through a left facing corner.  I did get stuck for a minute - it's tough being a fat kid with a backpack some days…

The top out looked like a collapsed pile of dominos.  Stepping onto the overhanging summit was an act of faith.  It felt like we were walking onto a Jenga pile in which the last piece might have been pulled.  Of course the summit was solid and it would take far more then the two of us to knock it over.  

The long descent down a nasty scree field, and the six mile hike from the base of the climb could enhance the taste of any beer.  But we had a long drive ahead of us.  We had to be in Las Vegas in a little over 24 hours to pick up three more of our friends.  So the beer would have to wait…  

The end of the long, steep, scree field...

The view from the summit...