NO TURNING BACK - MOUNT IDA & CHIEF CHELEY PEAK

Hike date: June 18, 2010 Trailhead: Milner Pass, elevation 10,759 feet; Highest elevation on the hike: 12,889 feet Total trip distance: About 11 miles. Weather/trail conditions: Deep snow below timberline near Milner Pass. Primarily snow-free along the route above timberline to Ida and Chief Cheley summits. Route: Headed southeast uphill toward "Point 11,881", regaining the trail above timberline about 1.5 miles from the trailhead. Followed the standard trail toward Ida to its end and continued along the Continental Divide to the summit of Ida. From Ida, descended directly down the ridge to the saddle below Chief Cheley and continued to that summit. After regaining the Ida summit, followed the trail back out to Milner Pass.

At 6:00AM on June 18, 2010 I stepped in to the cool summer morning air at RMNP's Milner Pass parking lot. After gathering my gear, I headed for the trailhead on the south end of Poudre Lake, and passed the sign pointing the way toward Mount Ida. Just five steps past the sign, the trail disappeared in to a giant snowbank, with no footprints or path visible. It was the fastest I had ever seen a trail disappear in the summer. The only thing in front of me was a steep hillside full of deep snow. This was an inauspicious start. I decided immediately to abandon hope of following the trail and simply head up the ridge, around the rock towers above me, and head straight for timberline. After ascending the first steep snowbank and gaining about forty feet, I paused and felt my heart pounding in my chest. I had been hiking for ninety seconds and already my only thought was: "This is nuts....I'm turning around and going somewhere easier."

So much for summer trail conditions...

Never Summer Range

I had a mental battle for several moments before deciding to continue upward. Snowbank after snowbank welcomed me, and nearly every other step sent me postholing through with one or both legs buried to my thighs. It was exhausting and frustrating, I had not expected these conditions. While I was at least wearing gaiters for the snow, I really needed snowshoes here. However, this strategy did have the benefit of allowing me to gain elevation quickly. Heading basically straight uphill, I was gaining ground very efficiently even if the snow did not always hold my weight. With each pause for breath, I was able to see an increasingly expanding view of the Never Summer Mountains to the west, basking in cool morning sunshine.

Mount Richthofen and Static Peak

View atop a long snowfield

Basking in the sun

Never Summer Mountains

After a challenging start to the hike, I was rapidly approaching timberline and the snow was starting to become patchy. I was now a considerable distance north of the main trail, and also much higher than I needed to be. I aimed for the low point on the ridge to my east, near Point 11,881'. As I labored to gain the ridge, the terrain became free of snow, and I left the trees behind. I topped out above 11,800' to more great views, a bone-chilling blast of wind, and a discouraging look at how far down I now had to hike to regain the trail.

Looking west from a snow-covered ridge

Specimen Mountain

Mount Richthofen from near timberline

Regaining the trail on the tundra

It was clear now that my alternate route had necessitated several hundred feet of "unnecessary" elevation gain. While it had allowed me to get above the snow quickly and without extra distance, I had to go much higher than the trail route to get over the ridge, now leaving me overlooking the trail well below me. But as I now headed downhill for the first time, my legs welcomed the change in the slope of the terrain. I regained the trail well above timberline, where the landscape was snow-free but summer wildflowers had yet to bloom. The shelter of the trees that had protected me earlier in the morning was now no help as an icy, relentless wind tore across the tundra from the south. I pressed on along the relatively level trail, basically following the Continental Divide southeast toward Mount Ida. I still had several miles to hike in to a stiff wind to reach the summit.

Trail along the divide

The long path across the tundra

Snowfield fighting gravity

Jagged rocks at the edge of the ridge

The wind now became my principal enemy. I had packed extra clothes and a rain jacket, but the wind was so cold on my face that it felt more like January than June. With air temperatures barely in the 50's and a wind gusting well above 40 miles per hour, the wind chill was definitely below freezing. The wind was blowing with enough force that it would occasionally knock me off balance, and when I took my jacket hood down for a moment, the wind blew the stocking cap off my head. The weather was otherwise cooperative, so I proceeded toward Ida under cloudless skies. Even the cold weather was better than the alternatives, and I found it a novelty that in mid-June I was struggling to keep from freezing. So I kept proceeding toward Ida throughout the morning, as the trail began to fade to a small path, and eventually disappeared for good near the summit. From here, my tundra walk began and I soon crested the final rocky ridge at 9:45AM and stood atop Ida's 12,889' summit. It was just my second visit ever to this summit, and the early summer snow-covered panorama was spectacular.

View north toward the Mummy Range

Summit of Mount Ida - 12,889'

Once on Ida, I defaulted to my normal ritual of taking an array of pictures before sitting down for a snack and some water. Normally I would have been content to hang out at the summit for up to an hour, but I had other goals for the day that led me onward along the Divide.

Nakai Peak, Big Meadows, and beyond

View south from Ida

Chiefs Head and Taylor from Ida

Looking southeast over Chief Cheley

In the previous months, I had daydreamed and planned for countless hours about where I would go for my first RMNP hike of the year. I had based the decision to pick this hike primarily on my desire to continue past Ida to the top of Chief Cheley Peak. But, I had not anticipated the early battles in the snow, and the relentless cold wind was taking on a toll on me as well. So, as I peered over the edge of Ida to the southeast toward Chief Cheley Peak, the steep little scramble might as well have been the Grand Canyon. "Okay, this time I'm really turning around." I sat down on the rocks atop Ida and took a few deep breaths. The longer I pondered turning back, the more I wanted to press on. There was no threat of thunderstorms; the weather window was wide open. I was tired but not enough to turn back yet. I did not want to face the disappointment of coming up short of my goal. I stood up and took a second look to the southeast to reassess the route. Chief Cheley seemed so close. While the first few steps off of Ida looked intimidating, the rest of the route appeared pretty straightforward. I sat down again and took in a few more deep breaths. I walked around Ida's summit a third time, taking more pictures while weighing the options in my mind. The lure of a new summit made its usual strong case. When you dream for months of hiking to a summit, how can you make yourself turn back this close? I put on my backpack and headed toward Chief Cheley Peak.

Chief Cheley from the saddle below Ida

Looking toward Ida from Chief Cheley

The top six feet of 12,804' Chief Cheley Peak

Overlooking the Gorge Lakes

I started down from Ida with great care. Although the route is not classified as technical, it is tricky at the top. The route seemed nearly vertical as I picked my way down through a boulder field, testing each rock for wobbliness before putting my weight on it. With each minute, though, the grade lessened and eventually boulders gave way to more open tundra. Although this route did not prove overly challenging, I knew that I had done it the easy way (down), and the haunting thought of having to regain this ground the hard way (up) would stay with me for the next hour. Once at the saddle between the two summits, it was a fairly easy boulder-hop to the top of Chief Cheley. Wind gusts and loose rocks combined to make balancing an occasional challenge, but with patience from my increasingly tiring body, I was at the top by 11:00AM, exactly five hours from when I started the hike. I did one last scramble and bear-hugged the highest of Chief Cheley's summit boulders, overwhelmed by the inspiration uniquely offered on top of a mountain.

Cornices on the Continental Divide

Snowdrift on Chief Cheley's summit

Summit boulders and Mount Ida

View west to the Never Summers

Extra effort always has a way of enhancing a view, and today was no exception as I took in the majesty from Chief Cheley's summit. Snow still blanketed the terrain in all directions, most dramatically straight below where the Gorge Lakes were still buried in winter's cloak. Highest Lake was completely invisible below a massive snowfield; not even its shores were visible. Other nearby lakes like Azure Lake and Julian Lake revealed their shorelines through the snow, but remained frozen in a chilly slumber, still weeks of summer sunshine away from melting through the blanket and finally turning from white to blue.

Overlooking still-frozen Julian Lake

Mount Ida and Chief Cheley summit rocks

Mid-June snow blanket on the Gorge Lakes

Deep snow on the summit

Even though I had reached my destination for the day and I was ready to head back to the trailhead, the toughest hiking of the day was still in front of me. After descending to the saddle below Ida again, I now looked up at about 550 feet towering overhead, less than 1/4 mile away. After already hiking up and down two summits, this one took its toll. I could only manage five to ten steps between breaks, leaning over out of the raging wind to catch my breath. I slowly picked my way to the top of Ida, finally negotiating the boulder-strewn route at the very top that more resembled scaling a rocky ladder. As I reached the summit, I did so with the amusing realization I had just climbed Ida twice in one morning by two different routes!

Jagged rocks along the descent

Steep terrain on the southeast side of Ida

Longs and Pagoda from Ida

Gorge Lakes from Ida's summit

I found a large boulder and plopped down on its downwind side, grateful for a brief respite from the wind, and utterly out of breath. I grabbed a brief snack and some water, but I had no appetite and was more in the mood for a long nap. I fought off this urge, although the mountain assisted by offering no soft place to rest. Soon I was on the long journey back toward Milner Pass, pleased with the knowledge that no more summits stood in my way. As the path that became the trail began to re-emerge from the tundra, I was back on course and heading quickly downhill. For the first time today, the wind was at my back and gave me a much-needed boost. On my return trip, the otherwise lifeless landscape revealed a distant view of three bighorn sheep on the ridge to my north. I stopped cold and remained motionless, but they had already headed down the ridge to a safer distance at the first sight of me. Still it was enough for the sheep to win the animal sighting count for the hike, where the final total was three bighorns, one marmot, one pika, and zero humans.

Bighorn Sheep

Rock formations below Ida

Looking back toward Ida

The trail toward Milner Pass

For the last few miles of the hike, I got in to a rhythm and kept a good pace despite my tired state. Aided by a tailwind and the gorgeous scenery around me, I passed the gentle ups and downs of the long path across the tundra. Just above timberline, the afternoon sunshine finally got warm enough for me to take off my jacket for the first time all day. Once back in the trees, I sledded down several snowfields and quickly reached the Milner Pass area, finally completing the hike. My immediate reaction upon returning to the parking lot was one of relief, as my exhaustion had mounted on the long hike back. But having finally finished the hike, I was free to ponder the great moments I had experienced on this day, and remember the wonderful scenery on the Continental Divide. But the enduring emotion I took home from this hike was gratitude for the opportunity I was given to keep pressing on all the way to the top of Chief Cheley Peak.

Photos and text by Mike Amfahr, Copyright 2010

Click here for the Hiking Center

Click here to return to the Trail Journal menu page

All users must accept the terms of use of this site. All information on this page conforms to terms of use. All photographs and images are property of Mike Amfahr (unless otherwise noted) and are protected by copyright laws.