Ellingwood Point

After backpacking with the Scouts the previous weekend, I went on my own backpacking trip. The goal is Ellingwood Point (at 14,042' the exact same height as Mt. Lindsey from two weeks ago). The normal route is via Lake Como, which is accessed via a popular, but nasty 4WD road. The road is so challenging that only modified Jeeps are recommended—even ATVs have difficulty. I had no desire to hike through the exhaust of four-wheelers so instead of a 17 mile trip through Lake Como, I decided to try the route via Zapata Lake, which also happens to be five miles shorter.

The first problem was getting out of town. Traffic at one point was so bad that it took an hour to go ten miles on I-25. The congestion was through a construction zone, but they weren't even working, and the backup was not due to an accident. I finally got to the Great Sand Dunes and turned off for Zapata Falls. A popular tourist attraction, the short half-mile hike to the falls includes the last several hundred feet hiking in the river similar to one of the popular trails in Zion National Park in Utah.

Just before the falls, the trail branches off to go the five miles up to Zapata Lake. Once on that trail the foot traffic dropped to nothing. Literally. In the next three miles I saw only three groups of hikers coming back down. I was running behind schedule due to the horrendous traffic and hadn't yet reached the lake as the sun was setting. I was searching for anything that even gave a hint of being slightly level for my tent when I found a campsite at the creek crossing about a mile before the lake. I had hiked 3.5 miles and 2500' of climb in 3.5 hours with a full pack. That's slow, but a good pace for me. My campsite choice turned out to be a great spot as the lake is above treeline (no way to hang a bear bag) and no good campsites were available back at treeline anyway.

I started hiking at dawn and got to the lake early. Just as I took a picture trying to capture Ellingwood Point reflected off the lake I heard a clatter and saw a herd of bighorn sheep come up to the lake from the other side. They decided to take the trail, so I wandered around the lake the other way. As I came around a large rock I came face-to-face with a young bighorn sheep that was out ahead. Upon seeing me, he then decided to reverse course and rejoin the herd.

Past the lake at the end of the valley I got to the base of the talus slope below the couloir. (French: "passage" or "corridor" A narrow gully with a steep gradient in mountainous terrain. ) The best word would be 'intimidating.' It's nine-hundred feet up in only three tenths of a mile. Per the route description, I needed to aim for the higher notch on the right as the lower one on the left is steeper, more dangerous, and ends in a vertical wall (not to mention it's labeled with a skull and crossbones). The talus rock below the couloir is pretty stable, but once in the couloir it was pretty loose.

Climbing up to the notch only took 75 minutes. From here it's just 1100 feet of climb and a little over half a mile to the summit. So much for appearances—two hours later I made it to the top of Ellingwood Point. On the summit I finally met the first person I had seen all day. On most hikes I might be traveling by myself, but usually several groups are hiking both in front and behind me. This was one hike where no one else was around.

While on top, two more climbers reached the summit too, then left to do the traverse over to Blanca Peak and return to Lake Como. The other climber had done the same route as me an hour earlier and had just completed traversing over to Blanca and back and was now ready to start his descent back down. I had done Blanca 32 years ago in the snow of early June with Greg Molinar and wasn't looking to summit two peaks today. We agreed to descend the ridge and couloir together to keep an eye on each other for safety.

Descending with a partner was nice because as I was about halfway down the ridge I stepped on a suitcase-sized rock that flipped over and landed on the back of my leg, knocking me forward and pinning me down. Luckily I was able to reach back and push the rock off without assistance. The gaiters my mom made for me decades ago proved their continued use as I didn't even get a scratch, the only damage being to my nerves. We made it down the rest of the ridge and to the bottom of the couloir without further incident.

Back at my campsite eight hours (and 5.25 miles) after I left, I settled down for lunch and a nap. After my rest break, I still needed to pack up and backpack another 3.5 miles back to the trailhead and drive four hours to get home. I only saw two couples who day-hiked up to the lake the rest of the day.

(For those that noted the mention of a "scary list"—Little Bear Peak has a section called the hourglass, which consists of class 4 rock climbing up through a couloir that narrows and funnels all the rockfall from above directly at the climbers in the couloir. It is like trying to go up an hourglass while the sand is draining out.)

Pictures

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