Trek to Crested Butte: Tribute

FACT: Crested Butte, a fantastic ski resort in its own right, is located a mere 11 miles from Aspen as the crow flies.

FACT: The most direct route from Aspen to Crested Butte via automobile is a not-so-direct 3-hour drive.

FACT: A reasonbly fit human being, properly motivated, could conceivably walk from Aspen to Crested Butte as quickly as they could drive.

'Tis true. And this weekend, six Aspenites and their three dogs set out to prove it.

The hike from Aspen to Crested Butte is a time-honored tradition for residents of the Roaring Fork Valley. While the hike is grueling (gaining over 3,000 vertical feet over the 11 miles), it's by no means impossible.

The real trick, however, is in the timing. Do it too early in the fall, and you'll rob yourself of the brilliant gold, oranges, and reds of the changing leaves. Wait too long, and the snow starts to fly, and you can't risk the climb over West Maroon Pass, which tops out at 12,500 feet.

This year, the temperatures just started to dip below forty degrees at night ten days ago. This got the leaves to do whatever it is they do, and by Thursday, our landscape had transformed from a boring green in a vertiable explosion of color.

So Saturday morning, myself, Lauren, our pup Maci, and four friends -- along with dogs Murray and Kya -- drove up to Maroon Lake -- home of the most photographed mountains in the country, the Maroon Bells -- and started the long climb over to Crested Butte.

For the first three hours or so, we couldn't get Lauren's digital camera working, so we were forced to use the disposable. Those pictures are forthcoming. By the time we stopped for a well-deserved meal, roughly four miles and 1,000 vertical feet into our climb, I got the digital working, and starting making up for lost time.

Here's Natalie, Brian, Lori and Murray enjoying a meal of Uncrustables and fruit leather.

Backcountry skiing buddy Todd and I resting our weary backs.

My wife and I and a view of the West Maroon valley in the background. Lauren was amazing, lugging a 15+ pound pack on the hike. We needed to carry everything necessary for not only the hike, but the rest of the weekend in Crested Butte as well. Throw in the Maci gear (food, toys, etc...) and you've got a pretty heavy load to lug over those mountains.

The view back towards Aspen as we inched closer to Crested Butte.

A glimpse of those colors I mentioned. You've got your yellows, you greens, and even some white lingering on the upper slopes.

Kya and Maci leading the way. Maci basically followed her fellow labrador, hero and role model everywhere she went. Meanwhile, Murray, a shepard by design, stayed right alongside the human contingent to make sure everyone was OK.

Our first view of West Maroon pass. After four hours of climbing through trees that prohibited a clear vantage point of our destination, we emerged from the forest and were greeted by this. That large mountain in the distance is the pass, and the only way to get to Crested Butte is to go up and over it.

In this picture, you'll notice that the mountain "dips" in the middle of the photo. This is referred to as a ""saddle," and it was this saddle that would provide us our entryway to Crested Butte.

Maci. At seven months, she's tireless and all legs. She faced a lost of tests this weekend, and passed each one with flying colors.

Some views of the surrounding area.

Like I said....all legs.

As we made our final approach to West Maroon pass, we stopped to take in some food and snap some photos. Here's Natale and Lauren, with Kya and Maci distracted in the background.

The view back down the valley towards Aspen. It makes you feel very, very small.

The final push to the top of the pass was 1,200 feet of lung-busting, leg-burning labor. From the top, here's my fist shot of our destination, Crested Butte, which until now had seemed entirely out of reach.

The view back towards Aspen, now seven miles away.

The three dogs at the summit of the pass. Again, Maci right on Kya's ass. She was relentless, and it was a miracle Kya didn't snap and put Maci in her rightful place.

Brian and Lori snacking on the summit.

Another shot towards Crested Butte.

My girl on the summit. I swear she had that smile the entire hike.

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Come on...that's adorable and you know it!

I smell a Christmas Card!!!!

Murray never, ever leaves Brian's side. She's a big backcountry ski dog, and you can understand why when you witness his relentless loyalty up close and personal.

Which is more beautiful, the view or that smile? I'm going with the latter.

Another view towards Crested Butte. From the summit of the pass, it's four miles of rapid descending to the valley floor below.

Here's the congregation, growing weary but still determined.

The colors of fall.

From deep in the valley, a look back at the saddle we'd just summited.

Brian and Lori. Cool photo, isn't it?

Inching ever closer to Crested Butte.

Another of my favorite photos.

The two yellow Labs ceasing their hijinks just long enough to check in on their owners. They sure look guilty of something, don't they?

Our little girl, 10 miles in and still cruising.

The final descent towards the trailhead.

I just can't resist.

The dogs got so muddy, as we reconnected with the river, we thought we'd let them play so they'd clean off a bit. Otherwise the front desk folks at our hotel might think twice about allowing pets.

Neck deep in the West Maroon Creek.

Here they are, the weary warriors after 11 miles, 3000 feet of vertical climb, and nearly seven hours of hiking.

Lauren and I sent our Pathfinder with Lauren's friend, who was heading to Crested Butte on Saturday and offered to drop our car off at the trailhead. Unfortunately, she dropped the car off about a mile BEFORE the trailhead, scaring us to death when we had finally reached our destination only to find NO CAR.

A quick jaunt up the rode led us to the lost vehicle, however, and within minutes we were checking into our hotel in the Butte.

After a couple of celebratory beers, we headed into town, just in time to find the annual fall parade bearing down on us. Included in the festivities is a an abundance of chanting, a burning of the town "grump" and all sorts of other quasi-pagan stuff.

By ten, the group was dead on their feet, so back to the hotel room we went, only to find that to our surpise, our seven month old pup had NOT destroyed the place. Amazingn what seven hours of intense exercise can do for a dog's disposition.

We woke up today to rain, so we hopped in the car and drove the three-plus hours back to Aspen. Who knows, maybe next year, we'll hike back!

Backcountry Descent #7: Visitor from Denver

My good pal Booch drove up from Denver last Friday night to taste some of the backcountry goods Aspen has to offer. After a Friday evening BBQ with some of Lauren's co-workers, the alarm wen't off at 4:45 and we were on our way. Our sights were set on a bit of a backcounty "tour" on Indpendence Pass; I had read some guidebooks and studies some maps in order to link together some peaks so Booch got the most bang for his Aspen buck.
On our way to our first peak, West Geissler, which we had originally spotted from our Memorial Day summit of Blue Peak, Todd's dog Kya and I chillin' out waiting for the fellows.

THe narrow ridge on the way to the summit of West Geissler. Not the most flattering form.

From way across the Continental Divide, here's a view of Grizzly Peak, our summit the previous weekend (details in post below). Grizzly is the tall peak in the middle of the shot that stands out among the rest. Boy do I have some fond memories of that summit!

A view from the summit of West Geissler. Mountains as far as the eye can see.

Our route up West Geissler. By taking the East ridge, we gained access to the summit. From there we dropped in on the west side of the steep face, with the hopes that if we cut over hard enough at the bottom, we could link up to Middle Geissler and bag another peak.
It worked. We were able to access the east ridge of Middle Geissler, boot up to the summit, continue on down the ridge, and eventually make turns down a steep rib that provided silkly smooth snow.

Booch, coming from "relative" flat-land in Denver, performed admiraly, taking the 3,000 feet of climbing in stride and even making some nice turns for a guy who hasn't been on a snowboard since February.

Backcountry Descent #7: Shooting Grizzly on June 3

If you read the below posts, you already know we climbed and skied Blue Peak on Memorial Day. As we stood on the summit, taking in the views for miles and miles, one peak stood out from the rest.

(Click on pic to enlarge for killer view)

At the time, I had no idea what it was, but it looked supremely bad-ass. So I went home, started googling, and found out that what I was looking at was Grizzly Peak, a hard to reach summit 9 miles from the nearest major road. Standing at 13,988 feet, it's just short of official "fourteener" status, but it would still be far and away the most technical high-altitude climb and ski we'd attempted. But attempt it we would.

Saturday morning we were up at 4, climbing by 5:30. The approach was LONG and flat until we reached Grizzly Lake, set right at the bottom of Grizzly Chute, the ever so enticing patch of snow running the length of the right-hand side of the mountain in the picture above.

Once you reach the lake, the only way to the summit is to climb straight up the chute. Since it's a bit of a western exposure, it was still firm as we stripped off our skis and started to boot straight up. The chute averages 40 degrees, with a bulge that reaches 45, so it was a long, hard climb. Towards the top, I would catch my breath and then climb until exhaustion, only to look at my altimeter and find out I had climbed 20 vertical feet. It was seriously, seriously humbling.

We reached the summit shortly after 9 AM, and if we raised our poles above our head, we could just about reach the acclaimed "fourteener" status. The rest was easy. Point our skis over the cornice, drop into the chute, and make turns for 1,500 feet. Oh, and don't fall, because at 45 degrees, nothing's stopping you until you hit the lake!

Backcountry Ski Descent #6: Birthday at 13,711 Feet

Memorial Day. My brother and his family left on Sunday morning, so first thing Monday AM my buddy Todd and I shot up to Independence Pass to ski Blue Peak. The pass, which closes every year around Halloween, had opened three days prior, instantly giving access to miles and miles of backcountry skiing right from the car. After months of long, miserable approaches to reach tree line, we were really, really excited about starting the day at 11,400 feet.

After parking the car, we climbed straight up this gully to a shelf at 12,200 feet. From there, it was a long, gradual boot to the top of Blue Peak.

Here's Todd coming out of the gully and onto the shelf. The sun just starting to hit the eastern slopes of the nearby mountains.

The summit of Blue Peak is reached via an extremely narrow ridge. As Todd and I stood at 13,711 feet, the next living thing we say was this bad-ass canine, joined shortly thereafter by his owner.

Some views from the summit.

Looking west towards Lost Man pass. If you look closely in the lower left hand corner of the pic, you can make out the frozen outline of Lost Man lake. We would ski right over this lake two weeks later.

The view of Geissler #3 from the peak. This mountain will have a post of its own a bit later.

Geissler #2, just to the east of Geissler #3. Again, more to come on this.

The view of Linkins Peak and Linkins Lake from the peak of Blue. I thought I'd include this picture, since Lauren and I hiked to Linkins Lake as one of our first climbs in August. Here's a picture from the summer, for comparison's sake.

A wet slide on the east side of Brumley Peak. As you can see, this one ran all the way to the ground.

Another summit shot.

My favorite picture of the entire season. This is the view of Grizzly Peak, one of the harder to reach summits near Independence Pass. Again, this will have its own post.

After looking around in awe in every direction for what felt like an hour, we finally dropped in and made some turns down the South face. Good Times.

Look Who Came to Visit!

In the unlikeliest infiltration since the Muppets took Manhattan, the Fares clan (Mom, Dad, Freddy) made the 2,000 mile journey out to Aspen to visit their baby girl and favorite son-in-law (sorry Dave), and our pupppy Maci, to whom they're fairly indifferent.

We kept the Fares family fairly busy (say that five times fast), going from dusk til dawn pretty much every day. We toured Independence Pass, hiked the Maroon Bells, shopped in downtown Aspen, and watched Freddy consume a truly remarkable amount of hamburgers.

We were having some camera difficulties, so perhaps when the Fareseses email us some additional pictures, we'll post them for your enjoyment. I can assure you, however, even without corroborating photographic evidence, that a good time was had by all, and the Fareseses have a new appreciation for the stunning beauty that is Aspen in spring.

We even took the time to celebrate Maci's four-month birthday. Freddy, who developed an unforseen bond with the puppy during the course of his stay, was particularly exuberant throughout the festivities.

Nascar Meets the Mountains?

It's been an awful busy month for the Nitti clan. And sadly, we weren't able to tell you about in "real-time," as we've been dealt an inordinate amount of technical difficulties in the past few weeks. One destroyed cell phone, two damaged laptops, a broken camera, and a faulty modem have left us incommunicado.

Well that's all fixed now (aside from my laptop: still destroyed), so let's get everyone up to speed on the various goings on at the Nitti house.

My brother Dave, his wife Jackie, and child prodigies Luke and Grace made the trek all the way from Florida on May 23rd, only to be greeted by a driving snowstorm. Here are Luke and Grace during a happier moment, spending some quality time with beloved Aunt Lauren.

Dave and Luke perched atop the Ute Trail, 1,060 feet above street level and roughly 9,000 feet above their home in Florida. It was hard work climbing the steep single track, but the flatlanders gutted it out in typical Nitti fashion.

Luke and Jackie watching TV, being guarded closely by Maci. She's very protective, as you can see.

The kids and the pup. Luckily for us, neither Luke nor Grace ever grew tired of the "Maci ringing the bell to go outside" game. I think Gracie went up and down those stairs 1,000 times in three days. God bless her.

When they weren't helping my dog poop, the Florida foursome was making the most of their time in lovely Aspen. We visited Maroon Bells, the ghost town of Ashcroft, the Reudi Resevoir, the waterfalls at the Grottos, and even stood in snow at 12,090 feet atop Independence Pass, or as Gracie affectionately named it, "Wintertown." I'd like to think they had a great time, and hopefully they'll be visiting us again soon!