The Loobster flew in on Tuesday night for a five day climbing vacation. Each day was designed so that we'd be home in time to have dinner with my family. Boulder is a unique location where a variety of climbing adventures can all be done in a single day.

Since we couldn't get any early start on Wednesday, we headed up to Lumpy Ridge to do one of the most highly recommended routes: Mainliner - a five pitch 5.9 route. The weather was perfect as it would be for the entire five days. I led the first pitch which was rated 5.8, but seemed pretty hard. The rock was great and the climbing was fun and ended on a small ledge. I found a fixed hex at this belay spot and a carabiner. I cleaned up the carabiner, but couldn't remove the hex. A hammer would have helped. Loobster led the second pitch which looked very nebulous, but turned out to be stupendous. Steep face climbing on good holds led to a difficult bulge. This 5.8 pitch was one of the best I have done at Lumpy Ridge. The next pitch was the crux and was very long. The topo calls a stemming section early in the pitch the crux and it is tricky, but I found the burly 5.9 hand crack to be the most difficult. There is a short section where the crack bulges past vertical and the footholds are minimal. This pitch ends on a nice ledge below a wide crack.

Loobster led up the crack and then setup a belay, thinking that the climbing above was easy enough to solo. I followed with some difficulty. This pitch is challenging. I was wearing the pack that we bought containing our shoes, water, food, rain shells, and an extra rope in case we had to descend. In short, the essentials for climbing at Lumpy Ridge. Once I joined the Loobster at the belay I was astounded that he thought about just scrambling this section. After about thirty feet I refused to continue this foolishness and demanded we return to belayed climbing. This pitch turned out to be 5.6 or 5.7 and rounded and insecure holds were the main features. Loobster finished the lead and ended with a big traverse to the right where we could unrope and do the standard descent. It was still pretty early but we needed to be back for babysitting duty. So instead of arriving home late, we did the grocery shopping and arrived home early.

The next day we were up early: 4 a.m. At least that was the plan. I misplaced my watch and had to count on the Loobster to wake me up. The Loobster boasted about waking up at 4:30 a.m. every day. He is into work by 6 a.m. Well, then there is no way this guy is going to over sleep when the wake up time is only a half hour early than normal. Except that he set his alarm for 3:50 PM! Luckily Sheri woke up at 4 a.m. and shook me awake, "Aren't you supposed to be getting up now?" This isn't the first time she has saved us from oversleeping. What a couple of clowns we are. Maybe we secretly want to oversleep so that we wouldn't have to go on such a long climb? Maybe Sheri wasn't saving us from missing a climb, but depriving us of our rest by shaming us into going?

Nevertheless we were out of the house by 4:10, headed for the Glacier Gorge trailhead in Rocky Mountain National Park. Our objective was the Kor Route on the Saber. The Saber is one of the Cathedral Spires that loom above Sky Pond. The most famous Cathedral Spire is the spire just left of the Saber: the Petit Grepon. The only other time I'd been back to Sky Pond was in 1987 when I climbed the Petit Grepon's South Face. The route on the Saber is considerably longer at 11 pitches, most difficult at 5.9, and a bit more serious.

The hike into Sky Pond is extremely beautiful. We encountered some hard snow on the last hill before reaching Sky Pond but were able to barely generate enough friction without getting out the ice axes we were carrying. We arrived at the base of the route a little after 8 a.m. only to find that, on a Thursday with not a single party on the more popular Petit Grepon, there was another party on our route. They were on the second pitch already. Damn! Actually, they could have been heading for a different route at this point since all the routes start with the same three pitches, which reach a ledge a third of the way up the spire. We quickly geared up and I led off. We both carrying packs as we wanted to come down via the Gash - a wild, seldom visited valley on the other side of the Saber - and carried big boots and ice axes for the descent.

We simul-climbed the first three pitches and I arrived on the big ledge just before our rivals, Peter and Dennis, by taking an alternate route. Both Peter and Dennis were very friendly guys and offered for us to go first since we were moving faster. We graciously accepted, thinking that they were very slow because of how fast we caught and passed them. They did much better on the upper section, but still fell a couple hours behind us.

The crux pitch of the route leads off this ledge. One guidebook rates it 5.8, but the crux is clearly 5.9. It felt very hard with my pack on and the Loobster felt it was 5.9+. It starts with a very steep dihedral, but judicious stemming eases the burden on the arms. Next up is a tricky overhanging bulge that tested my arms severely. Once I got some good gear in, I cranked over this section to some good footholds. The crux was still to come. Above I climbed a left facing dihedral via some hand jams, fingerlocks, and liebacks. The footholds here are marginal at best and this was a grunt. Thankfully it was over quickly and I set up a belay. This is a stellar pitch and clearly the best on the route. The Loobster had a easier time on the lower section than I did, but was stressed to the maximum on the crux. He arrived at the belay beaten down physically and mentally and asked me to take the next lead.

There are two options here: straight up at 5.10- or traverse right at 5.6. After my difficulties on the last pitch, I traversed off to the left. Around the corner the climbing was indeed easier, but it was tricky and the protection wasn't great. Fortunately this section didn't last long and I was soon moving up quickly. I reached a big grassy ledge, placed a piece, and traversed over to the base of a large dihedral that marked the start of the next pitch. Here I found a couple of bail biners and added them to my rack. We'd done five pitches and it was 10:30. We decided to take a short break to eat and drink something. Not too long of course, since we had a party behind us.

Rejuvenated, the Loobster led off on the next pitch. This pitch is rated 5.7, but once again we found it harder. I thought it was 5.8. The climbing here is beautiful: steep and on solid rock. I followed and led another long pitch, half of which was of similar great quality and the other half of a broken, loose, compact and somewhat runout nature that would characterize the remaining pitches of the route. Loobster took the eighth lead and headed up into nebulous, steep terrain. The rope paid out slowly, paused, then started coming back. I reeled in thirty feet of rope. "What was going on up there", I wondered. Finally the "Off belay" command came down. This was the key pitch in the route finding. The book describes the pitch as heading up and slightly right. In fact, the pitch needs to head strongly right - about at a forty five degree angle is the location of the next belay, though we reached it by climbing straight up on run-out rock and then traversing straight right. The Loobser found rappel anchors here as described in the book. From here you can see the notch between the false summit where most of the routes end and the ridge leading to the true summit, though it is very hard to know this from the belay. If you are going to the real summit, and we were, it is important not to reach the other false summit since from there you must rappel back down. Here is where Peter and Dennis made a route finding error and ended up on the false summit.

I led up the next pitch which is a bit runout and tricky. The rating is supposed to be 5.6, but feels more like scary 5.8. This put me exactly where the topo said I should be: just below the top of the ridge. Loobster led off right on a 4^th class traverse and then up 5.6 rock to the top of the ridge. The final pitch led around a gendarme on the west side and then directly up the crest to the summit. We arrived at 2:45 p.m. and took a short break to eat something and coil the ropes. From here we downclimbed unroped the 4^th class descent. This is steep and exposed. Just before reaching the col that separates the Saber from the Sharkstooth (which is the largest of the Cathedral Spires and towers over the others), we stopped to change into our big boots and get out the axes. The next 1500 feet of descending would be on steep snow. We plunged stepped down the first steep section, then had to scramble around a cliff band on talus before returning to the snow. Here we started a joyful glissade. Once at the bottom of the valley, we hiked down it to rejoin the Loch Vale trail. We were back at the car after twelve hours of adventuring. We stopped in Lyons for some drinks and called home to tell Sheri to order the pizza! We were home before 7 p.m. - just in time for Loobster to pay for the pizza.

Friday we met the Trashman at 4 a.m. at our usual meeting place and drove up to St. Mary's glacier. I'd never been up here before and had never climbed James Peak so I was excited to be going someplace new. James Peak is 13,294 feet and one of the tallest mountains in the Indian Peaks Wilderness, which is adjacent to and directly south of Rocky Mountain National Park. We were headed for the classic Shooting Star snow couloir on the east face of James. We wanted to get up the couloir before it got too soft, hence our early start.

We hiked about twenty minutes before reaching the "glacier". The snow was quite hard here, but crampons weren't necessary. Crossing the Jamacia Flats, a mile long, relatively flat section where no vegetation grows higher than six inches, we were hit with strong headwinds. I drafted just inches behind the Trashman's pack in an effort to save energy. This worked remarkably well and soon the Loobster fell in close behind me. All of us walking along so close together reminded me of the Seven Dwarfs. If the Trashman were to pull up short, we'd all run into each other.

Soon we reached the point where we were supposed to descend 700 feet to the base of the east face. The descent looked steep, tedious, and a long way down. The eastern cirque of James Peak is a wild, alpine place. Snow ran down the multiple couloirs on the east face, pooled into large fields and eventually spilled into the lake at the base where icebergs floated. We nixed the descent and did a rising traverse to a broad bench. Here I felt my legs cramping somewhat. A short rest seemed to solve the problem. We took this opportunity to change into long pants.

We descended about about 200 feet down to the snowfield and traversed north until we could see the bottom of the Shooting Star couloir. Super Star, another couloir that starts in the same location was plainly visible, but Shooting Star is deeply inset into the face and couldn't be seen. At the base of the snowfield, we put on our crampons, got out our ice tools (two each), and put on our harnesses. We didn't get out the rope yet and hoped that we wouldn't have to. I led us up the 40 degree snow and into the couloir. Super Star didn't look any steeper than Shooting Star, but it was capped with a large cornice which necessitates some rock climbing to pass. We headed up to the left and soon I was panting and my calves were fatigued. We each moved at our own pace and took frequent, short breaks.

About a third of the way up, as I'm looking down at the Trashman he says, "Ice." Thinking that he is referring to an icy section of climbing coming up, I turn to examine it. Much to my chagrin, a basketball-sized piece of ice is bounding towards me. I have almost no time to react, but luckily it passes well to my right. I scream, "Rock!" down at the Loobster, fearing the worst. The ice ball is headed directly for him. If it hits him, it will probably kill him. If it doesn't kill him directly, then it will knock him loose and on snow this hard with two tools in his hand he will have no chance of arresting before his crampons catch and send him tumbling to serious injury or death. To my surprise he doesn't move at all. He takes no evasive action. Later he would say he didn't think he had time to get completely out of the way. He waited until the ice ball took it last bounce and then he ducked. The ball bounced directly over him and just like that the danger had passed. Except that I was now very paranoid about further projectiles. In the lead, I could warn the others about falling objects, but who would warn me? I couldn't look up and climb at the same time. My plan was to climb as fast as I could between sheltered spots and have the Trashman stop and watch while I climbed. This worked out fine and no more ice or rocks can hurtling down at us.

I topped out after less than an hour of climbing and the others soon followed. The summit was only a hundred feet away and we were on top before 9 a.m. The surrounding mountains were beautiful and we pointed out Grays, Torreys, Holy Cross, and Longs Peak to the Loobster. This flatlander from California was keeping up just fine with the Colorado climbers. Loobster had gone from sea level to over 13,000 feet in just a couple of days.

The descent was quick and easy with the exception of the endless Jamaica Flats, but this was easier due to the tailwind and slight descent. Stripping down after descending St. Mary's Glacier, we watched as a giant horde of young kids, all wearing large packs, walked by. They were headed for some time of glacier training, but there didn't seem to be nearly enough adults with them. I hope no one got hurt. We got back to the car around 10:30 a.m. - less than five hours after we had left.

We were back in Boulder before noon. That was good for me since this was my anniversary. We stopped at the florists and picked up a card and a dozen roses before heading home to relieve Sheri from kid duty. The rest of the afternoon was just laying around playing with the kids. By early evening it felt like a rest day. Sheri and I went out to dinner to celebrate our special day..

Once again we were up before 4 a.m. and Steve Carpenter arrived at my house right on time at 4 a.m. Having this alpine routine down cold by now, we all had our packs completely ready to go. Steve had all his gear in a big duffel bag, and no food or water. This was my first time climbing with Steve so I cut him some slack. This was a "get to know each other" climb since I was hoping he'd be my partner on an attempt on the Eiger later in the year. We drove to the Trashman's house where Steve remembered his lack of water and filled up. A quick stop at the Quickie-Mart in Lyons allowed Steve to buy breakfast and lunch for the day. The back seat, Steve and Trash, took advantage of the drive to get some extra sleep while the Loobster and I chatted on the drive. Once at the trailhead, to Steve's credit, he was ready as soon as the rest of us and we were hiking by 5:45 a.m.

We were headed back into the Gash. Having found it so beautiful and wild two days ago we were anxious to return and show Steve and Trash what a wonderful place this it is. This time we were headed for the tallest Cathedral Spire of them all: the Sharkstooth. Once again the hike was beautiful. We kicked steps up the steep snowfields, passed the cliff band and then worked out way up the steep soft snow to a rock ledge below the start of the route. Determining exactly where to start was challenging, but the Trashman was sure it was above this rock ledge and he was right. Our route began 300 feet below the Saber/Sharkstooth col and it would be dangerous to descend the steep snow from the col, where the descent route ends up, back to this rock ledge. Trashman came up with the plan of hiking up to the col and leaving three of our four ice axes. Then we'd only have to carry one axe up the climb.

Steve and I were one team and the Loobster and the Trashman would follow us up. Each second wore a pack with food, water, gaiters, and shells. Steve and I climbed in our new Trango boots. These are great boots with a fairly rigid sole. I call them my "Tetons" boots because they can hike reasonably well, take a step-in crampon, plunge step down snow and climb rock reasonably well. My plan was to wear a single boot for moderate alpine rock climbs that involved a long approach and either a glacier approach or some ice climbing. This route would be a trial run for harder climbs to come. Since we were wearing our approach shoes, we didn't have that much in our pack. The others had to have two sets of big boots in their pack.

The first two pitches are junky, indistinct, broken, rounded, sparsely protected, loose, alpine pitches. The Loobster particularly didn't like the second pitch, which involved weaving around some big, loose rocks on steep ground. Each belay for the entire climb was a nice, flat ledge and this made the climb very comfortable. Looking down from the first belay, I could see a pair of marmots invading our basecamp. I yelled down to the Loobster to retrieve all of my food from my brand new Alpine Attack 50 pack. I didn't want those damn mountain rats chewing through my new pack.

At the top of the second pitch things look grim. Straight up is clearly very hard and unprotected. I traversed around to the left and found an exposed, precarious traverse that led to outstanding, steep climbing. I found a piton and it led me towards a steep crack. I could have gone further left and made the climbing easier, but the crack right on the crest of the ridge was too appealing to ignore. Fifteen feet above my last piece with stiff boots tenuously smeared on rounded footholds, I was second guessing my decision. My left hand was in the crack, but I couldn’t see into it and didn't feel I could place a piece there. I struggled to place a blind piece underneath a small roof and then turned the roof and was soon at a great belay ledge. I thought this pitch might give Steve trouble since he hadn't been rock climbing in about a year, yet he cruised it commenting on the great climbing. Later the Trashman would call this pitch 5.8. It certainly was harder than the 5.6 the guidebook quotes. But this might be because we didn't go further left.

The climbing continued to be outstanding: steep, solid, interesting, good protection. At one point there is a 5.5 offwidth which fit my boot perfectly. One comfortable boot jam and I was by it. Above the climbing is right on the arete and we looked down on a very steep, dark north face and were thankful to be climbing in the warm sun. Occasionally we were hit with some strong wind, but mostly conditions were perfect. We reached the summit after six and a half pitches just before noon, about six hours from the car. We lounged around eating and drinking for 45 minutes. We watched a party on the Southwest Ridge of the Saber and then saw a party top out on the Petit Grepon. Both routes were fall below us.

Finally we coiled the ropes and started the descent. We found rappel anchors a short way below the summit and did a double rope rappel down the "headwall" of the East Face route. Then we scrambled on a grassy ledge to the north for another double rope rappel. More scrambling and a final single rope rappel led us quickly and easily down to the col and our ice axes. Soon we were back at our basecamp to discover the damn marmots had eaten my T-shirt and Sheri's baseball hat which I was borrowing. They also ate Loobster's shirt and the waistband of his shorts. The marmots were still there! I threw a small rock at one of them and it bounced off his back. The marmot didn't even move. Was it dead? Did a large fall off and kill it? I approached more closely and found it to be fine, just not concerned about moving any further away until I chased them. These boys are bold.

The descent and hike out went quickly. We all marveled at the great climbing, the perfect weather, and the fabulous beauty of this area. We were amazed that on a Saturday we could be the only four people in the Gash. We lucky to live close to Rocky Mountain National Park. The Loobster and I did some fun, high speed glissading, but Trashman and Steve elected to walk down or ski on their boots and stay dry. We got back to the car 9 hours and 45 minutes after leaving it and I was home by 5:30 p.m. We barbecued on the deck after playing some "tennis" with Daniel.

Sunday was my turn to stay home and I was thankful for the opportunity to sleep past 4 a.m. after three days in a row. I languished in bed until 6:45 a.m. before getting up to see to the families needs. Sheri and the Loobster were off with Don to hike up Mt. Bierstadt. I took the boys to Silver Plume to ride the Georgetown narrow gauge train loop. This train was originally supposed to go to Breckenridge and Leadville via a tunnel where the Eisenhower tunnel now exists. But before the tunnel could be built, the company bought another line that made its way to Breckenridge via Fairplay, where highway 285 is now. This narrow gauge train (3' from rail to rail instead of the standard gauge width of 4'8") makes a complete loop over itself in order to keep the percent grade to 4%. Silver Plume is only two air miles from Georgetown, but 650 feet higher. The grade is too steep for a train to go directly up the valley like I-70 does now. Hence, the helical loop where the train goes over a hundred-foot bridge. It is this loop which gives the line its name: Silver Plum - Georgetown Loop. The track itself is a strict point to point and there is not even enough room to turn the train or engine around. They just move the engine from one end of the train to the other via a siding.

After the train ride down and back, I loaded the boys back into the car and we headed down to Georgetown. We were meeting the hikers at a restaurant for lunch. After trading stories over a delicious lunch, Don took off for Boulder. Sheri fed Derek beneath a shade tree as Daniel and I played and Loobster packed for his return flight. We dropped Loobster at the airport on our way home. He was sufficiently tired and ready to go back to work. To rest!