A proposed climb of Blanca Peak was thwarted by a surprise gale force wind encountered just above timberline and just below Lilly Lake, near Blanca Peak. The wind was so strong that it literally ripped MA’s backpack from his body. We never found the buckle that was ripped from the waist strap. Getting up near the lake, four foot waves and white caps had Lilly Lake churning like an angry sea. The lake is nothing more than a tiny alpine body of water. We though the wind was going to blow the entire lake out of its hole and down the mountain. The area around the outlet was soaked from the waves charging over the banks. I had to duck behind a rock to change my film.
While filling my stove, the wind grabbed the white gas coming out of the spout and sent it everywhere except into my stove, drenching the rock I was going to set the stove on. Upon lighting the stove while desperately sheltering the flame, I managed to light the stove as well as the entire rock. My stove was engulfed in a titanic bonfire fueled by a burning rock. The flames rose high, fueled by the wind, which also quickly extinguished them.
Dropping about a hundred feet below the lake, we managed to get below the wind level. But during the night, the level lowered and pounded our tents, both of which were barely standing the following morning. We did not sleep well. The next morning was calm and cloudless. We thought we’d go back up to the lake and see if the wind had stopped. We did. The wind had not stopped. It was wailing harder than before. We were getting sprayed with water seventy feet from the lake. We looked at Blanca, imagining what it would be like up there on the saddle between it and Ellingwood and said “adios.”
We went up north to Hermit Pass that afternoon. The wind was blowing so hard, we could lean in to it and not fall over. I’ve got a picture of my friend, Mike Kloepfer, doing just that. Changing my film, MA crouched with me behind a rock and asked what we should do-should we climb a nearby mountain or leave. I had to have him repeat the question because I could not hear him, yet he was yelling in my ear. I finally said that I wanted to go home and watch a movie.
I had heard about the Sangre De Cristos getting horrendous wind, but I did not realize how serious horrendous wind could be until I experienced it for myself on these mountains. An innocent looking day in the Sangres can be draining or even lethal if high winds are aloft. Whenever I encounter high winds that I know are going to beat the crap out of me, I turn around, even on sunny days, particularly in the Sangres.
To read about the 9th worst storm I’ve done battle with, go here. Images
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Sangre de Cristo Mountains
