Prologue

Tabor Peak and Tabor Lake
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

Anymore, it is rare that a photo will inspire me to climb a mountain. When I was young, that was certainly the case. I wanted to climb everything I saw in print. As I climbed many mountains and gained experience over the years, inspiration by photograph became a highly selective moment. Then, early in the last decade of the previous century, I purchased the 9th edition of the Guide to the Colorado Mountains, printed by the Colorado Mountain Club. On the cover was a photo of Capitol Peak. When I laid eyes on the photo, it was one of those crystal clear moments in my life that I never forget. I knew in that instant that my fate and that of the mountain were intertwined. I was destined to climb it. Little did I know what the challenge would entail, and that I would go on to climb it twice, regard it as one of my favorites and ultimately end up watching over the mountain here on SummitPost.

That was a “defining” sequence of events in my overall climbing experience, and it was all brought on by simply laying eyes on a photograph. Such events occurred at rare intervals since then, and most of the mountains I climbed afterwards were mountains I had seen before that defining moment. They were simply waiting on the list, and I climbed them when I got around to them. There was no sense of urgency as there was for Capitol. I was successful in summiting Colorado’s renowned fourteener after two thwarted attempts over a period of two years, so I was determined. Such drive and determination would not be visited upon me again for many years.

Fast forward to 2007. Summer is just around the bend. Record heat is cooking Colorado and the snow is melting fast. Like many other folks, Ellen and I are getting out in the mountains and achieving altitude early on, training in an aggressive manner. We’re hoping to be trim and in top shape (well, at least for folks our age) for another aggressive climbing season, and the priority is to help Ellen finish off the fourteeners. There’s ten of them left on her list, six of which I’ll gladly do with her, three of which I’ve done before. Our proposed schedule is full, there isn’t any room for an additional trip anywhere. In fact, we’ve made it known to our regular hiking group that our presence may be noticeably thinner on the hikes as the season progresses. We need to be ready to jump at a weather window if need be, and take every opportunity to climb the fourteeners in the hope Ellen can get them done.

Then my SP compadre, Kane, sent me an email. Like previous emails which he sends to a fair amount of family and friends, it gave a rough account of his activities over the weekend. As always, a few select specimens of Kane’s magnificent photography accompanied the message, and in typical fashion, they were attached, not imbedded in the email text. So I read the text. In typical Kane fashion, it was a straightforward, factual report until the end, where some unusual coloring and tone was present in the words. This caught my attention, as it was not the usual Kane style of writing. Hmm. Must be a nice place!

Then I clicked on the first attached photo. I couldn’t believe my eyes when that photo flashed up on my (larger than normal) monitor. I almost fell out of my chair. I was speechless and motionless. I just stared at it. The photo was of a gorgeous mountain. So gorgeous that I thought I was dreaming, or that Kane had been to Glacier National Park. But this scene was right here in Colorado. It was a magnificent, beautiful moment in the Colorado high country, and Kane had captured it. And damn, it felt as if it were just for me! (Kane later told me that he thought about me as he was climbing the mountain).

A lofty, rugged sentinel of a peak was staring at me from my computer screen. There was still plenty of snow covering its slopes. The sun was low, it was a morning moment, and the light illuminated the scene in a glorious glow like I had never seen in a high altitude photograph. Directly below the symmetrical summit, a thousand feet, was a lake, perched on the edge of a cliff! It was still covered in ice, barely beginning to thaw, but the aquamarine color leapt out at me and yanked at my heart. My God, I thought. Where in the world is this mountain located? The attachment title was “Tabor Peak.”

I hurriedly powered up TOPO to have a look, using the search mechanism for Tabor Peak. Nothing. Okay. Long shot. I tried Tabor Lake. PING! There it was!

The picture was of Tabor Mountain, a seemingly insignificant low thirteener in Colorado’s Collegiate Peaks Wilderness, near the center of the state. On the map, it’s not even labeled, but Tabor Lake is. Tabor Lake rests on the east face of the mountain, cradled by the impressive peak on three sides as if held to its bosom like a newborn child, a treasure beyond compare.

Not only was I impressed, I was inspired, to the point of unexpected elation.

I checked out the two other accompanying images. One was of the mountain itself, and the intriguing ridge Kane ascended extended down from the summit to the right. What a glorious, elegant line! No wonder Kane’s words were out of the ordinary! The third photo was of the lake. Kane had visited its shores. Icebergs were floating in the aqua-green water and the shoreline was a wall of snow. It was stunningly gorgeous. Yep! I was inspired alright! I had to go there and see this place for myself. I returned to the photos repeatedly on the following days, figuratively pinching myself that it was real. It wasn’t Glacier National Park. It was Colorado!

I was still in awe that it was in Colorado. You’d think an old timer like me would never have missed such a spot. I had climbed Grizzly Peak to the east twice and had surely seen this mountain, but simply failed to recall it. Just goes to show no matter you long you’re around, you’ll never know enough to not learn more!

I had that old determined feeling again. I had that drive. Only I wasn’t going to wait a year or two as I did for Capitol. My meeting with the mountain was imminent. I was excited, and circulated the photos among our hiking group through email. I announced my intention to squeeze a visit to this very special mountain into our schedule in the very near future.

Kane had posted a brief and intentionally vague description of his route and experience on SP, along with a map with waypoints. I had decided Ellen and I would trace his steps. After so many years of folks following in my steps, I had the pleasure of following someone else’s, and if there was ever any footsteps I would trust, it was Kane’s. So with a printed TOPO map and our dayhike gear, Ellen and I set out to climb the beautiful mountain known as Tabor Peak, another great secret in the heart of Colorado’s wilderness.

Climbing Tabor Peak

Crossing Lincoln Creek
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

Kane mentioned an initial creek crossing in his brief report on SP. He used the word “tricky,” and it’s a good word. Lincoln creek is almost a river. It’s wide and deep in spots, and it was still running fairly swift. Yet a gigantic log, supported by others, spanned the creek. The log had seen much traffic and was worn smooth, so walking all the way across was not a safe option. The other logs beneath served as good footholds, but midway, we scooted across and took no chances.

Ascending left of the avalanche gully
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

Beyond the crossing, we followed a good trail that climbed quickly through the forest. It crossed an aqueduct road and entered the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness at that point. We followed the trail along the creek due south and soon crossed the creek, which was another somewhat tricky maneuver, before breaking out of the trees about ten minutes later. The first waypoint was the trailhead. The second waypoint is where Kane left the trail, ascending directly west up steep tundra slopes to the mile-plus long ridge extending north from the as yet unseen mountain. The map showed that Kane likely ascended along a gully on the east face of the mountain, and within minutes, the trail crossed a gouge in the mountainside. This was obviously an avalanche run. Looking up the gully, which became shallow further up the slope, there was absolutely nothing to stop a careening avalanche in winter. A huge snow bank was below us, straddling Tabor Creek, having melted from the bottom up from the running water. This was obviously the remnants of an avalanche, and another one was visible further up the valley that was twice as large. These events must have been spectacular.

Steep terrain on the ascent
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

Once on the south side of the gully, we left the trail and started the direct ascent of the slope toward the ridge top. We broke out of the shadow of the neighboring ridge to the east and basked in the warm sunshine of a glorious Colorado high country morning. The tundra grass was still short, having recently been covered by the last of the winter snow only weeks ago. The slope steepened and we were soon gaining a foot or two with each step. The tundra held the ground firm for our steps, but we soon encountered rocky rubble sprinkled in with the grass and traction became tenuous at times. We rounded some krumholtz and scampered up some bands of class 2 rock covered in rubble, but nothing was difficult except the increasing angle. I was soon taking steps in which my knee would come up to my chin and I would occasionally use my hands to steady my balance against the slope.

Sunflowers and Castle Peak
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

Above the rock bands, more rubble covered tundra was the rule to the top of the ridge. Once there, I had a glorious view to the west of most of the Elk Range. Ellen was about five minutes behind me. I took a few pictures as she arrived and took a short break. On this remote mountain ridge we saw no one. This obscure corner of the wilderness was a spot that might be visited once or twice a year. If that was the case, we and Kane would be it for the season.

Aaron Johnson on the approach to Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

We started the stroll south along the ridge. We would be on this ridge for the next mile all the way to Tabor’s summit, which we still did not have in view. It wasn’t long before we came over a bump in the ridge and the mountain appeared, peeking at us from between two other ridge bumps along our lovely Class 1 stroll in this mountain wilderness. It looked lofty, impressive and just a touch foreboding, but definitely alluring. One thing was for certain-this was one of the most beautiful approaches to a mountain I had ever done. The headwater area of Tabor Creek was clearly visible, with more rugged Sawatch peaks to the south. To the east, the rugged Sawatch portion of the Continental Divide crested at the summit of Grizzly Peak, Colorado’s highest thirteen thousand foot sentinel. To the northeast and north, the sprawling and expansive Sawatch Range beckoned with hundreds of rugged peaks. To the west was the entire length of the Elk range, complete with its list of notorious fourteeners: Castle, Pyramid, the Bells, Snowmass (which looked absolutely lovely) and my favorite fourteener, Capitol Peak.

We passed through a dramatic notch (Class 2) and then scaled the ridge to a higher, level rampart for about three hundred feet. We soon came to a dip in the ridge, where we lost about a hundred feet. Through this section we could peer down into Tabor Creek through a series of rock pinnacles, which made for dramatic views. Another Class 1 scamper back up to the next high point of semi-loose talus brought us to the point from which Kane had taken his dramatic picture. With much glee, both Ellen and I snapped away with our cameras. We wanted to be certain we got a fantastic picture. There it was, Tabor Mountain, cradling that lovely jewel of Tabor Lake in its bosom! We were speechless and in total awe. We were here!

The elegant north ridge to Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

To our right, the ridge descended slightly to the southwest, then resumed its direct southward course. Any mountain climber’s eye couldn’t help but be drawn by that elegant ridge line which seductively led our gaze to the symmetrical summit. Filled with excitement and anticipation, we pressed onward, bypassing the last remnants of some drifts and cornices along the east side of the ridge. We had arrived at the third waypoint, which we would return to from the summit. This point was our descent marker from the ridge to Tabor Lake, and we would get a good view of our descent route from the ridge as we climbed the mountain.

Ascending the north ridge to Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

The terrain was still Class 1, but as we drew closer to the mountain, we could see that was about to change. The ridge narrowed and Class 2 terrain was soon the rule. This was probably the most exposed Class 2 (if you can imagine that) I have ever done. As we walked this narrow rampart, we had to keep our eyes focused on our footsteps, but the blurred peripheral vision indicated that the slope fell away on both sides significantly. A fall would bang a person up but would likely not be fatal. But it was something we weren’t interested in testing out, either! The talus on either side was fairly loose and the safest and most solid spot was definitely on the ridge top.

Ellen approaches the summit of Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

We came to a tiny notch and narrow spot where rounding or straddling the rock was necessary. The exposure was increasing from this point as we drew closer to the summit. At spots the ridge narrowed to a foot wide. The west side of the ridge was steep and loose larger talus and boulders, so if necessary, we would step to that side, but we would quickly return to the ridge top. The east side was steeper and quite loose and we avoided it for the most part. Tabor Lake was far below, and a large group of hikers were relaxing there and if they spotted us with a sharp eye, they were no doubt intrigued at our presence on the ridge. I’m sure they watched our progress with some interest (they would depart the lake after we descended and were off the formidable looking part of the ridge).

Exposed scrambling just beneath the summit of Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

Soon the ridge rose in earnest. This was our cue that we were getting close to the summit. The difficulty also increased almost instantly to Class 3 and the exposure also began to become more exhilarating. Kane mentioned this along with the surprisingly good (though still deceptively loose) rock quality of the route, so we were expecting it and the climb was just a ton of great fun. We were soon using hands and feet to ascend the ridge, when not far below the summit, the ridge leveled but narrowed to a foot or less in places, and the exposure was quite dramatic. Wow! What a charge that was getting across that stretch. I did my best to turn around and get a shot of Ellen crossing the thing, but I wouldn’t realize the success of that photo until we got back home and it appeared on the monitor.

Grizzly Peak from the summit of Tabor Peak
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

Once on the summit, we had the pleasure of letting down our guard and relaxing on top of a remote sentinel in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains in almost every direction. Many of the summits were Colorado’s highest peaks, including the top two, Elbert and Massive. Two ridges to the east was Grizzly Peak, Colorado’s highest thirteener, and of course to the west was the colorful Elk Range. We had the summit to ourselves with no chance of anyone else arriving that day.

Enjoying a great day on the summit of a remote jewel in Colorado's deep wilderness
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

We enjoyed a wonderful lunch in the stunning beauty, peace and quiet of this sensational, lonely location. Some lovely butterflies entertained us with their frolicking acrobatics, and the prerequisite flies were buzzing around, but otherwise the peak was just there for us, basking in the sun. We had no need for warm clothing (although Ellen didn’t take her jacket off during our stay). There was no wind and only an abundance of sun and high mountain air. It could not have been a more perfect day in Colorado’s high country!

Inside a plastic jar was the impromptu summit register. CMC member Gary Swing had signed in before us, and Kane had signed in a couple weeks earlier. Counting us, that was all that had signed the mountain’s summit log for 2007 so far. In 2006, two visits had occurred on the mountain, one of which was Gerry and Jennifer Roach, Colorado’s premiere guide book authors. Ellen feels certain it was they that placed the summit log on top of this lonely summit spire called Tabor Peak.

Descent to Tabor Lake

Ellen begins the descent
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

We stayed on top for half an hour and then began our descent. Shortly below the summit, the ridge got steep and Class 3 climbing was required. I shot a photo of Ellen preparing to engage this section when her knee issued her a shot of pain. Probably as she crouched, some tendons were hyper-extended, and she had to deal with this handicap for the rest of the day. Luckily it turned out to be nothing serious.

Aaron Johnson descends to Tabor Lake
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

We obviously exercised great care in descending the ridge, but we made good time and were soon at our descent point. There was absolutely no really good descent route off of the ridge to the lake, save for one solitary scree chute that was, to put it mildly, very direct. Like all hard pan scree chutes, it was hard to maneuver on at times and Ellen was unsure about the impact on her ailing knee. I descended first, hopping from side to side and riding the scree wave when the opportunity presented itself. Once out of the narrow chute area, I was able to ski a scree pile for a considerable distance before being compelled to jump to the side and wait on a large, orange boulder as Ellen descended. I watched for rocks tumbling down the slope as she made her way down. At one point, a grapefruit sized rock came trundling past me and it went clear down to the shores of the lake, not far west from a couple that were fishing!

Ellen Ritt descends to Tabor Lake
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

When I saw that Ellen was well on her way out of the chute, I descended eastward toward the lake well out of the fall line. Upon her arrival, we took another well deserved break to enjoy the tranquil shores and the glorious lake color. Large trout were in the lake, and the couple that was fishing was catching them. We took some photos and checked the time, somewhat surprised that we had descended from the summit in just under one hour. The mosquitoes soon figured out we were present and hastened us back on the trail.

Flowers and falls below Tabor Lake
Digital photo by Aaron Johnson

The trail descended north, then back to the south, beneath the impressive cliff wall that supports Tabor Lake. The outlet of the lake drains right over these cliffs, and the free falling water plummets in two stages for over one hundred feet. It was a spectacular sight with all of the greenery of the basin and splashes of color from the countless flowers. This was truly one of those magical spots in Colorado, too beautiful to be believed, yet visited by a relative few. Perhaps the best evidence that this spot was a less used locale was the trail. Once in the basin below the falls, the trail faded and was hard to follow. We eventually had to make our way to the main trail below to return to our vehicle. During our exit of the Tabor Creek drainage, I studied the ridge line we had walked, searching for other ascent or descent options, and found none that were acceptable. The route Kane had chosen had turned out to be the best one for the mountain, but that didn’t surprise me at all.

All told, we did pretty well, at least for a guy my age. We climbed to the top of Tabor in 3.5 hours, and total time for the climb car to car was 7.5 hrs, counting an hour worth of breaks along the way, on the summit and at Tabor Lake. Distance was 6.5 miles and 3,468 feet of gain, Class 1 through 3. More importantly, we had gone to a place so beautiful that dreams of such paradise can’t compare to it. And it’s here, in Colorado, one of many such secrets in the heart of the wilderness.

Epilogue

Credits & Information

The Johnsons, both SP members, pause to relax at Tabor Lake
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

A big thank you to Ms. Ellen, my wonderful wife, who loves the mountains more than I do, and eagerly joins in the celebration of being in the mountains with me. Her excitement and enthusiasm for climbing Tabor was equal to mine, and I am grateful to her for her willingness to share this in desire equally. She took most of the better pictures on this climb, and was a real trooper despite a bum knee and blisters from new boots.

Airy step along Tabor Peak's north ridge route
Digital photo by Ellen Ritt

For those wishing to follow in our footsteps, portions of this report will serve as a route description. With careful editing, a route description can be assembled from the text of this report. It may seem like a lot of trouble, but your reward for the experience of climbing this great mountain will certainly be worth it. After all, such discoveries do not come easily! Kane had to do research, which I in turn did, and so it goes with those that might choose to follow.

If you enjoyed this report, please check out “A Secret in the Heart of the Wilderness” right here on SP.

Waypoint Information
39.05.537 N 106.38.646 W Tabor Creek Trailhead
39.04.784 N 106.38.894 W Depart trail, climb west to gain ridge
39.04.693 N 106.39.432 W Ridge top, follow ridge due south
39.03.930 N 106.39.643 W Descent from ridge to Tabor Lake
39.03.666 N 106.38.905 W Main trail in Tabor Creek drainage

Links

Kane's 2007 Activities Page

The Amazing PhotoThat Inspired Me
Be sure to click on it for the larger view!

Tabor Lake by Kane
Be sure to click on it for the larger view!

Route Map

Images

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