Mt. Massive: A (Massive) Disappointment

Mt. Massive (14,421')

miles hiked: 12.2 miles
elevation gained: 3,600'

As we approached the end of our Sawatch journey, we settled in for the grand finale: a five-day stretch in a beautiful region and a shot at climbing the two tallest mountains in the state. Our final campsite was deliciously poised in-between the trailheads of these two great mountains (Mt. Massive and Mt. Elbert) and within easy walking distance of each. This allowed us to give our overburdened car a much needed rest.

The east slopes route up Massive is long, one of the longest standard routes up a single fourteener in Colorado. The almost 14-mile journey courses from Massive's south side to its east side via a long, serpentine path. We began this pertinacious trek at 5:30 on a brisk Saturday morning. The sky was troubled by a sheet of stratus clouds that severed into gray cumulus blocks as they coursed with the prevailing winds east over the Sawatch Range.

After hiking through the beautiful, silent forests of the Mt. Massive wilderness for several hours, we emerged from the trees after four-and-a-half miles of exhaustive climbing. The camel-humps of Massive's long summit ridge were visible at last. It was not too difficult for the discerning climber to decipher which of the astonishing nine summits on Massive's summit ridge was the main peak, but we overheard several nearby climbers, perhaps out of exhaustion and misplaced hope, point out the much-nearer South Massive (one of Massive's four "unofficial" 14,000 points) as the trajectory to their companions. There was no need to correct them; there was no mistaking Massive's highly traveled trail, and they would soon figure out the truth for themselves. The name Massive is particularly apt for this mountain, for it is massive. It is more a range or sub-range than a singular peak.

Views of Mt. Elbert on approach to Massive:

From here the trail turned west directly toward the summit, and it was tempting to think that the uphill-portion of our journey was almost complete. But as we hiked steadily upwards, it seemed as if the mountain was retreating just as fast. Rows after rows of ominous clouds were building and breaking over Massive's hulk, and we questioned whether the weather would hold. We cursed the relentless, unsettled weather that had plagued a large portion of our trip (the past week in particular), but persisted onward with the hope that a summit window would open up. It was, after all, only 8:30 am.

Views from Massive's eastern slopes north towards the Holy Cross Wilderness (Mt. of the Holy Cross visible in the distance):

As we hiked through the pristine high-alpine meadows, the clouds grew only darker and the wind more fierce. By the time we reached 13,000' both wind and cloud had become a constant threat. A long queue of climbers both preceded and succeeded our position, however, which encouraged us onward. We continued to 13,500'.

The summit ridge was tantalizingly close now, but the clouds were no longer breaking apart as they had been previously. A dark anvil now hung poised over Massive's summit. We faced a difficult decision.

Clouds building over Mt. Massive:

We had hiked nearly six miles but still had about an hour's push to the top. It was not a pleasant day and threatened to get worse. We could either stop now and all our hard work would be for naught, or we could push on and risk being caught above treeline in an unpleasant storm. The best we could hope for, even if we did make the top, was a windy, uncomfortable summit. After debating for several long minutes and watching the clouds worsen above us, we made the difficult choice to turn around.

The grim storm that turned us back:

The journey down was difficult. We passed numerous groups ill-clad and under-prepared still persevering towards the mountain. The realization that if these people were going to make it we surely could have put us in a somber mood. The long walk out became a walk of shame. We second-guessed our decision. We were massively disappointed.

It was the first time in my mountaineering career that I had turned around completely empty-handed. It surely will not be the last. It was difficult to hike down with the usual sense of accomplishment replaced by a sense of deep disappointment and failure. The moment we reached camp, however, the clouds opened up and rain and lightning began tumbling from the sky. Had we pushed to the summit we would surely have been caught in a deluge. But was this one of those moments in life when you are tested, body and soul, and have to choose between a tough road to success or an easy concession of failure? Or was this a moment where wisdom outpaced valor, and we wisely turned our backs to visceral pleasure?

The mood remained somber at camp for most of the afternoon. We sat by the creek and discussed the day and our decision. Ultimately, we decided that we weren't here in the high country to "bag" summits. We were here to gain experience and commune with the natural order. Summiting these mountains, in many ways, is simply a perk of a larger, more important experience. The people who persevered may have won bragging rights for bar-counter banter later that evening, but at what cost? A wet, cold, unenjoyable summit and risky exposure to the threat of lightning?

We will come back and demand a better experience on Massive.