On September 6 2023 around 5 a.m. I embarked from the Capitol Ditch Trailhead in an attempt to link the seven 14ers in the Elk Mountain Range in Colorado (Capitol, Snowmass, Maroon, North Maroon, Pyramid, Conundrum, Castle). The route, especially the first 2/3, is largely a backcountry adventure that crosses massive expanses of loose talus, criss-crosses game trails, and weaves along snaking ridge lines of unpredictable granite, sandstone, and shale. There are many different ways to connect things, but the route I chose to take is 45 miles with just under 23,000 feet of vertical gain, much of which is on technical 3rd, 4th, and 5th class terrain. Thanks to all those who came before me on this route... I feel like I had to do very little when it came to route planning and reconnaissance because everyone had already unlocked all the little secrets. Are there more? Probably.
Trip report:
From the TH to the summit of Capitol I focused on finding a good rhythm with my running stride. Not being much of a runner, I just tried to think about how I could cover those first 7 miles efficiently. When I arrived at the more technical section of the Capitol climb I knew I was entering my wheelhouse and felt relaxed and confident. I was flowing well and felt like my movements were smooth but deliberate and precise, making it from K2 to the summit of Capitol and back to K2 in 30 minutes. I was doing a good job of fueling and staying hydrated on the fly, and was able to dip my two 17 oz bottles quickly in one of the Pierre Lakes and keep moving. Getting through the Cap-Snowmass saddle on to the west side of Snowmass was the scariest part of the day. To gain the saddle doesn't require much vert, but the last ~200 feet feels like a house of granite cards that could collapse at any moment with the wrong hand or foot placement. It was odd to top out and see a very new-looking 60 m rope flaked on the ground right in the saddle. Still have no idea what that was about. I felt strong getting up the west side of Snowmass and was grateful that because of my quick time to that point the climb was still in the shade. I jogged down the east side of the peak and over across the high traverse to Lost Remuda Basin, still feeling like my legs were fresh and my motivation high. As I was climbing up into the remote basin my foot slipped on a snow patch I was crossing and my running pole snapped in two. Frustrated and slightly dejected by the bad omen, I made myself just keep moving and convinced myself that other than the Pyramid ascent and East Maroon grind, two poles really wouldn't help me much anyway. I crossed the basin, stopping to replenish my bottles quickly in the tarn below the Bells, and made efficient work of the West Ridge of S Maroon, reaching the top at just over 6.5 hours in to the adventure. Twenty two minutes later I was over on the summit of North Maroon and pretty much on my way down towards Crater Lake immediately. Once I was on the Bells I knew that I could shift my brain into cruise control and mentally recover a bit since I've been up there guiding nearly every day for the last 7 weeks and I know every move, foot placement, rock, zig zag, and hidden hand hold by heart at this point. Without incident I found myself flowing off of North Maroon and up the other side of the valley toward the summit of Pyramid. I'm a little sick of the Pyramid ascent at this point in the climbing season, so I let my mind wander to more exciting and distracting thoughts until I found myself at the 13k saddle (my Pyramid tally for this summer is at 17). I quickly snaked up the peak's many ledges, tagged the USGS survey on the summit, and cruised back down to my pack that I had buried in the rocks at the saddle. Originally I was thinking I was going to descend straight down east from the saddle through the real sketchy sketch shit, but after seeing Chris Hopkins' genius move of dropping into the Banana Couloir Basin and THEN dropping east into East Maroon, I decided that was a much smarter decision (that east shot off of the 13k saddle on Pyramid is gnar gnar). So that was awesome, thanks Chris! It still pretty much sucks coming down that way, and I spent plenty of time using a certain word in many various contexts, but at no point did I feel like I was rolling the dice like you have to do a couple of times if you take the truly direct route down from the 13k saddle. So I found myself at the creek, chugging water, and mentally gearing up for the part of the day that I knew I would be slow on... the nice, beautiful East Maroon trail. Once I was moving, however, I felt like my legs were up to the running challenge, and I plodded my way up valley toward Copper Pass. Never fast, but nice and steady and not too much like the clydesdale I sometimes feel like when I'm trying to run. The dead conifer branch I picked up as my broken pole replacement certainly helped. Fortunately, I also had a Wu Tang song stuck in my head for several of those grinding miles, so that certainly helped lift my spirits and kept me moving with a bounce in my step. When I finally ran up and over Copper and Triangle Passes, I realized that it would definitely be in my best interest to bust ass a bit as high as I could on the backside of Conundrum before it got dark. The ascent up from the valley floor is a beast and if you can spot the little intricacies that lead you on to the ridge coming down from the Conundrum summit in the light, it's very very helpful. So I burnt a couple matches to get up on to the ridge, and fortunately was able to get to the part of the climb where it's quite straightforward before it was pitch dark. A forced stop to shove into my mouth the one sweet potato and rice burrito I brought with me gave me just enough of an energy injection to rally to the top of Conundrum and on to Castle, still feeling like my legs and lungs were churning out exactly what my mind was asking them to. The descent off of Castle was a fun one as that was another part of technical-ish ridge running that I feel like I know like the back of my hand. So before I knew it I was on my way out Montezuma and headed towards home. I did start to stress a bit when I realized that my gravel bike I had stashed in the woods at the finish maybe had a flat that I hadn't properly taken care of, and I had been planning on finishing the traverse and then jumping on my bike to get home that night. But I decided I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. I rallied the last few miles pretty well, feeling like I was giving it my all but never totally on the ropes (didn't want to do something stupid like have a nasty trip or a rolled ankle). The best sight of the night was hitting the pavement where the traverse officially ends and seeing my wife, Sophie, waiting there to take me home in a warm car, not on a bike with a flat tire. All in all it was one of the most unforgettable experiences I've ever had in the mountains and I felt like some sort of mountain spirit was really looking out for me all day. I'll probably do it again at some point, though definitely not anytime soon. Stoked to see where people can take this route in the future, because I know I'm just another chapter in the Elks Traverse book and there will be more inspiring and exciting chapters written after mine.
Gear list (if any company wants to support me with product that would be f'ing awesome):
- 8 liter North Face running vest
- 2 Salomon 17 oz filter flask bottles
- 6 Skratch gummy packets, 5 Rx Bars, 5 Snickers, 1 sweet potato and rice burrito
- Light Stio puffy, ultralight Stio wind shell, Hestra XC gloves, Buff (I never put on any of the warm things I brought)
- Petzl Swift RL headlamp + spare battery, Petzl Bindi headlamp as backup
- Oakley Sutro sunglasses
- Salomon Pulsar Trail Pro 2 shoes
- Leki Ultratrail FX.One Superlite running poles (now down to one)
- Garmin inReach mini
- Suunto 9 watch