View photos/Greg McKulick The view from the summit of Keller Mountain is a look into one of Colorado's most rugged landscapes.

Forbidding Gore Range offers thrills, chills for hiker

By GREG McKULICK
Special to the View

Two months after moving to Colorado from Kentucky in March, 1973, I drove west on Interstate 70 toward Leadville to check out Colorado’s two highest mountains - Mt. Elbert and Mt. Massive - for future hikes.

Most everything about Colorado was still new to me and I didn’t know what to expect. While driving on the uncrowded interstate, I marveled at the ridges of snow-capped peaks on both sides of the highway.

After passing the rustic communities of Idaho Springs, Georgetown and Silver Plume, I wondered what lay ahead. Then at 11,000 feet, I was flabbergasted to see a tunnel bored into the slopes of Mt. Trelease.

Rather than being short like the Pennsylvania turnpike’s mountain tunnels, the Eisenhower Tunnel was two miles long - an unexpected engineering feat that astonished me.

I saw an enormous mountain-bordered lake reflecting the sun’s morning brilliance. To the west of Dillon Reservoir, the Ten Mile Range paraded southward beside Highway 9, which passed through a wide spot on the road known as Frisco on the way to the unassuming resort town of Breckenridge.

A massive dome-shaped mountain and its awesome cathedral-shaped neighbors, north of the interstate, caught my eye. This was the Gore Range and I said to myself, “There are some mountains you should leave alone if you know what’s good for you.”

Approximately 70 miles long, the S-shaped Gore Range rises in the Eagles Nest Wilderness southwest of Green Mountain Reservoir, curving southward and paralleling the Blue River and Highway 9 to where the river empties into Dillon Reservoir. I-70, Copper Mountain Resort and Vail Pass separate the gentler southern quarter of the Gores from the extremely rugged northern portion.

No 14,000-foot summits are found in the Gores, with the loftiest peaks being 13,575-foot Mt. Powell and 13,432-foot Eagles Nest Mountain. But unlike many of Colorado’s higher and more popular ranges, the northern Gores are so forbidding that not a single mining road or Jeep track crosses its north-to-south spine.

Kathy, Attla and Chelsey hike to Eaglesmere Lake.

This is a land of sawtooth ridges and jagged peaks. There was less mining in the Gores than in any other major Colorado mountain range. Fur trappers also avoided this area due to the harsh terrain, and it remained a wilderness.

Before making his unprecedented 1869 exploration of the Colorado River and Grand Canyon, one-armed Major John Wesley Powell made the first documented ascent of the Gore’s highest peak, leaving his name on a sheet of paper in a tin can, now housed in a Colorado State Historical Society collection.

Thirteen years prior to Powell’s ascent, a civilized butcher - the Irish nobleman Sir Saint George Gore - traveled in elaborate style through the Gore wilderness.

“Civilized” refers to his fancy wagon, washing nightly in a bathtub, sipping wine from his mobile wine cellar, and reading Shakespeare to his guide, the famous frontiersman Jim Bridger. “Butcher” refers to his incredible two-year slaughter of wildlife throughout the mountain west.

For some reason which eludes me, these breathtaking mountains are named after this infamous, cultured butcher.

Before I ever set foot in the Gores, my wife, Kathy, had backpacked there with a friend in 1985 to several sub-alpine lakes in the Eagles Nest Wilderness. After returning home, she excitedly described the alpine splendors in these pristine mountains.

Summer 1987 found me recovering from major knee surgery and I took a rehab hike with Kathy to Eaglesmere Lake in the Eagles Nest Wilderness.

Our trail tunneled through extensive groves of tall aspens with red and blue columbine, sunflowers, varying shades of paintbrush, lupines and numerous other flora adorning the forest floor in a riot of color while sublime, lily-bordered lakes reflected the glacially carved wonder of the surrounding mountains.

I told Kathy that her descriptions and photos of her 1985 backpack were not an exaggeration of the Gore’s mesmerizing beauty. This gentle sub-alpine splendor transcended the fearsome views of the Gore high country, but being a peak-bagger, I couldn’t help but dream about its summits.

Fifteen years after first seeing the Gores and after having climbed numerous 14'ers in each of Colorado’s major ranges, I was finally ready to tackle a major Gore summit.

Massive, dome-shaped 12,777-foot Buffalo Mountain, overlooking Silverthorne, was the landmark peak catching my eye in 1973 and in August 1988, accompanied by wolf-malamute hybrid Attla and Chelsey Golden Retriever, I drove past several condos on the Wildernest Road to the Buffalo Cabin trailhead.

Shortly after beginning my hike, I understood my procrastination in climbing a Gore Range peak. These are serious mountains and all that was required for reaching the Buffalo summit was to ascend 3,217 feet in 1.8 miles. I climbed steeply to the left of Buffalo Cabin through shadowy woodlands, scree and loose rock to the talus-covered summit.

Attla and Chelsey, having four-wheel drive, ran easily uphill while I suffered. Prancing back to me, they encouragingly licked my face, but their provocative expressions seemingly implied: “Get the lead out, Greg. If you’re such a hot shot peak bagger, this should be a piece of cake.”

Fortunately, my exhausting trudge had no dangerous exposure, but “a piece of cake,” it was not.

Buffalo Mountain is the only Gore Range hike where I have met other people, as two sturdy backpackers joined me on its summit. They departed after taking a photo of me and my canine buddies.

Alone, I contemplated the spread-out world of Colorado’s Front Range as Dillon Reservoir, thousands of feet below my perch, shimmered in blue perfection. Buffalo Mountain’s northern side dropped sharply into a narrow gorge where a trail climbed to timberline at 11,740-foot Red Buffalo Pass before descending into Gore Creek Valley as the so-called “quick way to Vail.”

“So-called” refers to an insane, short-lived scheme to build I-70 over Red Buffalo Pass instead of Vail Pass. North of the pass, an undulating ridge, separating Eagle and Summit Counties, leads to the appropriately named Red Peak.

Eight years later, Kathy and I, joined by a Virginia couple, hiked beside fast-flowing South Willow Creek between the jagged flanks of Buffalo Mountain and Red Peak to Red Buffalo Pass. This colorful hike was my final foray into the Gores, but unfortunately Kathy could not join me on Red Peak’s high point as she remained with Diane, who suffered from altitude sickness.

Richard continued with me on surprisingly easy tundra and talus ridges, around hardened snow, to Red Peak’s pyramid-shaped high point. Knobby sub-peaks stretched eastward from the summit and to the south, rising like a huge isolated haystack, Buffalo Mountain, along with Lake Dillon, basked in a blend of shadows and sunlight.

However, my attention was focused on the mangled mass of snow-laced northwestern Gore peaks as I tried to locate two of my most remote and challenging alpine memories: West Partner Peak and Keller Mountain.

Two years earlier, Kathy and I were at the eastern outskirts of Vail where condos crowded the trailhead to Pitkin Lake and West Partner Peak. I relaxed when the condos were out of sight as we hiked the lonely trail into a glacially carved hanging valley trimmed at its edges with willowy aspens and clusters of healthy evergreens.

The higher we climbed, the more we took delight in multi-colored wildflower gardens and the plummeting waterfalls along Pitkin Creek. At the 5-mile mark, we approached the shimmering jewel of Pitkin Lake nestled at 11,400 feet in elevation in a valley bordered by sawtooth ridges.

On this exquisitely clear August 1994 morning, I wondered how the world could contain so many rich shades of green. Lots of snow and frequent rainstorms was a partial answer as Colorado was not yet caught in the drought which would consume the West at the turn of the century.

After studying the lay of the land and my topo map, I saw a potential steep scrambling route to the ridge separating East and West Partner Peaks. Kathy didn’t want any part of it and I assured her I’d do the round trip in three hours.

Sometimes what appears obvious from a distance is more complicated at closer inspection and my tedious climb took longer than expected. My confidence dwindled as I worked my way up loose rock, slowly negotiating obstacles, and pulling myself over boulders.

The final gnarly ridge to West Partner summit made me tremble due to the exposure. Moving with great caution, I took several deep breaths. Robert Ormes wasn’t kidding in his "Guide to Colorado’s Mountains," that “the major hazard in the Gores is often rotten rock for which great care rather than a rope is the answer.”

Clouds billowed and darkened, but didn’t bring rain or lightning as I beheld a jagged world of rock, narrow ridges and precipitous unnamed summits.

An unnamed lake on the trail to Eaglesmere Lake reflects sub-alpine forest.

Knowing that I couldn’t relax until I rejoined Kathy at Pitkin Lake, I slowly returned via my treacherous ascent route after only a few minutes of summit time.

"The Hiker’s Guide to Colorado" by Caryn and Peter Boddie rates the Rock Creek Trail as easy and casually mentions an option of “continuing along the ridge to the summit of 13,085-foot Keller Mountain.” This guide also states that in this wild ocean of glacial-sculpted Gore peaks, Keller is the only summit having a name.

Kathy and I figured this would be an ideal hike in July 1993 on which to take some folk-musician friends. Feeling like we were on a tranquil path leading to heaven, the four of us strolled through a soft green aspen forest on a Jeep road, paralleling Rock Creek and its numerous beaver ponds, through a unique bird sanctuary, and up a foot path to the crumbling Boss Mine ruins.

Above the mine, we were soon in an unseasonably large snowfield, but I didn’t mind for I was just getting warmed up. However, the other folks minded and after trudging in snow just above timberline, I became a climbing party of one as Kathy and the others descended to the comforts of the forest.

“Be safe,” Kathy said supportively.

Seldom had I ever felt so alone and vulnerable, yet so alive as on that day in the elemental and raw Gore mountains.

Though I felt energized, I retained my sense of caution while working my way along a narrow ridge and over two high 12'ers, using the utmost care over loose rock and unstable snow.

Exposure was great and drop-offs were precipitous on both sides of the ridge, but the heavens smiled warmly upon me with no hint of stormy weather.

Below me, lakes remained frozen with several glacially carved valleys locked in the embrace of heavy snow. This was a primeval world of snow-striped cliffs, terrifying ridges, blindingly bright snow fields, fierce pinnacles and cone-shaped summits.

The Gores are Colorado’s Alps, a silent world separate from the rest of the planet.

These were the same cathedral-like mountains I first viewed in 1973, feeling fear and anxiety at the thought of being in them. Twenty years later, fear and anxiety where replaced by respect and awe.

Being alone, yet not lonely, high in the spectacular Gore Range, presented me with a unique sense of freedom and oneness with creation.

It was as good as it gets when in the mountains. Recommended:

1. Guide to the Colorado Mountains, 8th Edition, written and published by Robert M. Ormes with the Colorado Mountain Club, pages 83-91, printed by Mountain West Printing and Publishing, Inc., 1986 (updated editions available)

2. Colorado Mountain Ranges, #2 in the Colorado Geographic Series, by Jeff Rennicke, pages 85-88, published by Falcon Press Publishing Co., 1986.

3. Colorado Mountain Hikes for Everyone, by Dave Muller, published by Quality Press, 1987, page 111, Buffalo Mountain. Other Gore hikes page 98 and 153. Updated edition available.

4. The Hiker’s Guide to Colorado, by Caryn and Peter Boddie, Falcon Press Publishing Co., 1991. Pages 180-187. Updated edition available.

5. The Summit Hiker, by Mary Ellen Gilliland, Alpine Rose Press, 1987. Gore Range section, hikes #26-36, pages 54-79.

6. Trails Illustrated Topo Map, #108: Vail, Frisco and Dillon, Colorado.

Pueblo West resident Greg McKulick has an extensive mountaineering resume and regularly shares his tales with readers.

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