LONGS PEAK DESCRIBED AND COMPARED

IN NORTH‑CENTRAL COLORADO, almost exactly half way between Canada Mexico, lies one of the nation's best known mountain peaks. It enjoys an imps position in the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains where it attracts the attention of great numbers of people who can see it from Denver and other nearby cities c the western edge of the Great Plains. In addition, Longs Peak is a central feature and the highest point in Rocky Mountain National Park. It thus dominates a rugged mountain area of unusual natural interest, which has a great summertime appeal to dwellers of the comparatively monotonous flatlands and of the hot and humid c Such advantages, together with its nearness, have caused the region to be developed into what is probably the nation's greatest area of mountain recreation. Thus many lovers of the out‑of‑doors stay long enough to become acquainted with Long’s Peak. Since no one can ride to the summit, and one does not get there by mere hiking but uses his hands as aids, it is likely that Longs is the most climbed of any fourteen‑thousand‑foot ,peak. Because of the ease and safety with which it may be climbed, it offers a wonderful initiation to high‑mountain climbing for the ordinary inexperienced person.

While its location has helped to make it famous, that is by no means all. The peak itself has character. It is rugged and severe. It is flanked by distinctive cliffs on all sides instead of by gentle slopes up which roads may be built. Longs Peak dominates. It is a challenge to those with red blood. It is of good repute among skilled climbers. It is never twice alike. The lighting effects, the clouds which hover near it, the storms which play about it, the seasons, and the viewpoint are frequently changing. It is like having a continuous outdoor show for one's amusement; an art gallery for one's appreciation. Whittier truly said,

"Touched by alight that hath no name, a glory never sung,

Aloft on sky and mountain wall are God's great pictures hung."

Longs Peak is higher than Pikes Peak (14,110) which is only thirty‑second among Colorado's fifty‑three peaks over fourteen thousand feet high. Longs Peak itself (14,255) is fifteenth among Colorado's host of high mountains which number more than five times as many as the nine contained in the Alps. However, Colorados highest peak, Mt. Elbert (14,431), is only a hundred and seventy‑six feet higher than Longs and has less individuality. All of the fourteen‑thousand‑foot peaks of the' entire Rocky Mountain System are south of Longs Peak in Colorado.

Mt. Whitney (14,495 in California) is the highest peak in the continental United States. Like Longs, is has a great precipice on its east face, but it has trails up either side by which one may ride a horse to the very summit. Thirteen other peaks above 14,000 feet are found in California, but no other state has any excepting Mt. Rainier in Washington (14,410). Compared with Longs, this last is a mile higher above its base. Rainier is more massive, and being in a region of much heavier snowfall, it has twenty‑eight glaciers on its flanks. Mt. Rainier thus offers an example of another type of climb on snow and ice with which that of Longs can not easily be compared, but neither can such a peak be compared with Longs in regard to rock climbs on walls of granite. Longs Peak is less than half as high as Mt. Everest (29,028), the highest in the world. All elevation figures give heights above sea I

THE STORY OF LONGS PEAK

The story of Longs Peak has many chapters. The longest chapter, if fully told, would be the geologic story. Briefly, Longs was carved out of an older, level‑topped mountain, largely by the action of glaciers during the ice age. Working on the four sides, they left four steep faces, separated by four ridges each of which runs out to a buttressing neighbor peak. Mt. Meeker (13,911) on the south‑east ridge is the highest. Then follow Pagoda (13,491) on the south‑west ridge, Storm Peak (13,335) on the north‑west ridge, and Mount Lady Washington (13,269) on the north‑east ridge. Thus the peak is four‑square.

Due to an active glacier and the vertical cleavage of the rocks, Mills Glacier cut the most impressive cirque or chasm by the East Face leaving a sheer drop of some 1,675 feet and gouging another six hundred feet to make a depression for the present Chasm Lake. Such massive solid granite is not volcanic. Neither was it lifted up in a sudden upheaval. The elevation was a slow process through ages of time, and so too has been the carving process as one can imagine while beholding this impressive sight. "Our mountains are but ruins of former vastly greater mountains," some one has said.

The Indians doubtless had their stories of the peak. They called Longs and Meeker, Nesotaieux, the Two Guides, for from the south and east the two peaks make a double land mark. The Indians climbed from the south, or Wild Basin side, as related by old Indians who were brought back to the region in 1914 after being away since boyhood. They told of an eagle trap on the top which consisted of a covered pit in which an Indian crouched. Nearby was a stuffed coyote and tallow for bait to attract the eagles, which were seized by the feet and captured for their feathers.

The first white men to see Longs Peak may have been the members of the party of a French trader who reached the base of the mountains on the Platte River July 20, 1799. (Colorado's Story, by Dr. Frank C. Spencer, 1930. Page 60) French traders and trappers were in the region at times thereafter and left their names on some of the streams. Of course they had a name for the most prominent landmark, for they called Longs and Meeker, "Les Deux Oreilles", ‑"The Two Ears".

Major Stephen H. Long's official exploratory expedition is credited with the first written account of viewing Longs Peak on June 30, 1820. They saw it from the plains to the eastward, but continued up the course of the South Platte River and made no close approach. The name Longs Peak appears on maps as early as 1825, but it was not named on the expedition.

In 1864 W. N. Byers and a Mr. Velie made attempts to climb Longs Peak via the Keyhole and via Mt. Meeker, on the summit of which they found the names of five previous climbers. Byers expressed the thought that it would take wings to reach the summit, but four years later he was a member of a party which approached from Grand Lake and finally climbed Longs from the south via the Homestretch as the Indians may have done.

This party was led by Major John W. Powell, one‑armed veteran of the Civil War, who the following summer succeeded in making the first boat trip thru the Grand Canyon. The group started from Grand Lake. After they had tried the approach over Pagoda and failed, and had established a camp for the night at timberline in Wild Basin, Keplinger scouted the Peak alone. He went thru the Notch and made a close approach to the summit, but turned back and did not reach camp until ten o'clock. The next morning the seven reached the top via the Homestretch. The following is taken from Keplinger's account.

"One incident may be mentioned. Major Powell, though one‑armed, insisted o;1 doing his stint the same as the rest, even in 'packing.' At the camp where we left our horses he said, 'This is my time to make the bread.' I insisted on taking his place but he would not consent. I carry with me always the picture of the major paddling with his one hand in the sticky dough. But he made the biscuits, such as they were. When we put our names in the can, one of these biscuits was put in also, with the statement that this was placed in the can as an everlasting memento to Major Powell’s skill in bread making.' As we were about to leave the Major thought that was up to the dignity of the occasion, and the biscuit was taken out. We insisted t real reason was he did not want future generations to know how poor a bread maker so good a mountain climber was. The biscuit was of the kind which when cut with a sharp knife would show a fine‑grained, smooth, dark‑colored surface. Candor compels me to say that the biscuit would not have been different if he had take his place.

"As we were about to leave the summit Major Powell took off his hat and made a little talk. He said, in substance, that we had now accomplished an undertaking in the material or physical field which had hitherto been deemed impossible, but that there were mountains more formidable in other fields of effort which were before us and expressed the hope and predicted that what we had that day accomplished was but the augury of yet greater achievements in such other fields."

The first one to feel a continued attachment for Longs Peak was the Rev. Elkanah J. Lamb. In 1871 he climbed the Peak and made the first descent of the East Face (Notch Couloir, Broadway and Lambs Slide), a feat that was repeated only in the next fifty years (Enos A. Mills in 1903) and by very few others to date. In 1878, Lamb established his home and accommodations for climbers in Tahosa Valley where Longs Peak Inn now stands. From here, he not only guided visitors up Longs Peak at $5.00 per trip, but rode great distances on horseback to conduct services in various frontier settlements. After seven years his son Carlyle took over the guiding

Lamb reveled in rugged outdoor living and enjoyed nature in all its moods. As one reads his "Autobiography" and "Miscellaneous Meditations", one is impressed with the fact that here was a true pioneer who deserves much credit for his early influences.

Enos A. Mills, the famous author and lecturer, purchased the Lamb property in 1902. After it burned in 1906, he rebuilt it in extreme rustic style using fire killed timbers of interesting shapes and design. Mills made thorough preparation for guiding, including forty climbs to the top and intensive study of features of interest, before he felt qualified. Then he told of nature along the way so ably and enthusiastically that he has come to be known as the father of nature guiding. By his writing and lecturing he did a great deal more to popularize the climb. Furthermore, it was largely through his foresight and efforts that Rocky Mountain National Park itself was established. This resulted in bringing many more visitors to the area and increasing interest in Longs Peak.

In 1907, Mills in need of help, selected Shep Husted, W. A. Gray, and Alva Jones as guides. These and many others who followed them carried on Mills traditions. Shep guided until the middle thirties. He typified everyone's idea of the old time, veteran guide, and conducted famous personages, among them Otis Skinner and Edna Ferber. Husted wrote the following: "Mr. Mills did more to create an interest in mountain climbing than anyone else in the Park. From 1888 to 1906, the years he was guiding, the trips up Longs Peak increased from five or six parties a season to seventy-five or eighty. He created an interest in children climbing the peak and took up a number of small children himself. It is recorded in 1922 that more than a thousand people reached the summit of Longs.

"I went to the Inn in 1907 and was with Mr. Mills three summers. He sent me with men to work on the Longs Peak trail when I was not guiding and the trail was practically maintained by Mr. Mills up to the time the national park was created. Mr. Mills made few guiding trips up the peak after 1906, as he was devoting much time to writing. But he trained many peak guides; and through his nature talks and his continued development of 'nature guiding' on special trips with his guests afield, he aroused in mountain climbers a keener appreciation for the enjoyment of nature."

From 1908 through 1924 Timberline Cabin, initially operated by Enos Mills, served as a stopping point and shelter, or base, for an early start. In late 1926, Boulderfield Shelter Cabin was built by the government, and beginning in 1927, was operated by Robert Collier, Jr., another well‑known guide. This gave an opportunity for one to stay over night and acclimate himself far up the mountain side for the final climb, which was made in early morning before the frequent mid‑day storm. Guides were also available. By 1936 the stone walls of this building were cracked so badly that it was condemned, and the next year demolished. This was partly due to local melting of persistent ice under the rocks of Boulderfield. The former stable room, and rest rooms remained until 1954.

85,461 names have been counted in the summit registers since they were first placed by the Colorado Mountain Club on July 18, 1915. A careful estimation of those who may have climbed on the missing dates will add another 1,900. It is likely that enough climbed, but did not sign, to bring the total up to 91,500 since the above date, and the grand total of climbers is probably around 102,500. Of this figure, perhaps over 84,500 are different people and the remaining trips were by guides and other repeaters. Some test‑counts indicate that about one‑fifth of the climbers were women. 4,064 climbs have been tallied for the East Face, most of which have been since World War II. Climbers came from all states and many countries.

Some changes in climbing habits over the years may be noted. In 1915 and 1916 about three‑fourths of the climbers went with guided parties and all were by the Keyhole Route. In 1931 at the height of Boulderfield Shelter Cabin days, about onefourth went with guides and most used the cable route for the ascent. In 1952, guides and their parties accounted for only eleven per cent of the total and over half of the guided trips were by the East Face. There were more moonlight and sunrise parties in the early days, and about 40% rode horseback to Boulderfield, whereas about 1 °/ do so now. In the first years of definite records, one out of every 220 to 270 who went thru the entrances to Rocky Mountain Park, climbed to the summit. In 1931 it was one out of every 128. Then the trend started to reverse and in the last few years it was only one out of every 1,000 or so. One may blame this on the increase in automobiles, the discontinuance of Boulderfield Shelter Cabin or anything that one chooses, but it is regrettable that so large a number miss this wonderful experience which many consider as one of the greatest days of their lives.

Over the years there has been a great shift of interest among those guiding and climbing on Longs Peak. Whereas this was once the greatest area of high‑mountain,. informative, nature guiding, the emphasis has now shifted almost entirely to rock climbing in which the peak is again supreme. As Ormes points out, "Longs Peak, and specifically the East Face of the peak, has the nation!!s greatest concentration of high country rock routes."

The change from mountain appreciation to crevice clinging has not been without some disadvantages. The former had a wider, if more casual, appeal and could not be so directly blamed for various fatalities.

PREPARATION FOR CLIMBING

For most then, the Peak is an object observed from the roads or from a distance. Nevertheless, there is a great deal of interest in what the climb is like and the following pages will attempt to describe it. Those who have no hope of making the actual climb, may gain their experience second‑hand, while those who expect to climb should be well prepared beforehand.

Besides reading the suggestions which follow, one should read the "National Park Service Regulations Which Should Be Known By Those Who Climb Longs Peak." These are given among the addenda near the last of this booklet. Furthermore, it will be helpful to discuss your climb ahead of time with the ranger on duty at the Ranger Station at the foot of the east trail. He can answer your questions and tell you about snow conditions on the trail at the time.

The most essential preparation is to get in good physical condition. One should not consider Longs Peak until he has made some other high mountain trips. The best way is to start on easy ones and gradually work up to fairly long climbs at high altitudes. Then one will be more sure of himself and he can really enjoy doing Longs Peak. Such persons may be contrasted with about one out of ten of those who seriously attempt the summit, but never get there, and an even higher percentage of those who make it, but suffer the discomforts of over‑exertion, or mountain sickness to too great an extent. Conditioning is especially necessary for those who habitually follow the policy, "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not walk."

It will be most difficult to make one understand just how hard the trip is, or how easy. One may over‑estimate it, or he may under‑estimate it, until he has found out by trying. Then it will be hard to tell another, because one is apt to paint it as too hard or too easy depending upon how it affected him. The Peak has been climbed by five‑year‑olds, and by an eighty‑five‑year‑old. It was climbed by Mrs. E. J. Lamb when she was seventy. It has been climbed by cripples on crutches, and all alone by women and by a school girl. At sixty‑three, H. L. Higby, guide, climbed on foot all of the way from Hewes‑Kirkwood on three successive days and got all members of his parties to the top.

Only two have ever been seriously injured by a fall or a slip on the regular routes during the summer climbing season. However, one's hands will be needed and probably his knees for steep pitches. Some will consider themselves uncomfortably close to the edge of great drops, but they will get along all right like thousands of others. The illustrations show, of course, the most spectacular and difficult places One does not need to hang over great drops with only scanty hand and foot holds nor does he even need to look over an edge. Some have partly spoiled their trip by being overly concerned before hand, and then they have found that the bad places are not nearly so bad as imagined. It is perfectly all right to trim your toenails the night before. You won't have to hang on that tight.

More frequent difficulties will be found in adjusting one's self to the altitude or in summoning sufficient endurance to make the climb and return home. It is a long way back when one is exhausted. Taking these things and his own experience into account, one must make up his own mind about climbing. If a cripple and an eighty‑five‑year‑old can do it and walk all of the way, one should at least be able to do it with the help of a horse, that is, if he has not let his body age far beyond his years. It is not so much that the Peak is hard. The difficulty lies in the poor physical condition of many who attempt it. It is a great experience and one may be sorry that he missed it. It will be worth all of one's efforts and the day will be well spent, even if he turns back before reaching the top. One should be willing to turn back rather than delay the rest of the party. There are two regular routes to the end of the horse trail on Boulderfield, and two routes from Boulderfield to the summit by which one climbs over the rocks on foot, without benefit of constructed trail.

One of the horse trails starts north of the peak at the Glacier Gorge Parking Area on the Bear Lake Road about a mile below Bear Lake. It follows the Loch Vale Trail for a mile or more and then branches to the left. It climbs thru miles of forest land burnt over by the great fire of 1900, and emerges above timberline on the slopes of Battle Mountain. Following these slopes, it joins the other trail at Granite Pass after which the route for the two trails is the same for the remaining mile and a half to the end of the constructed trail on Boulderfield. This north trail starts at an elevation of about 9,200 feet and its length to Boulderfield is 8.9 miles. It is much less popular, longer, and has less variety and interest along the way.

The other trail starts east of the Peak at the Longs Peak Ranger Station at an elevation of 9,530 feet and is 7.2 miles to the center of Boulderfield. See map.

Besides deciding which trail is more convenient to take, one should decide whether or not to ride horses and if he should take a guide. Horses rent for $12.50 or more dollars a day, and can save one's energy so that he may enjoy the final climb to a greater extent, and also make the long trip home more easily. Furthermore, they will allow one to see much more as he rides, for he does not need to watch his feet and the trail so closely. Since the trail is all up or down hill, the usual pace is a walk which is not nearly so liable to make a novice stiff and sore. If a good horseman takes the lead, the other horses will usually follow without any difficulty unless they find that their riders will let them loaf or eat along the way. If so, a contest will ensue to see which is boss. It is best to make them keep up from the start and not let them get any ideas.

At Boulderfield, the horses should be tied with the halter ropes provided, their bridles should be removed and hung over the saddlehorn, and their cinches should be loosened. Before mounting for the return, one must be sure that the cinches are re‑tightened, and that the animal doesn't have a chance to take off down the trail before his bridle is on. From this it will be seen that if one takes horses, a wrangler or a guide will be a helpful fellow to have along.

A guide to the top is of value for added safety, for knowing the best climbing pace, for saving time in many ways, for peace of mind, and for information which he can impart along the way. Parties without guides often go too fast at the start and several members play out before they get to the top, or else the party may enjoy the day and their rests too much and find themselves returning after dark. The guide is in charge of the party and should be obeyed. He should set the pace and that means no one should get ahead of him unless invited to do so. Neither should any one drop out of the party until he has consulted the guide and gotten instructions as to what to do. The above remarks apply concerning the leader of any party, whether he is a professional guide or a friend with more experience who has been up before. The National Park Service issues licenses to qualified guides and will supply up‑to‑date information concerning them and their rates.

The trip to Chasm Lake is in itself a wonderful experience and enough of an outing for many. There, the rock‑bound setting makes one feel that he is in a different world apart and provides some feeling of the austere nature and greatness of Longs Peak. Some go for pictures; others to fish. Although one cannot ride all of the way to Chasm Lake, it can be combined as a side trip with a horseback ride ending at Boulderfield.

The nearest places for renting saddle horses are Columbine Lodge and Swiss Village. A phone call to 586‑3905, reaches the same livery for both. A wrangler guide, as distinguished from a climbing guide, will accompany horseback parties. They are not licensed to go beyond Chasm Lake or Boulderfield.

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Arrangements for guides and horses should be made in advance and should include an understanding of what is to be done in case of unfavorable weather before the starting time. Mountain weather is changeable and hard to predict and especially when reservations and several people are involved, it is generally best to make a start as planned and see what develops. A gloomy morning may be the prelude to a wonderful day above the clouds. John Kiernan said, "Bad weather always looks much worse thru a window." However, those who are climbing independently or are planning a difficult route would be wise to wait for a better day

About 99% of climbers make the entire trip on foot either for economy or by preference. A good hiker can make better time than the average horseback party Furthermore, it is easier to stop for pictures or to converse along the way. A guide is not needed by persons with some mountain experience if this book serves a purpose for which it is intended, or especially if one goes with some one who has been up before. It is quite likely that from the middle of July until Labor Day, there will be other climbing parties within sight in case one needs assistance. Furthermore, special rangers are assigned to look after Longs Peak and its climbers.

Starting time is another important factor to be planned ahead. Although the trip may be made in eight or ten hours, the average time is probably nearly eleven hours. Harold Dunning reports being out over eighteen hours with one party an Cliff Higby reports that it took him and his father (both guides) twenty‑four hours to get one man to the top and back. One should also consider the summer weather which is frequently clear in the morning, but develops a thunderstorm by mid‑afternoon. It is thus to one's advantage to reach the summit before a storm develops. Not only will he be more comfortable and have a better view, but the danger from lightning is lessened. Taking these things into account, one can see the advisability of an early start and should leave the foot of the trail by five or six o'clock. Daylight saving time used throughout.

One's equipment should include comfortable, stout shoes with low heels; not oxfords. Much of the difficulty which some people have in crossing the uneven rocks of Boulderfield is due to improper footwear. One should obtain shoes that are large enough for two pairs of socks and so that his foot can accommodate itself to different slanting positions upon the rocks. Composition soles are best for the dry rock which predominate. In early season and when there is much snow, shoes with lug soles are best. Leather soles are dangerously slippery.

Additional equipment should include a jacket or raincoat which will shed water, gloves for wet, cold rocks when it storms, a hat for protection from hail and rain, for shading the eyes, and for protecting the face from the fiercely burning rays of the sun, dark glasses, and warm enough clothes for a cold wind or storm. However, one should not over burden himself with clothes. Saddle slickers are furnished with horses, but they are too cumbersome to carry beyond Boulderfield, and too Iong for climbing over the rocks in safety. No matter what one takes, the day may bring cold moments when he wishes he had more, and yet most of the day he may be warm and wish he had less to carry. One should usually climb in no more than one shirt and avoid perspiration which may chill one in the cold wind at the summer after he has ceased to exert himself. Some member of the party should carry a first aid kit and flashlight. A sun burn preparation on the face, and perhaps the hands before one starts, will be of more aid than after he gets back. Someone has written,

"The girl who incandescent glows

Where sun and rain have kissed her,

Is less alluring to her beaux

When she begins to blister."

One should get up in time to eat breakfast leisurely. If one drives to the foot of the trail, or if he rides horseback, he will have time for his breakfast to be quite well digested before high altitude and exertion stop the process. However, if one is to start hiking right after eating, it is better to eat a light breakfast. Even though one seems quite empty on the upward trail, it is better to save the lunch until the summit is reached. One's body will have enough to do to get there without having to digest food along the way. Hard sugar candy which needs no digestion may be carried for quick energy and eaten enroute.

A sack lunch should be taken, but its contents may vary a great deal because of individual preferences. Until one has found out that he can eat well on a hard climb, it is better to take a light lunch. There is no water on top and something in liquid form or juicy fruit may be enjoyed. Except for the water which drains from the toilet on Boulderfield, and perhaps that in the Trough, the running water along the way will be all right to drink. At the edge of Boulderfield, one may find small streams from sources to the left that are suitable for drinking. The great danger of drinking cold water on a climb comes from drinking too much at one time. One swallow at each drinking place will keep one from getting thirsty and will not be harmful. One may avoid carrying water, if he watches to take advantage of that along the way, unless he is to spend time on a difficult rock route.

One should not attempt the climb alone and it is well to avoid large parties. The party should be kept together, or else definitely split with an understanding about what each group intends to do. Until such an agreement is reached, it is the responsibility of the faster members of the party to hold themselves back to the pace of the slower members. They should not allow themselves to get ahead and then have to wait. It is imperative that no slow member be left behind and alone on the return trip.

THE TRAIL TO BOULDERFIELD

Now we are ready to start. We shall meet early at the Longs Peak parking area and get acquainted. Reference may be made to the map and the illustrations as we climb along. This arm‑chair trip is guaranteed not to make muscles sore, nor blister a nose, and it is hoped that it will make it easy for many to enjoy the trip whether or not they can actually climb.

At the foot of the trail there is a register box where we are asked to leave our names, the time, our route and destination. This information is of aid to the Longs Peak Ranger in case of real or supposed emergency. We should not fail to "sign out" on the register and' write down the time of day as we return.

About two and a half miles up the trail we emerge from the thick forest into an area burned by a forest fire in 1900. If the day is clear, dark glasses should be donned, for the air is thin and the sun's rays are brilliant without the shade of the trees to break their glare. Timberline conditions are now in evidence, for the slope ahead was so wind‑swept, even before the fire, that the trees were unable to grow straight. Their grotesque skeletons still stand, twisted and gnarled, weird ghosts of the former "struggling" forest. Of particular interest are the two erect, but short, banner trees close to the left of the trail. The strong, prevailing westerly winds have permitted only the branches on the eastward, lee side to grow. Look between them as you pass by to get the full effect.

From this windswept hill, we get our first good view of the plains beyond the foothills. The town of Longmont (Pop. over 28,000) may be discerned as a dark patch to the right of Twin Sisters Mountain. Also visible by reflected morning light are several lakes or reservoirs. In afternoon light the sugar factory and flour mills may be seen.

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Some distance beyond the next switchback, the trail passes through a sheltered little hollow a bit deeper than one's height. A glance at the crest of this hollow shows dwarfed aspen trees and sub‑alpine fir with blunt needles. A study of other nearby shrubs and shrubby growths reveals limber pine with needles in bunches of five, Engelmann spruce with single, stiff, sharp needles, alpine birch with round bright shiny leaves, an alpine willow with longer pale green leaves, and shrubby cinquefoil with small leaves subdivided into five leaflets. Elsewhere dwarf juniper might be seen. These are the trees and shrubs which one is likely to find at timberline on Longs Peak. Watch and listen here too for the white‑crowned sparrow who says "I'm GLAD you‑came‑to‑see‑me."

Just beyond this little hollow, the wind has swept the ground quite barren of trees and shrubs except for one prostrate limber pine to the left, which has been able to start in the shelter of a small boulder. This tree is perhaps twelve feet long but only eighteen inches high and has been wind‑trimmed like a hedge and conforms to the shape of the rock. It shows how constant is the direction of the strong winds. It is like a grave with its headstone. How would you like to lie in such a grave with the wind for a constant caretaker, and continually whispering about far off places, or loudly informing you of the weather?

A short distance beyond, a trail turns to the right and crosses Alpine Brook toward the site of the former Timberline Cabin and then turns westward toward the Jims Grove Camp Site. Hikers often use this trail which short cuts up the mountainside; however, we shall follow the regular trail up Mills Moraine and get the wonderful views of the East Face and the great chasm in the morning light as we move toward them.

As we approach the moraine, we may spot several additional examples of trees trimmed to fit the rocks which shelter them. At the crest of the moraine, we look down its steeper slope beyond, which was in contact with the ancient glacier. A thousand feet below, the rather broad valley floor drained by Roaring Fork, is a jumble of huge boulders left in irregular heaps by the retreating glacier. Across the gorge may be seen, but less distinctly, the other lateral moraine left on the opposite flank of the glacier. These moraines are ridges of ground‑up rocks and boulders which were carved from the mountainside and carried and pushed aside to their present position by a huge mass of glacial ice which filled, and slowly moved along the valley.

Look ahead at the chasm carved from the flanks of Longs Peak and Mt. Meeker. There was the catchment basin where wind piled the snow in the shelter of the Peaks. There it settled, packed to ice, and moved downward, tearing away rocks and grinding them as it did so. There it left the great chasm or cirque as it diminished. Do not fail some time to take the left‑hand trail at the fork ahead and visit Chasm Lake The foot trail stops at the Chasm Lake Shelter Cabin, two or three hundred feet below the Lake. One then climbs on foot following a break in the rocks leading upward behind the cabin. It is doubtful if any lake rests in a more awe‑inspiring setting. Chasm Lake can not be seen from the trail, but one can see Peacock Pool from near the trail fork, and above the Lake is Columbine Fall. We should be on Mills Moraine before eight o'clock.

ALPINE LIFE

Continuing to the right on the Longs Peak Trail, we soon come to a greener swale along the side of Mount Lady Washington where rivulets of water trickle across the trail. Watch here and the rest of the way to Boulderfield for the ptarmigan (the p is silent), a small grouse‑like bird colored and mottled so nearly like the gray boulders strewn about, that he is likely to just sit and let you go by unseeing. In winter they are white and protectively colored against the snow. Watch also from here on for the pipit or wagtail, a small buff‑colored bird which shows light outer tail feathers when he flies. Possibly here, but more likely farther on, will be found the rosy finch, a brownish sturdy little bird with dark rose showing on the shoulders and rump.

These birds, and the plants among the rocks are arctic‑alpine. That is, they live on the mountain tops above timberline (alpine) and also in identical or similar forms in the arctic regions beyond timberline to the northward, where the climatic conditions are similar in regard to severity. Carl Sharsmith aptly expressed the thought that our mountain tops are climatic islands of arctic life and conditions. Boy, you have traveled the equivalent of along way north since you had your breakfast.

Here too we should begin to watch for the cony and the marmot. The cony, or pika, is like a six‑inch rabbit but with round ears and no tail. He is likely to be seen scampering among the rocks, or more likely to be noticed sitting on a rock, while his metallic warning squeak is heard. If in late season, one may be seen carrying a mouthful of green foliage to cure and place in his hay pile for winter use. The marmot, or mountain form of ground hog, may attract our attention by his sharp, loud warning whistle. He is grizzled brown, larger than a cat, and has a bushy tail and an awkward gait. He may be seen even on the very top of Longs Peak.

The tiny, brilliant alpine flowers may cover the ground between the boulders, but they are too numerous to cover here. Many of them grow in low mats such as the alpine pink, colored true to its name, the blue alpine phlox and the white sandwort, all with numerous tiny blossoms. A yellow, five‑petaled flower, the alpine avens, grows in larger clumps and on stems which may be six inches tall. So also does the alpine sunflower, a blossom of which may be three inches across and that far above the ground. The flowers that one sees will depend upon the time of season, for their blooming period is short. The alpine flowers are best about the second week in July and are quite gone on the drier slopes by the third week in August.

The trail crosses the north ridge of Mount Lady Washington next to Battle Mountain at Granite Pass. Here it is joined by the trail from the Bear Lake side and here we get our next great change of view, for now we see the eastern slopes of the Front or Rampart Range and' of the Mummy Range. Bearing to the left, we ascend the slope toward Longs Peak. After a few zigzags, we are able to see the North Face of Longs Peak across the comparatively level upland basin called Boulderfield. Countless boulders of all sizes are strewn about. We should aim to be here by nine o'clock.

BOULDERFIELD

The trail winds among the boulders to the very center of the area and stops at a hitching rack for ten or twelve horses. Nearby was a telephone and a sealed chest of equipment for emergency use only. This was the site of the former Boulderfield Shelter Cabin, rest rooms and stable, now crumbled by the elements. To the left, or eastward, the rocky surface of Boulderfield turns upward to the summit of Mount Lady Washington. We have come around this mountain and are now behind it as compared with our starting point. To the right or westward is Storm Peak. Just to the left of the low place between Storm Peak and Longs Peak, a huge rock overhanging from the left forms the Keyhole. Ahead lies the summit of Longs Peak a mile away. At times one may see a climber on top silhouetted against the sky. To the left of the summit is the top of the East Face, as smooth and as perpendicular as if a great knife had sliced away a section. There, at the point where view of the East Face is cut off by the ridge which connects with Mount Lady Washington, is Chasm View.

Now we again have our choice of two routes. The older one proceeds throe the Keyhole, turns to the left where we cannot see it on the west side of the Peak and traverses the Ledges or Shelf where one climbs up for a time, and then has to descend and lose altitude, the bane of all mountain climbers. The way ascends again in the long Trough turns the corner to the south side of the Peak, goes along the Narrows, and finally up the Home Stretch to the top. This route is perhaps a half mile longer in distance and an hour longer in climbing time than the more direct way up the North Face. It gives one more variety of viewpoints and is the more conservative route. About 15% of summit climbers go up by this route.

The North Face offers the more direct way by the Cable Route. A danger of the North Face consists in 'the ice and snow which may cover a part of the way in early or late season. After the snow has melted enough to make it safe, the most usual climb is to go up this way and down by the Keyhole. Let us do it that way, and let us start on without wasting time.

Just after leaving the old stable site and a little to the right, we may reach a cup down between the boulders and get running water for a drink.

We start on slowly, especially if we have ridden horses, for in that case we are less adjusted to the high altitude. The way is now more difficult for there is no trail. We simply pick our own route as we go, over boulders and around them. We are unaccustomed to such walking and we are likely to hold ourselves too tense as we try to balance ourselves on the irregular surfaces or edges of the boulders. We should therefore give our attention to relaxing and holding ourselves down to a leisurely pace or we shall soon be breathless. Long and high steps should be avoided for they take more energy and make it more difficult for one to keep his balance. Just relax and mosey along like a Sunday afternoon stroll. We'll save time and energy in the long run, for we shall not wear ourselves out so fast, nor need to rest so much. Rests should be short pauses only, preferably without sitting down, and without cooling the body.

One can relax a bit after each step. It is a mountain‑climbing trick that one will not master for several climbs, but it will give one all of the rest that he needs as he goes along. It is comparable to one's heart which rests a sizeable fraction of the time, but instead of stopping for a few hours to rest, it rests a bit after each beat and so may keep working steadily day and night for a century. Step and relax, step and relax, on we go.

Since we are not all experts, we shall pause now and then, keeping the party together. "Steady wins the race. See how far we have come? Well, let's have another spasm." And so on runs the guide's patter.

THE ROCKS OF THE PEAK

At the next pause, he may start with, "There are two kinds of rocks here: granite and schists. The schists are the darker colored, banded rocks. When the bands are close together as in these, they may be called schists, but if they are more coarsely banded, they may be called gneiss (pronounced just like nice). Schist and gneiss. One is schist as nice as the other!"

The group moves on as he continues. "This schist is metamorphic rock. It is made over. It was deep beneath the surface of the earth and great heat and pressure was applied to make it tend to run together or re‑melt. In still earlier times it may have been old sediments or old volcanic rock. Take a good look. You may never have seen any rocks that were older.

PLEASE NOTE: Cables removed July 20, 1.973,All non-technical climbers now advised to base the Keyhole Route, up & down.

"The schist was here before the granite. That reddish piece there is granite See, it is granular. It is made up mostly of crystals of quartz and of feldspar. The granite came in here as a molten mass in pre‑Cambrian times and cooled deep beneath the surface. This is known because of the size of the crystals. It takes a long time for the molecules to arrange themselves in such crystals. In general, the slower the cooling, the larger the crystals. This granite is porphyritic which means that some of the crystals are distinctly larger than the groundmass. In this case, there are wellformed feldspar crystals which show Carlsbad twinning as longitudinal divisions on the broken surfaces.

"See those great streaks of dark schist in the wall there ahead of us? See that area where the granite welled in and took over? See there where it pushed in between layers of schist? When that was done, it took great pressure because it was under layers of rock at considerable depth. Since then, this whole region has been lifted, not in any great upheaval, but in a long slow process, perhaps with many slips and earthquakes. As it was being raised, weather and erosion were constantly at work upon it. They have removed the top layers, carved out the mountains, and exposed the old core which we now see. It has taken about sixty million years to make these mountains. If they had raised steadily, that would take less than one inch per century to raise them more than twice as high as they now stand. Old levels were formed when the uplifting processes rested a few million years, and then the glaciers took over the last big sculpturing contract. It is a long story and might be made much longer, but meanwhile we have gone along way up this mountain."

After answering a few questions, the guide starts in all over. "There are two kinds of rocks around here‑big ones and little ones. 'Nuf said." Perhaps some climber makes a wise‑crack like, "I sure feel sheepish climbing over these rocks‑mountain sheepish."

AT CHASM VIEW

We go a little to the left to avoid a snow bank and at the same time have easier climbing on a section of solid rocks. We climb along a few ledges and look over the edge at Chasm View. We not only look over, but we look up as well at the great wall rising above us. We are somewhat nearer the top than the bottom of this great precipice. Below is Broadway, a ledge which extends across the cliff. It is used in climbing the East Face.

At the foot of the declivity lies a body of snow and ice, hardly a glacier, yet often called Mills Glacier. Far below and to the left is Chasm Lake, a deep, dark pool some thousand feet across. Between the ice and the lake is a quarter of a mile of broken rock, partly the work of the glacier, and partly the talus slope of debris tumbled down as a result of the attacks of weather upon the mighty cliff. Chasm Lake was gouged out by the glacier and is in no way a crater lake as used to be irmagined.

There is a convenient rock like a wall over which we may have leaned as we looked straight down. Then as we start along the edge toward the climb ahead, we notice that a crack has opened up, down which we can look and see green growth some five hundred feet below. This reveals that the edge is over‑hanging and being loosened from the main cliff. Play safe and stay away from the edge, especially with large parties. Tom Hornbein, who has climbed directly underneath Chasm View, reports that there is a large adjacent block just to the left or east which appears particularly unsafe and should be avoided. Light may be seen through the fissure between it and the main body of rock. Don't be the fool that rushes out where climbers fear to tread.

At Chasm View is a point of decision. The group is far enough along so that the leader should have been able to size up the individual members of the party. He should also take into account the time of day, the weather and the snow and ice conditions ahead. Then he should make up his mind whether or not all of the party can make the climb without undue discomfort or delay. If one leaves Chasm View after ten o'clock, it is late, unless the day is still fair.

Having reached a conclusion in his own mind, the leader may give some words of advice and explanation. He can point to the route ahead and indicate its nature. He can choose his words in order to discourage or encourage certain members of his party. He can well say that if anyone feels that he has had enough, now is the time for him to turn back. By doing so they will not inconvenience the party nor delay it. They can rest awhile and then make their way back to Boulderfield below, even alone. However, if they go on, the leader must either "drag" them on over the top, or see that some one accompanies them bacl< at least to Chasm View, for no one who becomes nervous or physically miserable should be allowed to descend the cable alone.

If the guide believes that some person should turn back, he may then let them proceed with the clear understanding that it is against his recommendation, or he may, when he thinks it necessary, compel them to return. The first death on the Peak resulted when a woman insisted on going on against the better judgment of her guide. However, the times when compulsion is resorted to should be rare. The writer once asked Shep Husted how he handled such cases and Shep replied about as follows. "Oh, I just talk them out of it. I ask them how they are feeling and suggest that they look a little white around the gills. I ask them what they had for breakfast, and shake my head, and after a time, they at least imagine that they are sick and drop out."

When one does turn back, it is necessary to have a clear understanding of just what he will do. Since such persons may slow up the party on the return, and since their wait is liable to be long and cold, it is better for them to work their way back in a leisurely manner. It is important on the return to be sure that they are ahead, so they must be cautioned to stay on the main trail. In addition, they may leave word or a signal at certain key points to show that they have passed by.

To the right, toward the Peak above, is a Park Service sign on a stone monument. It reads, "Roll no rocks." Not only should one refrain from the adolescent stunt of starting rocks in order to see them bound down the slope, but he should be sure that his feet or hands do not start loose rocks unintentionally. Just ahead it is steep enough that if a rock starts, it gains momentum as it bounds, downward. It in turn may start others. If rocks come down from above, and you can not get under an over‑hang for protection, then you must watch them continuously and dodge as best you may. If another party is climbing ahead, it is best to wait until they have advanced to the left from the upper cable and you are no longer beneath them.

By climbing conveniently close behind one another, each person can usually stop a rock which may be started by the climber just ahead, and before it gains momentum. This will greatly lessen the danger when the party is large. Fortunately, much "gardening" (loose rock removal) has already been done, so do not let fear spoil your fun. Mountain climbing is like life. If you worry about all of the hazards ahead, you ruin it. Just take it a step at a time.

CLIMBING THE NORTH FACE

As we start along, we shall alternate the men of the party with the women and children and secure the maximum amount of helpful assistance for those who may need it. Nevertheless, it should be everyone for himself as much as possible. Ladies may find that their arm and shoulder muscles are quite taxed, especially on the cable, by the gripping and pulling to which they are unaccustomed. In this case a man right behind can be an assuring factor, and some with a short reach may welcome a boost.

We proceed to the right of the "Roll no rocks" sign and start using our hands. We aim for a ledge fifty feet above, but our route may depend upon snow conditions. If the snow is quite gone, we cross toward the right and ascend an upwardslanting crevice. If there is much snow, we shall stay on the bare rocks and climb along a crack which leads directly toward the lower cable. If one does cross the snow, well‑formed steps should be made by the leader. The tread of such steps should slant inward and they should be not too far apart. A rope should be used for safety in early summer.

The lower cable starts from the above‑mentioned ledge. In order to reach it there may be more snow steps to make. In late season there may be a short stretch that is quite icy and an ice ax will be helpful for cutting the needed steps. The ice ax may also be useful for knocking away fresh smooth ice from beneath the cable where it freezes on cold nights from the trickle of water which runs down over the rocks.

The cable is best negotiated by a series of short pulls. There are good stopping places at short intervals where one may pause to rest, and then move on as the climbers ahead leave the way clear. The pitch of the rock is from forty‑five to somewhat less than sixty degrees, though it will seem like sixty.

At the top of the first cable, and until one has well passed the second cable, is the point at which loose rocks can be of greatest danger to those below. If the party is large enough to be strung out along the cable, those who reach the top of the cable should sit down quietly and wait without shuffling around, until all are up the cable. In addition, some one may be appointed to stand by the edge and caution each person as he leaves the cable, at the same time being alert to pounce on any rock or pebble that may be started.

When all are at the top of the first cable, we proceed up and to the left following a ledge for about forty feet. Then we zigzag back on a higher ledge aboLlt'the same distance and reach the foot of the second cable which is easily negotiated. Now we are ready to follow a ledge sloping upward and to the left. It soon becomes indistinct, but we continue on in the same direction into an area of great boulders and blocks among which, and around which, there is not a great deal of choice of routes. We bear to the left and upward picking whatever way seems easiest. In early season we shall make steps across some snowbanks and detour around others.

Just how long these snow banks may persist into the summer varies with weather conditions from year to year. With thawing and refreezing they become more icy as they get smaller. On an average year they are risky for inexperienced climbers until late July. Look for posted information at the lower register, or ask the ranger concerning snow conditions, before you start.

The most serious injury from a slip or fall on either regular trail occurred on a North Face snow bank. The following quotation from the ESTES PARK TRAIL of July 25, 1947, tells the story.

"A distance of three feet in either direction would have meant a fall of 1,000 feet and certain death for Donald Davidson of Staten Island, New York, last Monday morning, when with Mrs. Davidson, he was climbing the North Face of Longs Peak

"The two, both inexperienced mountain climbers, according to Park Service officials, were near the second cable when Davidson lost his hold and slid over a snow bank. Just at the edge of a precipice, with a drop of 1,000 feet below, Davidson hit a rock, the only one in the area.

"He suffered a broken shoulder and was in so much pain he was unable to make the trip down the Peak unaided. Mrs. Davidson went for help

"Five rangers, led by Acting Chief Ranger Ernest Field, left immediately for the scene of the accident.

"Upon reaching the injured man, it was found necessary to carry him on a stretcher to the Boulder Field, where he was placed on a horse for the remainder of the trip to the Longs Peak Ranger station, and finally brought to the Estes Park hospital for treatment, about 8 p.m. Monday evening."

A similar slip, but with a fatal ending may have been what happened to Aubuchon in 1921. The deduction by Cliff Higby, after Aubuchon had been missing for five weeks, that he had been climbing on the North Face and fallen over the East led directly to the discovery of his body. Inexperienced climbers should also be careful, or stay off of the North Face, when it is in fog. They are prone to go too directly up from the cable and enter an area of harder climbing and more danger of starting rocks on climbers below.

This is a time of enlarging views, but some are hardly conscious of them because: the climb itself takes all of their energy. Those who wish, may be allowed to go ahead and enjoy a longer stay on top. They should not speed ahead or try to get there first, for it is the highest part of the climb where over‑exertion is most likely to cause mountain sickness. The guide stays back to give needed encouragement and to be sure that no one develops trouble.

MOUNTAIN SICKNESS

And oh boy, that mountain sickness. It usually starts with a headache which proceeds into dizziness and nausea, and may result in losing whatever is in one’s stomach. It is like sea sickness, except that instead of feeding the fishes, one can only nourish the scenery. It is caused by insufficient oxygen in the body, which in turn is caused by the rare air of high altitude, together with the body's demands for extra oxygen due to exertion. We never do have enough oxygen or blood for all of our organs to be active at once. In climbing at high altitudes our muscles demand so much that the head and stomach, for example, have little left. One may feel light‑headed, and may empty his stomach. The body of the person who gets mountain sick is simply not able to adjust itself to the demands put upon it either due to lack of adaptability, or simply to poor physical condition. When one lives long enough in high altitude to acclimate himself, his blood develops more red corpuscles. Though each corpuscle must carry less oxygen at high altitudes, the greater number makes up for the deficiency.

When one is on a mountain top, it is too late to do much but suffer the discomforts. Rest helps, but afterwards the air is just as rare as it was before. To climb down takes more exertion, but it has to be done, in varying degrees of misery by the suffering patient, and with much patience by the other members of the group. Some recover quite well when they get below what for them is their critical altitude. Others may have a headache until after they have fallen asleep that night.

Mountain sickness has its many humorous angles. Some one said that he was feeling rather low to be so high. Some one else said, "Well, if there is anything in a person, mountain climbing will sure bring it out." One may be said to join the Daniel Boone Club. That is, he goes out and shoots his lunch. There are three stages. First, a person is afraid that he is going to die. Second, he gets so that he doesn't care if he does, and finally, he is afraid that he is not going to die.

"What should I do," asked the solicitous wife, "if John gets mountain sickness?"

"Don't worry. He'll do it," was the answer.

The story is told, that when one fellow was in the process of losing his lunch, he was asked, "What's the matter? Is Your stomach weak?"

The unfortunate fellow took another verifying look over the edge and reported, "Nope, I guess I'm throwing it about as far as any one ever did."

The things that can most practically be done about mountain sickness on a mountain top are a slow pace with rests, and administration of aromatic spirits of ammonia (Acrobatic spirits of come‑on‑yo). A few drops in part of a cup of water may be taken internally, or lacking convenient water, one may wet his tongue with it, smell the bottle or an inhalent capsule, or rub the liquid on his upper lip for convenient and continued smelling. Sometimes one may help a natural process by lying over a rock and tickling the back of his throat. Perhaps most important of all is to refrain from eating. Let the guide have your lunch. He may enjoy it. On feeling a headache, some are prone to take aspirin. It is this guide's experience that it only aggravates the case. Let it alone. Practice consciously taking two or three deep breaths for each step. This may help more than anything.

Dr. Henry Buchtel, M.D., an experienced Colorado climber and leader says, "The use of alcohol at any time during the trip cannot be too strongly condemned; its use means only trouble for the entire party."

In regard to climbing mountains, folks may be divided into four classes: those who do not even try; those who try, but do not get to the top; those who get to the flop, but can not eat their lunch; and those who get to the top and also enjoy their lunch.

STORMS AND CLOUDS

The time spent on top can literally be an hour of heaven when the day is mild and clear, or it can be a few moments of fog, storm, and chattering teeth. It may even be a time of danger on rare occasions when lightning is striking. At such times it is best to gauge one's time with the approaching storm and remain on the ice, side of the Peak until the storm has abated, or else hurry over the top ahead of it. Usually the storms come from the west which makes the western rim and ridges most hazardous. Fortunately the trails do not follow ridges to any great extent. Thunderstorms are likely to occur on the way home, so be wary around the edge of Boulderfield, near Granite Pass, and on Mills Moraine. If one should find himself in the neighborhood of lightning strikes, he should get in to the closest depression and lie down. Do not stay on a horse. Neither may it be safe to lead it. Tether the horse as best you can, perhaps by laying a large rock on the end of the reins. Then withdraw aways down hill and wait, and hope your horse does too.

Occasionally one encounters the phenomena of discharging static electricity. The Peak acts as a point of discharge for the surface of the earth and electricity flows into the air upon the approach of a thunder storm. The discharge may make one's hair stand up, or it may be strong enough to cause a crackling or buzzing sound especially from metal objects, but, also about one's head or an upraised finger. Although it may be followed by a storm, it is often of short duration and in itself is harmless. The experience, however, is memorable and incites great interest. Rev.Lamb wrote of "reveling in the luxury of an electric bath at the expense of nature.” Nevertheless, it is a warning of a dangerous situation. Lie down on the side of the summit, or of a projection, which is away from the direction from which the storm is approaching, or start hiking down.

The usual storms bring only fleeting discomforts that would soon be forgotten except that one likes to tell about them. To have weathered a storm is an added attraction of the climb. One should really be disappointed if he does not encounter a summer snow storm, for most of the precipitation at that altitude is snow or snow pellets. The experience makes one more closely in tune with the elements and more appreciative of the sheltered existence which he usually lives. Perhaps during a storm the group will enjoy singing the refrain, "You freeze a jolly good fellow." Or perhaps they will appreciate having the Biblical expression paraphrased, "Many are cold, but few are frozen."

VIEWS AND DOINGS ON TOP

Heavenly days on the top are those when the sun is shining and one can see for miles and miles: To Pikes Peak 103 miles in a straight line; to Mt. Evans, the Arapahoes, Fair Glacier, Grays and Torreys Peaks, Mt. Massive, Mt. of the Holy Cross, the Gore Range, Middle Park, the Flattops away over west, the Park Range, the Never Summer Mountains, the Medicine Bow Range into Wyoming, to mention the more notable or prominent features, and then there are numerous closer summits, valleys, gorges, and lakes, in addition. On a clear day the level horizon of the Great PIains may show clearly, with closer dark patches visible for Denver, Longmont, Loveland Fort Collins and Greeley. At night the lights of these cities, smaller towns, and numerous car headlights all show.

The distance to the horizon is about a hundred and twenty miles. This is figuring according to the formula which takes into account the earth's curvature, viz: distance seen in miles equals the square root of three halves of the difference in altitude. This latter figure is somewhat less than ten thousand feet. The total distance seen reaches about two‑thirds of the way to Kansas. It is possible to see into Nebraska and easy to see into Wyoming, but one may see only a bit more than half‑way to Utah and less than half‑way to New Mexico. The complete circle of visible land seen from the top of Longs is somewhat larger than the state of Ohio. If Long’s Peak were placed near Columbus, one could see into all of the neighboring states and Lake Erie. Placed at Philadelphia, one could see from Connecticut to Washington, D. C., if the air were ever clear enough in that region.

Seeing the distant view from the top is only one of the enjoyable things to do. One should not fail to peer down at Chasm Lake from the south‑east edge of the summit. We may go to the western edge of the four‑acre, flat but rocky, top of the Peak, and look down on Glacier Gorge. However, if pressed for time, we shall get much the same view as we descend the Trough.

Glacier Gorge is another great example of the work of glaciers, and is perhaps more typical. It is well rounded on the bottom, headed by a great cirque, or semicircular cliffs forming a headwall, contains several lakes, and leads out toward Bierstadt Moraine where much of the glacial debris was deposited. Starting at the head of Glacier Gorge, the following lakes may be seen. Unnamed Iceland and Italy are the first two small lakes recognizable by their shapes. Below them is Green Lake which is shaped like South America. Frozen Lake is partly hidden by great Spear Head jutting out into Glacier Gorge from Chief's Head. Blue Lake is closer to Longs, Black Lake in the bottom of the Gorge, and Shelf Lake in a good example of a hanging valley across the Gorge. On down the valley is Jewel Lake and just beyond it, the larger Lake Mills. Part of Lake Haiyaha can be seen some distance beyond, but Dream Lake and Loch Vale can not be seen. Nymph, Bear, and Bierstadt are the remaining lakes in that direction.

None of the Park glaciers may be seen from this point. An interesting story was told to the late Charles Hewes by a Mr. Holt of Chicago who related how he had received directions for climbing Longs Peak from Carlisle lamb in the early days. These directions included the possibility of seeing Hallett's Glacier (now called Rowe Glacier) from the Keyhole. Mr. Holt and his party looked in vain for Hallett's Glacier and failed to see it, though the day was clear. When they returned, they told Carlisle who drawled out, "Well I've never seen it myself, but I have pointed it out to a lot of folks and generally they could see it."

On days when the peak is closed in by fog and climbers feel that they are being gypped by lack of good view, a resourceful guide can easily point out Kansas City,

Chicago, Lake Michigan, and the Golden Gate Bridge. At least he can point in their direction and also include any other requested features.

In order to save time on a real climb, the lakes in Wild Basin are usually pointed out as the party descends, but for this work, they will be named now. Far across to the left and on a well‑timbered slope is Finch Lake. Nearest and most evident is Sand Beach Lake. To the right, with its far shore line in view is Thunder Lake. Above and around the shoulder of Mt. Tanima, is Eagle Lake. Beyond that and high up against the Continental Divide, is Junco Lake. The big, rounded mountain just beyond is Mount Copeland. Pikes Peak, if the day is sufficiently clear, may be seen directly over the left‑hand snow patch of two which persist on bald‑topped Meadow Mountain farthest left.

Some other activities are popular on top. Everyone wants to sign the register which is kept in a brass cylinder among the rocks of the topmost cairn. Most climbers wish to eat their delayed lunch, but if one does not feel well, he had better leave it. Anyone can benefit by a few minutes of looking and resting before eating, and if the day is mild, some will stretch out and relax after eating. Others take pictures or want their picture taken on the highest rock. We place our scraps and papers in a small garbage can near the cairn or else take them home. One more final thing before the take‑off: we should look around to see that no one has left anything. It is along way back from just a little way do,Nn. We should start down before one o'clock unless the day is fair.

THE DESCENT

The point of descent is marked with an arrow on a cairn. It leads off about straight south from the high point. The first section is The Home Stretch. The route descends over slanting slabs of granite with numerous cracks and crevices. With good footwear an experienced person may walk down without using his hands. However, most prefer to sit out this stretch. That is, they use their five‑wheel brakes, the seat being the fifth and most widely used in more ways than one. Before long, such persons may tie a sweater around their waist so that it will hang down and hide the see‑thru spot, or else they want to hang behind everyone else, or perhaps they will submit to an adhesive tape patch. Anyway, the safest way is to face outward and use a hand behind, or the seat, when the need is felt. One's feet are less likely to slip when he walks, if he leans forward as he descends with his knees bent, thus throwing his weight more perpendicularly to the rocks and securing more traction.

At the foot of the Home Stretch the route turns toward the right and traverses the Narrows. One of the dangers of climbing without a guide is the possibility that thick clouds may settle over the Peak and obscure all but a few feet of the route ahead. However, this danger is minimized by the fact that every fifty feet or so depending upon the terrain, there are colored bulls‑eyes about six inches across painted upon the rocks so as to show the route. These have yellow centers with red borders. One should not proceed along what he thinks is the way, unless he sees one of these markers ahead. There are no such markers except between the top and the Keyhole.

The Narrows look worse than they are. At places several may stroll abreast. At the narrower places there are good hand holds, but one may walk without using them. Over the edge is not a very high drop, although it is quite perpendicular. If one gets nervous, one may turn his attention to the lichens growing on the rock wall beside him. There are several kinds and shades of color. The formation of the Narrows was evidently caused by a great fault or slip of one part of the mountain in relation to the other part, perhaps even before it was a mountain.

Around the corner we start down the long Trough. If there is much snow, we’ll keep farther to the right which means that we shall have more of the slanting bare rock, especially near the top. For the most part, the Trough contains a great deal of loose rock and gravel, but it is not steep enough for them to gain great momentum. However, it is well to watch your footing and not disturb the loose ones, nor allow your ankle to be turned by one. If an ankle starts to turn, go limp. The danger of a rock rolling on another member of the party can be greatly checked by the standard method of zigzagging back and forth in such a way that the climbers are not usually directly above or below one another. Beware of stepping on a rock where it is covered by a little gravel. Your foot may slide surprisingly.

About a third of the way down and toward the right are some large light colored blocks containing a poor grade of garnets as dark circular masses up to two inches in diameter. Remember it is forbidden to take specimens in a National Park. Leave them for others to enjoy.

The Trough continues on down to the bottom of Glacier Gorge, but do not descend below the stone monument less than half‑way down where the trail leaves the Trough and goes to the right along the Ledges or Shelf to the Keyhole. The route follows a break in the rocks at the foot of the steeper cliffs. An unpleasantness lies in the fact that in order to get by some smooth and steeply inclined "boiler‑scale” rocks, we must climb upward a hundred feet or so and then back down. The way has its attractiveness, however. It lies along another fault plane which clearly shows slickenside, or rocks which have been smoothed or polished by the movement of rock against rock along the cracks under great pressure. Furthermore, this is the most likely place along the way to find the sky pilots, a blue alpine polemonium flower and the deep pink Parry primrose. Both of these are among the most showy alpine flowers, but neither has a pleasant fragrance. Do not under any circumstances pick these flowers. The fact that they are there at all is evidence of the fact that thousands have restrained such tendencies.

At the top of this ascent, one may be inclined to continue on up the slope to the ridge. This leads to the place known as the False Keyhole. It is also called the Transom and can be negotiated along a narrow and high ledge from which there has been one fatal fall. So instead of crawling through the transom, it is better to watch the trail signs, avoid the extra climb, and return through the real Keyhole. On this route there is a place where a couple of steel spikes have been placed and wisely so. It does not seem so dangerous, because the rocks are not so steep, but if one did accidentally lose his balance or slip, he would have a hard time stopping on the smooth rock below. Accidents are liable to happen when one is fatigued as we are at this point. A hundred and fifty feet before one reaches the Keyhole he may notice a rock just to the right of the trail which contains black, coal‑like crystals of tourmaline.

The Keyhole is a good place for an eye‑full when going either way. It is also a place for a frequent ear‑full of wind. We'll take our last look at Glacier Gorge and scoot down some smooth rocks. Then we are suddenly aware of a beehive‑shaped stone structure at our right. It is the Keyhole Shelter Cabin. The water, sand, cement, and window and door parts, were all laboriously carried by a man from the end of the horse trail in Boulderfield. He commonly carried eighty pounds to the load and made six trips a day.

AGNES VAILLE TRAGEDY

To the left of the door, the inscription on a bronze tablet reads: "Agnes Wolcott Vaille. This shelter commemorates a Colorado mountaineer conquered by winter after scaling the precipice, Jan. 12, 1925, and one who lost his life in an effort to aid her, Herbert Sortland."

Agnes Vaille, on her fourth attempt, and in spite of dissuasion, realized her ambition to climb the East Face in winter time, but due to temporary physical condition and after twenty‑five hours of steady climbing from timberline, did not have the reserve necessary to again reach shelter in the face of below zero weather and stormy conditions. Her Swiss companion, Walter Kiener, left her and managed to reach Timberline Cabin where he met a searching party. With great effort, Kiener and only one of the rescuers, Jacob Christen, were able to reach Miss Vaille, but too late. She died from exhaustion and freezing some two hundred feet down the talus slope below the rocks on the North Face and not here at the Keyhole.

Herbert Sortland was a member of the rescue party who had to turn back, but never quite reached safety. It was six weeks before his body was found a short distance beyond Longs Peak Inn where he had been employed as caretaker. He had lost his way in the storm and suffered a broken hip.

Mr. Kiener was hospitalized and lost all but one of his fingertips, all of his toes and a part of the left foot, due to freezing. Thus impaired for his former occupation, he started to college, worked his way to a Doctor's degree in botany, and worked with the Game Forestation, and Parks Commission of the state of Nebraska. For several succeeding summers Kiener was fire‑lookout on Twin Sisters Mountain. Guiding on Longs Peak then became for a time a means to support his research work on the vegetation of the Peak, chiefly of the tundra zone above timberline. In connection therewith, he maintained a thermograph station on Broadway above Alexanders Chimney, and made many climbs that far on the East Face to attend it. The writer well remembers how Walter made his first climb up Longs Peak after the tragedy. He accompanied our party to Boulderfield and left us to climb the North Face before the cables were in place. When we reached the top, he was already there. His knees and elbows were wet and worn, but he was much elated that he could still climb mountains. He signed the register, "With cut wings coming over the North Face."

HOMEWARD BOUND

From the Keyhole, the old Boulderfield Shelter site may possibly be seen in the approximate center of the rocky expanse of Boulderfield. Near the crest of the last small rise above the cabin site, there is a short stretch of running water among the boulders where a drink may be had. Good climbers can make it from the Keyhole to the shelter site in five minutes. On the other hand it may take over an hour for some who are nearly exhausted and whose leg .muscles no longer support them steadily. In case there are horses waiting at the shelter to be mounted, someone should go ahead to ready them and thus save several minutes.

The ride or hike homeward for a tired party is frequently a plodding affair, each with his own thoughts. Thoughts of the comparative comforts at the foot of the trail of the time and distance to be covered, of the evening meal, of concern due to threatening clouds, or wishes that the rain would cease, all mingle with thoughts of the day's great experiences and accomplishments. Many are so tired that they can not glance back at the monarch they have surmounted unless it is suggested. Yet what a feeling of exultation it can be to say to oneself, "I've climbed to the very summit of that old peak. I was up there where I could look down on every one of these other imposing mountains. No one can ever take that experience away from me."

Some say that it is never again for them, but the feeling may be only temporary for after they have had a season to look back on their experience, they may be eager for another try, perhaps to see what it is like on a clear day, or a stormy day or most often to help their friends to have a share in the great experience.

THE GREAT EAST FACE

The great East Face with its 1,675 feet of nearly perpendicular drop and its variety of difficult climbs commands the respect of any climber. The stories of the "perilous" descents of Lamb and Mills long before others dared to attempt the ascent, enhanced the awe with which it was long regarded. For over fifty years it was a precipice to be avoided.

Then in 1922, professor J. W. Alexander of Princeton University, literally broke the ice when he made a solo ascent using Lambs Slide. The climb had been planned with ranger Jack Moomaw, but Jack was unable to go on that day. The two did climb again and take pictures just two days later, this time using the chimney and traverse later named for Alexander.

When the time has come for a human step forward, there may be more than one with the same idea. Thus pioneering credit is also due Dudley Smith of Denver who after two years of study had sketched almost the same ascent and discussed it with Carl Blaurock and John Hart. They were astounded to read in the newspaper that Alexander had climbed this route, but they proceeded to climb as planned, and just three days later. They were joined by Mr. and Mrs. Hermana Buhl, Frank Shirmer and Herbert Wortman. Their ascent is described in TRAIL AND TIMBERLINE of December 1923 by Blaurock. They "had come prepared with two ice axes and 75 feet of alpine rope."

It has taken many climbers with adventurous spirits to pioneer the ways since 1864 when W. N. Byers, founder of the ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS, failed in an extended attempt to climb Longs Peak and predicted (as Pike never did concerning Pikes Peak) that no man would reach its summit, although he conceded a bare possibility.

Since 1868 when Byers himself was a member of the party which first stood on the top of Longs Peak, crevice grapplers have been continually discovering that routes existed where none had been supposed. At first it took only exploratory efforts to learn that when one sought a route he could often find it. Later the developments of climbing techniques and equipment have greatly accelerated the accomplishments of climbers and more and more difficult routes have been found

INTRODUCING THE DIAMOND

Just as the whole East Face was for so long regarded as insurmountable, so for several more years the cliff climbers skirted its sheerest portion and regarded it as out of their world. Then, just as details of the whole East Face had earlier been studied with a view of climbing it, so some began to study the large, highest, unclimbed section, the most smoothly vertical part directly beneath the summit and above Broadway. As interest increased it came to be called the Diamond. It is roughly that shape, although its corners have been cut, thus increasing the facets and making it roughly octagonal in a vertical plane.

There it has stood, a diamond in the rough, as it was first exposed and cut by the plucking action of a glacier during the ice age; rough enough and‑with flaws enough to make climbing possible when the time was right. There it stands today, proudly displayed in its rock‑bound setting, highest on the most showy flank where it is best seen from the haunts of men; there on the most fascinating peak of the southern Rockies.

A diamond is the hardest substance known and has also been long regarded as a symbol of ultimate attainments as in marriage and in value. This Diamond, to a cliff hanger's eye, as a diamond to a maiden's, would be a crowning glory. Only an expert climber would consider this one in any way attainable, yet there it was, a virgin wall to be wooed and won by him who could demonstrate superior prowess. Thus the Diamond came to symbolize the hardest climb on the mountain and displayed it provokingly. It was the mountain's dare.

HOW DO THEY CLIMB?

How could any one really hope to meet such a dare? What have been the developments in the art of rock climbing that have made such climbs thinkable? "I don't see how they do it!" is a common exclamation, even concerning less spectacular climbs. That is not easy to explain. As well try to tell how one composes a symphony, paints a masterpiece, writes a classic, or invents a computer. Only a smattering will be told, in order to provide an introduction to rock climbing for the general reader, explain some of the special terms commonly used, and establish a realistic setting for the Diamond story.

The Diamond and most other strenuous routes are not smooth unbroken rock. At times there will be projections for hand holds. As in life, the bumps are what one climbs on if he can learn to take advantage of them. There are also cracks of various widths and lengths. Some are vertical and wide enough to put an arm or a foot in, and by wedging pressure to both sides, jamming, one may hold tight or work his way upward. Other vertical cracks are wide enough to enter and then are called chimneys. In these one may inch upward by pressing against opposite sides. Sometimes rocks or boulders fall into chimneys and become wedged, thus tending to block the passageway. These are called chockstones. They, and other types of overhangs or roofs where the rock juts out over one's head, present greater difficulties where one may have to perform strenuous acrobatics over space as he climbs out under, and raises himself over such an edge, grappling for scanty hand holds.

At places one may need to make a traverse, that is to cross to right or left. Then he will choose ledges if they are available. If afoot wide, one can easily walk one. If an inch or less, there may still be some footing to walk on if the cliff slants away enough for one to maintain his balance, and if he has the nerve. A large supply of the latter may make hard‑looking places easy. Why creep and crawl if one can stand and walk? Why take time to inch along and search for hand holds if one can calmly step across? Self‑confidence and balance can save hours of precious time. If one can confidently walk on scanty footholds six feet high, he can, by much practice and experience, learn to ~o it safely 600 feet high. How? How do men build skyscrapers? How do they learn to perform on a flying trapeze? If a man wants badly enough to do something, he can do wonders. We tend to forget it because we live such easy, sheltered lives. If one can, with aids, master the technique of climbing twenty feet up a crack, he can climb 1,000 feet The 20 feet is commonplace; the 1,000 feet spectacular. It requires great nerve. If one doesn't have it, he must either develop it, or decide that the top climbs are not for him.

But fortunately climbing has been made easier and safer than has been indicated. Various styles of pitons have been fashioned. These are spikes of proper metal which can be driven solidly into cracks in the rocks by means of a piton hammer carried for the purpose. Some pitons are thicker or longer than others: Some are flattened horizontally and some vertically. Some are angled for cracks of different widths. Some are short, thin knife blades for very narrow cracks. Regardless of the style an important feature of each is an eye‑hole or ring just beneath the head.

When one drives a proper piton into a crack, he can tell by the sound of the "ping" when it is safely tight, and he can test it. Next he snaps through the eye of the piton an oval‑shaped snap‑link called a carabiner. This has a gate o one side which can be opened by pressing in as with a safety pin, but it is not a pin and is much more stoutly made. Also through the gate of a carabiner may easily be snapped a climbing rope at any position along its length. Then a climber with an end of a rope securely fastened at his waist may easily snap it into and out of a carabiner, and also let it run through several of them. Thus he is secured to the rocks by a rope and his hands and body are given freedom of movement as desired.

This freedom for a climber to move ahead and yet for any fall to be quickly checked, is provided by his climbing partner either ahead or behind. This other essential member of the team, at any dangerous or difficult time, will have selected the best available stance and secured himself tightly to a piton if need be. The anchor ,man then belays the moving climber by playing out just the needed amount of rope to allow for necessary movement and to provide a safeguard in case of a fall.

The one who climbs ahead or leads has the more difficult and dangerous role. He not only climbs, but must manage to place the needed pitons at proper intervals as he ascends. If natural holds on the rock are inadequate or too risky, he may place some pitons as direct aid, that is as hand holds, or to stand on, or to hang from. This last may be by means of stirrups or slings to hang from the attached carabiner and then to stand in. In addition a leader may resort to tension climbing in which he signals that he wants his belayer to hold him tight to a nearly vertical wall and thus free his hands. When one uses such direct aids, it is called artificial climbing.

Placing pitons is a time‑consuming process and will be less needed when .the leader can use natural hand and footholds and ascend by free climbing, that is by balance and without direct aid. However, when free climbing is done in any exposed place, that is, where the slope is so steep that an unexpected slip could mean a dangerous fall, the leader will place pitons at frequent intervals and snap his climbing rope through the series of carabiners. When one loses his balance on even a moderate slope, he may tumble over and over and never regain control, excepting for the rope in the hands of a skillful belayer. If one climbs six feet above his last piton and falls, he would drop six feet below that piton, or a distance of twelve feet before the rope would naturally begin to check his fall. An expert belayer can do a great deal to gradually stop him by providing a dynamic belay This greatly reduces the effect of a sudden jerk, which if severe, would be more liable to pull out a piton, break the carabiner or rope, injure the fallen climber’s body, or pull the belayer from his position. This last must never happen. However, if a leader is making a traverse and falls, he will pendulum down beneath his last piton but the distance and consequences for the same distance beyond the piton may be less than half as severe.

When the leader has climbed a suitable distance, often to the first good stance beyond a difficult or tricky stretch, he will in turn assume a belaying position, often anchoring himself tightly to a piton bracing himself as best he may, passing the rope around his body and then holding it by a hand before and the other after, in order to feel, take in, let out, brake, and control the movement of the rope.

While thus belayed the second man climbs up to him, removing the "hardware" and bringing it along as he goes. Thus the pitons may be used again at higher points. This saves expense, leaves the rock clean for any who follow to practice their own techniques, and reduces the weight that they have to carry. Three‑man teams are also common and introduce both advantages and disadvantages.

From one such belay point to the next is called a pitch or a lead. If one climber is more experienced, he may lead all of the pitches. If they are more equally qualified they will usually take turns leading. Obviously, the second man who is belayed from above will be checked almost as soon as he falls and is thus in less danger.

In places, adequate cracks for pitons may be lacking, or extra safety may be desired for a more crucial anchor point. For such cases a small rock drill is carried, a small hole is drilled into the solid rock, and short expansion bolts are inserted and tightened. These are generally left in place and not removed.

To descend may be easy if one rappels backward down a hanging rope, controlling the rate of his descent by means of the friction applied as the rope is properly placed about his body and/or through a carabiner attached to a body sling. If one does not wish to go back up, the rope is doubled and then may be pulled down by pulling on one end. If one wishes to resume the climb another day, a fixed rope will be left securely attached to pitons or to a bolt. Then one may later prusik or jumar back up to his former position. This is accomplished by using three loops of light rope, each tied or attached to the fixed rope by a prusik knot or jumar ascender. Each such knot or jumar and its attached loop may be slid up the climbing rope when there is no weight upon it, but holds tight at that position whenever there is the downward pull of a man's weight. One of the three slings is passed about the climber's chest, and a foot is placed in each of the others. By standing in one loop, the others will bear no weight and may be moved upward. Then one steps up into the position of the higher loop and repeats the process. The body sling provides an extra factor of safety and leaves both hands free to move up the knots, or jumars.

It should be obvious that this brief description merely introduces the elementary practices that THEY use in rock climbing. It is entirely inadequate for telling YOU how to climb. In order to safely learn how to climb, one must do a great deal of practicing, and much of that with experts. One should practice, practice practice tying the needed knots, handling ropes and keeping them untangled, and placing of pitons in various types of cracks and from every position for his life will depend upon them. He needs to develop arm and hand muscles, skills of balance, of jamming, of using hand holds of various kinds and heights in various positions, of belaying from many types of stances, and of holding actual practice falls. He needs the experience of falling when he is well belayed, in order to better handle himself and to learn just what is his margin of safety so that he may better remain within it. No would‑be tightrope walker would start practicing fifty feet high after merely reading how to do it. Climbers need an even greater variety of skills, but many of them are less evident and they should be developed in safer places.

Fortunately the aspiring cloud pusher can in these days find others to climb with and he may also attend one of the many climbing schools which are held by the various active mountain clubs over the country. And more fortunately for the summer visitor to the Longs Peak area, there is usually a guide service available under concession permit of the National Park Service. They have classes and equipment for beginning, intermediate, and advanced climbing pupils in addition to their guided trips up various Longs Peak routes. The extra feeling of confidence with a group, if inspired by expert leadership, can add much to one's enjoyment and accomplishments.

An important, but often hidden factor, and at times as crucial as technical know‑how, is one's physical condition. Fortunately, it too is acquired from practice climbs. One should always have the physical reserve which adds both to the feeling of well‑being and to safety. It is of little value to know what to do but to be so exhausted as to become careless or lacking in coordination. In order to overcome the uneasiness created by severe exposure, one needs superb selfconfidence, and much of that may come from a positive feeling of being physically fit. On the other hand, any lack of that feeling, even though subconscious, can affect one's mental attitude and cause trouble at times of great stress.

All of the above situations are made increasingly difficult by the high altitude of the rock climbs on Longs Peak and the resultant more severe strain upon one’s energies, and yet not severe enough to keep most from trying. Rocks may be wet either from small watercourses, from melting snows, or from frequent thunderstorms. Preceding these storms there may be gusty winds to throw one off balance. Early mornings may find verglas, a coating of ice over the rocks where water hasrun on a cold night. If a storm comes up when one is climbing a stern, cold wall, he must retreat, continue to climb, or wait. One must always strike a balance between progress and fleeting time. One cannot be as safe when time has exhausted his physical resources, or numbed him with cold, or brought on darkness. Fatigue is a prime cause of accidents and may take its toll after the climax of the most difficult pitches are past.

The expert climber will become adept at taking all of the above factors into account and many others, both as regards himself and the other members of his party. His great experience may induce confidence. He must be fearless but not foolish. He should tend toward caution and avoid risk and recklessness. He will strive to maintain a margin of safety. He will continually be thinking ahead and that will include checking his equipment both as to its condition and adequacy. He will study his routes with care, taking into account the nature and firmness of the rock, and the likelihood of rocks falling from above and the courses they will take. Rocks are more liable to fall during a storm or when a warm sun melts ice which may have held rocks in place. In falling from a height, stones may attain the speed of bullets, and small ones be as hard to see and as dangerous. A safety helmet is essential‑especially for an anchor man who remains directly below a climber and has little leeway for dodging rocks which might become dislodged, and also in case of a fall.

Over the years the knowledge and practice of better climbing techniques has greatly improved. This may be illustrated by comparing one later with two former accidents.

In 1926 two climbers with no rope were starting up the Chimneys above Broadway. The sub‑headline on the next day's newspaper tells the story: "Companion hears Forrest Ketring's cry of terror and, powerless to help, sees body flash post him on precipice and hurtle to depths below."

In 1929, we read the following parts of a newspaper account of another accident at the same locality. (Quotations from ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS.)

"'I was holding the lower end of a 30‑yard rope and my friend (above) had succeeded in fastening it rather insecurely, to a crag, when I saw him slip,' Stacher said.

"Stacher braced himself in the hope of stopping Thiemeyer's fall and pulling him to safety, but the rope slipped thru his hands, burning a deep gash in his palm...

"'Don't go up there. It's not safe,' Stacher had warned Thiemeyer.

"'Oh, I can make it all right,' answered Thiemeyer, who is a native of Switzerland, and had often remarked that there were 'no mountains in Colorado worth climbing.' A moment later he fell."

The attitude expressed in the last paragraph of recklessness and audacity is certainly conducive to accidents. Habitual respect of the forces of nature is an important part of safety. Without digressing further on attitudes, the following is given in order that the climbing techniques involved may be compared with those above. It was written by Ranger Ernest K. Field and was printed in TRAIL AND TIMBERLINE, Dec. 1948, under the heading, "An Accident on Longs Peak."

"At about noon, on July 17 last summer, Bill Eubank and Brad Van Diver of Boulder had practically finished an uneventful climb of Stettners Ledges on the East Face of Longs Peak. Van Diver was leading the last pitch and Eubank was belaying. When Van Diver was only a few feet from Broadway, he either slipped, or was struck in the head and momentarily stunned by a small rock falling from higher on the peak. In any event he fell about forty feet as he was climbing some twenty feet above his last piton.

"Eubank fortunately was in an excellent belaying position and was anchored to his position by another piton. As Van Diver fell, Eubank was able to take in a small amount of slack and release sufficient rope to effect a dynamic belay when Van Diver reached the limit of his fall. While Eubank was lifted from his feet by the impact, he was not pulled from the wall since he was held in by his anchor. Van Diver suffered a severe scalp laceration when he scraped his head against the wall as he fell, and was unconscious for three hours while Eubank rendered first aid and signaled for help.

"A rescue party, led by Seasonal Ranger George Hurt, arrived at the scene several hours later and was able to get the injured climber off the face before dark. Van Diver enjoyed a complete recovery even though the doctor 'lost count' of the number of stitches required to close the lacerations in the climber's scalp.

"Both of these young men are very good climbers, and have studied a number of technical manuals on the subject. It is believed that this accident, although painful for Van Diver, illustrates how a good knowledge of climbing techniques, and a proper application of the same, prevented a tragedy that could well have been fatal to both men. It is believed, however, that these young men will not again climb the excessive distance of twenty feet beyond their last piton."

It is hoped that ambitious climbers may learn the lessons illustrated by these three accidents and practice their techniques beforehand. It is too late to get out the manual and study it after a slip occurs on the East Face. It should be further noted that Van Diver was rescued the same day, whereas the Stachers, in the second acbdent above, were marooned on the East Face all night, and rescued the following day. Had Thiemeyer only been injured, he might yet have died of shock and exposure. The prompt rescue at the later date was due to at least two factors. Eubank and Van Diver were wiser climbers in that they started earlier in the day, and the Park Service is now better prepared to effect a quick rescue, especially when they are informed of the climb beforehand, as will be done by all good climbers attempting the more difficult routes.

ENGAGING THE VIRGIN WALL

Where there is the challenge of an unclimbed wall, there will in time appear those rare men who seek to meet it, who are eager to try new things, and who have taken great pains to develop the necessary skills. When a mountain's time has come, there will be several such men, and it might just as well give up. To men who have mastered the needed skills things may look possible which are beyond the ken of others.

Such a climber was Dale Johnson of Boulder, Colorado. After long study, he first laid actual plans with Bob Sutton to mount the Diamond. But discussion with the local National Park Service personnel which is required before attempting unusual climbs, revealed that they did not favor any attempt upon the Diamond. Thus the climbers discovered that besides the natural difficulties imposed by the frigid, domineering wall, there were man‑made hindrances to be surmounted. Such is commonly the case with those who dare to move out ahead of the crowd. After a man first decides, "it can be done," and secondly, "I will do it," then he must often face the voice of public opinion or of authority which says, "It's unthinkable You mustn't. It's too risky." Thus are the natural difficulties compounded; thus are many worthy projects stymied, and thus does mankind block or delay its own progress. However, thus is man also saved from many foolish adventures and waste of lives and resources. And just so is set the stage and the plot for many a fascinating story both in fiction and in the history of man's struggles against odds and uncertainties, with the accompanying suspense and the doubtful final outcome. Let us now follow this real‑life story of "Engaging the Virgin Wall" of "Polishing the Diamond," and see how it turned out.

Back in 1922, when Alexander wanted to try to climb the East Face, there were no evident restrictions. He was free to climb on his own responsibility. The risks, and the consequent penalties or honors were his and his alone. He succeeded as responsible men often do. But over the intervening years, would‑be climbers had done some foolish and tragic things. Not only did some lose their own lives, but the Park Rangers had many times been called upon to risk their live: in rescue work. Many long and expensive man days had been spent in searching for, and in carrying out, the victims.

The superintendent of Rocky Mountain National Park is charged with the responsibility of managing the whole area and is given broad powers to do so. If some wish to risk their own lives, that is their business, but it becomes the superintendent's business when they get into trouble and their lives depend upon the assistance of the rangers. Suppose two climbers get stuck, or have an accident near the midpoint of a thousand‑foot, sheer precipice. Can anyone then refuse to try to save their lives? Hardly. Yet the climbers who reached an impasse were supposedly among the best. How wise is it then to send perhaps less able and reluctant rangers to risk their lives in the rescue? But suppose that the daring climbers succeed, as is likely. Then may not the publicity given them attract other climbers, thus perpetuating the problems, and at some point being liable to result in "fallure" and disaster, which might have better been avoided, along with the public criticism which would have been aroused?

Johnson was at the time expected to make considerable use of drilled bolts. Some who opposed the climb made a point that this would result in defacement of the rocks, and there are regulations prohibiting this. The objection was publicised in the papers, but was later dropped.

But Johnson had a rare determination to succeed, an important characteristic of climbers. The objections of the National Park Service to unnecessarily risking their rangers could be met by recruiting his own volunteer support party and enlarging his preparations for every conceivable emergency. Fortunately, the city of Boulder, where the University of Colorado is located, had long been a climbing center and there were excellent climbers available and willing to become members of a support and rescue party. In fact there had been for some time organized there the Rocky Mountain Rescue Group which had many times demonstrated the value of their training and experience in rescue work. Here also are located two important establishments supplying the best in mountaineering equipment, Mountain Sports, Inc., and Holubar Mountaineering, Ltd.

The decision in 1954 was to refuse Johnson permission to attempt the climb. It seemed better to say, "No," beforehand, because it could not be said later if their lives were "hanging on a thread." Anyway, the Diamond was regarded by all but a few climbers, as just too nearly impossible.

Likewise an application by Dick Pownall, later to become a member of the 1963 American Mount Everest Expedition, and Bill Dunaway was turned down in 1955, even though they had lined up a well‑equipped support party from among Fort Carson climbers.

Johnson sounded out the local officials again in 1957 and found the door still closed. In 1958, now manager of Gerry Mountain Sports, he made a more complete and formal application including photographs, ability certificates, and detailed plans. This time Ray Northcutt was to be his climbing partner, and Layton Kor, whose name will appear again, and Albert Riordan were listed as alternates. These requests followed a great deal more preparatory climbing on difficult Longs Peak routes and elsewhere. In June of 1958 the ESTES PARK TRAIL had editorialized in favor of giving permission for the climb.

But the local Park Service administration was still not inclined to grant the needed approval although they had given the matter considerable more study, and discussions had been held with other officials including those from Grand Teton and Yosemite National Parks, two important parks for rock climbing.

When able men of determination find themselves thwarted, they are likely to try other ways, for "Where there's a will, there's a way." Hoping to strengthen their case and to convince the officials that the Diamond could be climbed, Ray Northcutt and George Lamb began in 1958 to work on the "Diagonal" route. This one had not attracted attention, and because it was between other routes below Broadway, it had not been declared "off limits."

The Diagonal climb proved to be no small undertaking. The original plan was to follow a crack which started at the base of the wall and ran diagonally upward and toward the left across some difficult overhangs. Two climbing days in 1958 had been shortened by "violent hail and electrical storms." In early 1959, Northcutt, now aided by Layton Kor of Boulder, reached the dark vertical streaks caused by continual running water and the resulting lichen growths. Here the crack was playing out and the water and slippery lichens caused added difficulties.

A traverse to the right was chosen as the easier way, but it too was tricky. At times there were no hand holds and the ledges narrowed down in places to a quarter of an inch. Fortunately the rock was not vertical and they crossed by balanced climbing.

This route was pushed upward on five different days, the first four all being cut short by storms. On the final day, July 19, 1959, they continued on through the storm and reached Broadway after thirteen hours of continuous climbing. (See Northcutt's article, in THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL, 1960 I. pp 129‑30)

Now, however, permission to climb the Diamond seemed harder to obtain than ever, for the problems had been enlarged and must now await policy decisions from Washington. In Yosemite, El Capitan, a similar but much higher, "impossible" wall had been climbed. There was much publicity, and an illustrated story of the climb was sold and published. The Park Service feared that the climb might have been made as a stunt primarily for publicity purposes. This brought in the consideration of commercialization, another area in which control is exercised. Now the matter had become a question of policy for the whole National Park Service. Thus in early 1959, Director Conrad L. Wirth issued a statement from Washington, barring such "stunt and daring trick climbing" while new regulations were being prepared. Meanwhile, the challenge of the unclimbed Diamond was making it more famous and attracting the attention of climbers in other areas and even in foreign countries. There it displayed an opportunity: Acres of Diamond, eighteen of them.

MOUNTING THE DIAMOND

More than a year passed by and in the summer of 1960 the new policies had been formulated in favor of allowing such climbs when certain rigid requirements had been met. Thereupon, James V. Lloyd, the superintendent of Rocky Mountain National Park, sent out application blanks simultaneously to all parties who hoc previously made known their interest in climbing the Diamond.

Dale Johnson set about preparing to submit his application and contactec Ray Northcutt, but the chance for which they had worked so hard and waited so long came at an inopportune time. They both had jobs and had not been able to climb enough at high altitudes to be in top physical condition. Northcutt was committed to his work in Montana and could not get away. Then Johnson learned that two climbers from California were preparing an application and were already recruiting a support party. He redoubled his efforts.

The Californians, Robert Kamps, an elementary school teacher of North Hollywood, and David Rearick, who had just received his doctorate in mathematics from Cal. Tech., had been climbing much of the summer and were already in good physical condition. For three weeks they had been climbing locally and had made inquiry about climbing the Diamond. They too received an application blank and also, they were at once able to turn their whole attention to meeting the requirements. Their rock‑climbing abilities had already been recognized in California where they had passed rigid tests and qualified with the Sierra Club as rock climbing leaders. In addition, they successfully climbed the Diagonal. The determination necessary for the Diamond climb was immediately evident in the ways they set about lining up their primary and secondary support parties and securing telegraphic confirmations of their successful, difficult climbs in Yosemite, the Teton Mountains, and on Devils Tower. Finally, their equipment was laid out and checked over by the rangers.

Their application was approved on Thursday, July 27th, for an attempt during the month of August. They had another four days for final preparations before they could touch the Diamond. They knew that Johnson would apply and that there might be others. It might be a race and they were determined to be first.

All readers of mountaineering history will remember the fascinating story of the first ascent of the Matterhorn, and how through the years it had been thought impossible. Then several attempts were made. Finally, in 1865, Edward Whymper and his party got organized from Zermatt, Switzerland, after he had already seen an Italian party start out from their side and realized that they "had clearly stolen a march" on him. Nevertheless, Whymper's party arrived at the top first and saw the Italian party only 1 250 feet below. The leader of that party, J. A. Carrel, had been first to believe that it could be climbed, and it was his lifetime ambition to accomplish it. In Whymper's own words, Carrel "most deserved to be first upon its summit." ("Scrambles Amongst the Alps," by Edward Whymper).

After making arrangements for the support party to follow and bring more equipment, Rearick, Bob and Mrs. Bonnie Kamps, and Jack Loughlin, a helpful supporting friend from Hollywood, moved up to Chasm Lake Shelter on Saturday. Would it be necessary for them to share this small but with a competing party They did not know, but at least they got there first. On Sunday, the thirty‑first the support party arrived from Boulder. It consisted of Charles Roskosz, (watch for his name to appear again) Dean Moore, Charles Alexander, and Gary Cole. Members of the Alpine Rescue Team from Evergreen, Colo., led by Gordon Stocker, were available on call as secondary support.

With the arrival of the primary support party came a steady drizzle but work went forward on the installation of fixed ropes as hand lines up North Chimney in order to make it easier to carry the gear up to the base of the Diamond. Rain drove the climbers back to the shelter that night instead of staying on Brcadway as planned. Monday, the first of August when they could start their direct attack for which the precipice had for millenniums been wciting, dawned cold and windy but clear, and spirits were high. No competitors had yet arrived. The two principal climbers left the shelter early and climbed over cold, wet rocks and nylon ropes to Broadway, trusting the support party to finish the wearisome task of lugging more gear that far and of preparing there a comfortable bivouac site.

Let us now quote from the climbers' matter‑of‑fact report which they prepared for Rocky Mountain National Park files, and get their own story. Such reports are supposed to be regular procedure. Permissions to use this and the excerpts which follow, have been granted.

CLIMBERS' REPORT OF THE FIRST ASCENT OF THE DIAMOND

By David F. Rearick and Robert F. Kamps

"The purpose of this report is to provide the Park and future climbing parties with technical information gained during the first ascent

"The actual climbing began at 9:30 a.m. on August 1. The first pitch, 140 feet, is easy free climbing. The second pitch is moderate to difficult face climbing on sound rock, leading to an overhang slanting to the right. The third pitch involves direct aid to ascend the right edge of this overhang, and ends on a grass‑covered platform with a large (loose) boulder, easily visible from Chasm View. The fourth pitch starts up the inside of the corner above, gaining 30 feet by difficult free climbing until direct aid is necessary. Easy "nailing" brings one up to the conspicuous six‑foot overhang above, and it was passed with a single piton. Increasingly difficult nailing is encountered in the wide grass‑filled crack leading from here up to the Ramp. On the first ascent this section was being drenched by water falling free from the chimney near the top of the Diamond. The highest point reached August 1 was about 80 feet below the Ramp. A bolt was placed to reinforce the poor belay stance and to serve as a rappel anchor for the return to Broadway. The time of descent was 4:00 p.m., the early retreat being due to threatening weather.

"On August 2 we prusiked back up and continued to the Ramp. This feature is a sloping shelf 6 to 8 feet wide and eminently unsuited for a bivouac site. Twenty feet higher, however, we discovered a good ledge on which a bivouac is possible. At the Ramp the nature of the rock takes a change for the worse, becoming rather loose and fractured. The wall leans outward constantly for the next 400 feet and we were climbing behind the falling water. The sixth pitch ascends the central crack system to a point about 115 feet above the Ramp. It is almost all direct aid, and piton placing is moderately difficult. Our second bolt was placed to anchor a belay in slings at the end of this pitch.

"The seventh pitch continues straight up to a ledge about 225 feet above the ramp. It is mostly moderately difficult to difficult direct aid climbing, except for the last 20 feet where the crack becomes suitable for jamming. The ledge is 2 feet wide and 7 feet long. We placed a third bolt here and pulled up the pack with our bivouac gear from its resting place on the ramp. It did not touch rock once on the way up.

"Before dark the 8th pitch had been completed to a point 100 feet above the ledge. It involves difficult nailing up a series of blocks and overhangs. A 4th bolt was placed at the top, and the leader descended to the ledge, removing the pitons on the way down.

"We spent the night of August 2 on this two‑foot ledge. The temperature was probably about 40°, and our down jackets kept us comfortable.

"Early on August 3 the first man prusiked up the rope (dangling out from the rock) to the high point reached the previous evening, and continued on 30 feet to the point where the central chimney crosses the prominent transverse crack running across the Diamond. There is a good belay stance here in a small cave. The other climber followed on through and started nailing up the chimney. Water, moss and overhanging chockstones soon forced a detour to a crack system a few feet to the left. At the end of this, the 9th pitch, a belay in slings was set up. At this point the wall finally ceases to be overhanging and becomes harder and the pitons more reliable.

"The 10th pitch, about 60 feet long, finally brought us to a point at which we could re‑enter the chimney, and the 11th and final pitch is free climbing up the chimney to the top. There were several huge blocks of ice in the chimney, and it was wet and sloppy throughout. We reached the top of the Diamond at 1:15 P.M.

"Here are a few details on our equipment:

Pitons ‑ About 35 were carried, mostly of chrome‑moly hardened steel, in sizes varying from knife‑blades to large angles 21/2 inches wide. All but a few were removed.

Bolts ‑ We placed 4 Star Dryvin expansion bolts, 3/$‑inch diameter by 1 1/2 inches long as belay anchors. They are solidly driven and, in contrast to rawldrive compression bolts, should be reliable for a number of years. Future parties should not need to place additional bolts.

Rope ‑ Aside from the hand lines used in the North Chimney, 6 ropes were used on the climb. All were 7/16‑inch diameter nylon. The rope used for leading was 150 feet long, the others either 150 or 120 feet. Two of them were left fixed over pitches 2, 3 and 4 to facilitate retreat or rescue, and were removed later. A 1,200 foot rope, loaned by Holubar, was available for rescue from the top.

Food ‑ Salami, pepperoni, canned chicken, raisins, chocolate, and 4 quarts of water.

Bivouac gear ‑ Two down jackets (one Lionel Terray, one Sporthaus Schuster), sweaters, gloves, one Holubar waterproof parka and leg‑bag, one poncho. These and the food were carried in a pack which we hauled up behind us."

The above report was also published in TRAIL AND TIMBERLINE in the Sept. 1960 issue. With it was another article by Robert Kamps from which the following paragraph is quoted. It concerns the morning after their bivouac on the Diamond.

"We realized that once we started in the morning, we had to make a crucial decision, as our fixed line ran diagonally upward and outward to the left. We could leave a fixed rope from the upper bolt to the bivouac ledge. Otherwise, when we stepped into our prusik loops, and swung into space, retreat would be impossible. Should we cut off our retreat and find that the water‑flowing, upper chimney was impassable, it would be up to our support party to help us. Trusting to our support party, we decided to do the latter."

Another article was written by David Rearick and published in THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL, 1961. The quotations from that article which follow, will provide additional interesting highlights.

"Back on the (bivouac) ledge it was getting cold, and we put on all of our clothes ate some food, and tied in for the night. I sat in a cross‑legged position all night, while Bob was able to recline partially. The night was clear and we watched the shadows from the moon creep stealthily along the slope of Lady Washington below us and across the shimmering blackness of Chasm Lake. We both managed to doze for a few hours

" . . . . Several hardy newspaper reporters were on hand at the summit, and as we descended the regular route, we met others who had been defeated by the altitude at various levels

"In retrospect, the climb turned out to be somewhat harder than we had expected, because of the difficult rock in the central section. We never resorted to bolting for direct aid, our four expansion bolts being used only to anchor belays and prusik ropes. On the whole we were favored by the weather, which is undoubtedly the largest single factor in any climb on Longs Peak . "

They spent fifty‑two hours at the wall, of which twenty‑eight and a half. were used in actual climbing.

There can be only one such "first." Johnson and Northcutt came close, but luck had continued against them. They and others had tried for years and made great efforts to get permission to attempt it. It was largely due to such continuous efforts that attention was directed to the Diamond that resistance was broken down, and that it was at last opened to climbing. Then it was very disappointing to them and to their friends, that the final decision came at an inopportune time for them and local climbers lost the honor of a "first."

Thus it was that Kamps and Rearick got first crack at the crack and oh what a crack that is. They were lucky enough to be ready when the opportunity came, and as it was said they "aced" out the Colorado climbers. That should make it the Ace of Diamonds climb, it being also excellent and outstanding.

As an interesting aftermath, there promptly appeared secondary articles by the newsmen pointing up the exhaustions and the aches which they themselves had suffered in order to watch and photograph the climb. They had comfortable beds but little time for sleep because they arose before dawn each day to "climb" from the base of the peak. Then after wearily retreating each night, they had to prepare and transmit their stories and pictures. Horseback riding added to their soreness and discomforts. They "climbed" much more than the climbers, took the worst beating, and were not doing it for sport.

Newsmen also gave the National Park rangers credit for always being in the right place at the right time," and with a portable radio to report progress or difficulties, and to secure more aid if needed. Chief Ranger Lyle McDowell, ranger Bob Frausen, and Longs Peak rangers John Clark and William Colony, were those upon whom much might have depended in the event of troubles. In 1962 when the Diamond was next to be attempted, David Rearick was, himself, a Longs Peak ranger. An article also praised the support party and the help that they gave without which, "the climb could not have been made." (Quotations from ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS.) The support party also brought down the gear which was much appreciated by the climbers, who as "Kings of the Diamond" shared with the "Queens of the Rooftop Rodeo" the places of honor in the kcal rodeo parade the next day.

Rearick afterwards wrote the writer, "I have an old copy of your guidebook dating from 1946. It was a source of inspiration to me in the days when climbing the cable mute represented the ultimate adventure. My father and I finally reached the summit of Longs Peak in 1950 after two unsuccessful attempts in 1944 and i947." And so, my readers, if you are not successful the first time you try Longs Peak, or some other things, do not be discouraged. Your failures may be the steppingstones upon which you develop the determination and the ability to succeed.

The 1960 climb took some of the edge off of the Diamond, and no one attempted to further polish it in 1961. In 1962, Johnson still determined to win over the Diamond by his long‑planned route, similar to that of Kamps and Rearick, made an attack with John Wharton, from England, but teaching in Princeton, N.J

They started on Tuesday, August 7th, and spent the night on the two‑foot‑and‑less ledge (See illustration, page 39) just above the Ramp. The next morning, Whartor who had reportedly had only ten days to become acclimated, was too ill to climb. Johnson advanced another one hundred feet upward, hoping that by then Whartor might feel better, but he did not and they had to descend, and face another disappointment.

THE YELLOW WALL (SECOND DIAMOND CLIMB)

Attention turned quickly to another attempt. This was planned by Layton Kor Boulder bricklayer, who had done three other firsts an Longs and had been living and working between times for his rock‑climbing trips. These had taker him all over the west to various climbs on Devils Tower, the Teton Mountains Yosemite including the face of Half Dome the Bugaboos in Canada Fisher: Towers (see THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE of Nov. 1962), Spider Rock the Totem Pole, and Black Canyon, as well as new routes on the face o Chiefshead and the south side of Sharkstooth nearby. Give that man enough rope and he'll hang ‑ in stirrups and make first ascents most anywhere.

Two others were certified for this climb, Robert Culp of Boulder, and Jim McCarthy of Princeton N. J. However, Culp became ill the day before, seemingly from a virus, and McCarthy was similarly too ill to climb on the appointed morning, Saturday, August 11th although he had helped Kor to make a start o a few pitches the afternoon before. So it happened that Charles Roskosz, mathematics student from Boulder, a member of the Diamond support party for the second time, became the other member of the team. His wife at home, didn't even know he was climbing until she read it in the paper. Just think how much that shortened her worries.

This second climb of the Diamond started about 150 feet to the left, or south east, of the first Diamond climb and was on a smoother, more yellowed section which they named the Yellow Wall. Here the rocks are very nearly vertical rather than leaning outward as they do above the Ramp. There are less overhang and the rock is more solid, but the crack system is not as continuous and more delicate traverses were therefore necessary.

Piton by piton direct aid and tension, they pushed slowly upward, pitch after pitch, and then it happened. A piton on which Kor was standing gave way and instantly he started to drop. The next piton held and through it and others, the rope in the expert hands of Roskosz stopped the fall. A "swami belt" of three or so wraps of nearly two‑inch wide nylon webbing about his waist, took the shock and eased the jerk and the cutting action which the rope might have caused.

"I gotcha, old man," said Roskosz as reported by the "NEWS."

Later Kor replied in answer to reporter's inquiries "It all happened so fast, I didn't have time to get scared. I was a little shaky for the next five minutes though."

On one traverse especially, after using their knife‑blade pitons and "rurps" (that is ‑ "Realized Ultimate Reality Pitons" developed and named by Yvon Chouinard) with short blades for tight, hairline cracks, they made use of ordinary pitons which could be driven only a little way in, and thus could not bear the leverage caused by support from the eye‑holes at a distance from the rocks. This made it advisable to use an older device of winding lighter alpine cord around the shanks of the pitons and right next to the rock and supporting the stirrups from these points. This sufficed. Shortly thereafter they could "relax" sitting roped to the wall on their small bivouac perch.

What would it be like sitting out such a night, trying against great odds and cold realities to rest and doze? What kind of "wall‑eyed," nightmarish impressions might one have as his mind fitfully slips back and forth from waking to sleeping under the overwhelming dominance of that great wall which would tilt all of a flatlander's ways on edge? What thoughts might go through one's activated mind in his wakeful stretches on such an aerie perch, always conscious of that great space beside, that awful depth below, that looming height above, and that edge so near? A partial answer may come to the ordinary person when he can imagine banishing his clinging fears of height and replacing them with a climber's sense of elation which results from his mastery of difficulties. He has great respect for exposure, but he has learned to live with it. The discomforts of cramped positions become only incidents which give way to greater feelings of accomplishment.

Times of sleeping may be interrupted by the realization that the rope is cutting tighter, that in relaxation one has slumped nearer the brink, and that it is time to change position in order to avoid stiff muscles. Thus there will be some squirming, some flexing and rubbing of arms and legs, some shivering from the near freezing cold and some thoughts of thirst to be controlled, for one does not lug up as much water as it would be nice to have.

In wakeful moments he may be planning what to do for this or that problem which may lie above; contemplating the grandeur of his rugged surroundings, the brightness of the stars, the weather, the memories of other bivouacs perhaps on desert towers on mild nights and without publicity, the many lights on the plains, and the comforts of home to be relished again after the climb.

The sun strikes the Diamond as soon as it rises and one can peer down through its ruddy rays into dark shadowed areas. Its warmth is soon felt by the impatient climbers, eager to be active and climbing again.

"Hey, let's eat and get going and get ahead of the afternoon storm."

The warm‑up proceeds with squirming, tensing of muscles, careful swinging of arms and stomping. Always watching balance, always close to the wall. Breakfasting on concentrated food, rationing out some water; stowing away the stuff, arranging packs and climbing gear, methodically, carefully. Each carried about thirty pounds or less at the start including three 150‑foot ropes between them.

Eager to be actively meeting the challenge and achieving again, they starter the climb. Kor led a pitch. Let us now listen to some of the sound effects to better help us to get the feel of the climb. At intervals in the background from Chasm View will come the extraneous, magnified voice of the radio contact with Park headquarters.

"On belay~" shouted Kor, now anchored to the rock beside him and giving the signal that he was braced against any ,possible fall and ready to take up the rope as Roskosz climbed. "Climb." he shouted after a tug on the rope allowed him to feel the security of his position.

"Climbing," replied Roskosz as he started upward, avoiding the use of the rope as a climbing aid. There were scraping noises from movements against the rock, grunting, puffing, knocking of pitons back and forth as he worked to get them out; metallic releasing noises as they came, and tinkling, jangling noises as he snapped them and carabiners to the piton belt about his waist.

Up to Kor and a careful, cautious changing of positions. The jangling hardware is handed over to Kor who is now eager for exercise to get his blood to circulating more actively again. The signals continue: "On belay." "Off belay. "Climb." "Climbing." "Slack" (more rope needed). "Up rope." (pull up slack "Tension" (keep rope tight), Throughout could be heard the rising pitch of the "pings" of the pitons as they were driven in, or the "bongs" of the larger, lower pitched bong bongs for wider cracks.

So they progressed, at times the belayer standing in stirrups hung by carabiners to pitons on the side of the wall, a tiresome position if long maintained as is usually necessary, and over awsome exposure of hundreds of vertical feet. By eleven o'clock the sun has left the Diamond and it becomes cold at that altitude in the shade.

A short thunderstorm burst upon the mountain and sent cold rivulets splashing down over them. They tied into their pitons, thus freeing their hands from the numbing cold of having to hang on. A few minutes it immobilized them and the left the rocks wet and more slippery. They topped out just before one o'clock after twenty‑eight and a half continual hours on the Yellow Wall, nineteen of them spent in climbing. To this figure must be added another five or so of pushing up the start on the previous day. They carried expansion bolts, but made the whole climb without making use of any.

After the climb, Roskosz was summoned to appear before the local, U.S. Commissioner. He was charged with climbing the 'Diamond without having receive permission. This, as will be remembered, was because two other certified climbers got sick, one at the last moment. Roskosz substituted and made the climb. He pleaded guilty and was assessed a small fine.

In June of 1963 and until July 3, Layton Kor and Floyd "Tex" Bossier of the Colorado Guide Service of Boulder made first ascents on the following new routes: Gray Pillar, Red Wall, Zig Zags, Crack of Delight, and Diagonal Directissima.

Then on July 6, 1963, with Royal Robbins, Kor reclimbed the Ace of Diamonds, or Diamond I, in 16 hours. Just one week later the same two pioneered a new route, the Jack of Diamonds a few feet to the right. This was also accomplished one long day of about 16 hours.

"Both climbs were properly approved and completed without incident or undue publicity," reported Allyn F. Hanks, superintendent.

In mid‑August of 1964 the fifth successful climb of the Diamond was made. This was accomplished by Bob Boucher of Denver and Pat Ament, 17, of Boulder. They took two days and named the climb, The Grand Traverse. Some other attempts on the Diamond were turned back by bad weather.

Are these Diamond routes the hardest in the country? Of course not, although they are among the hardest to date. Harder climbs will yet be made. The Diamond, besides being quite uniformly sheer, lies entirely above 13,100 feet and is thus a colder adversary and more taxing upon one's physical stamina than most in our forty‑eight adjacent states. Colorado's peaks in summertime tend to make their own local and more unpredictable thunderstorms with their special problems. However, the snow and ice and their particular hazards that are commonly found on high mountains, are of little importance here in August, excepting for the crossing of Lambs Slide by novices.

Layton Kor, one of the most capable mountaineers to climb on Longs Peak, has said that "Mountains are God's gift to man. Experience is the most essential element in mountain climbing. Don't try to short‑cut on it nor on safety. Live your climbing. Live a lot of it. Climb and climb, but get the experience gradually and thoroughly as you do. Of course a climber must dare to take some risks. And if continued long enough, some risks will result in failure. When one looks at a wall or starts to explore a route, he can tell if he can do it. The wall itself will do a great deal of discouraging and will sort out those who are not ready for it. A fellow will decide that it is not for him because it may take a terrific lot of nerve and self‑confidence. One can fail psychologically as well as physically."

It would seem that after many successful climbs of the Diamond and many other difficult routes on Longs Peak, without any recent fatalities to technical rock‑climbers, the Park Service has weathered a critical stage. They may henceforth be less blamable, should there be a tragic fall. But how they might have suffered if the first attempt at the Diamond had resulted in tragedy! Public opinion would have been prone to say, "They had the power to prevent it. They should not have permitted them to risk their lives."

Now, however, these climbing fellows have demonstrated that they really do know a great deal about what they are doing. As with astronauts, there are risks, but successes have shown that what was long impossible can now be accomplished by means of technical know‑how.

The public is becoming more interested and informed concerning the accomplishments of this great sport of mountain climbing. Let us hope that the successes of the few experts do not over‑stimulate large numbers of unprepared emulators to attempt crags beyond their abilities, with resulting falls to the dismay and horror of their horizontally‑bound contemporaries who seem to prefer to be crushed and snuffed out by the thousands in automobiles.

Henceforth, whenever one looks at that great Diamond so well displayed in its appropriate setting, let it be a reminder to him of the great difficulties which can be overcome and of the heights to which man can ascend. Let him remember what Powell so aptly stated on the occasion of the first ascent of Longs Peak, that we have many "impossible routes" which need to be pioneered in other fields as well. (See page 7.)

Let him who gazes at the Diamond, recognize the power of free individual men and of team work and then say of whatever in other fields he has hesitated to try, but wanted very much to do, "It can be done."

QUOTATIONS ‑ MOSTLY GLEANED FROM THE REGISTERS

"Of ,all glad words mid start and stop, The gladest of these ‑ we've reached the top.'

From "Jacksonville, Florida‑where there are no mountains . . . God's Country.' "A good gang ‑ A stiff climb ‑ A wonderful view ‑ But a ‑ ‑ ‑ ‑long wad back."

"8‑17‑33 We were caught in several blizzards coming up the cable route." "Ft. Worth, Texas. Just a mole hill ‑ What good is it?"

"7‑26‑35 Boy, is it cold and snowing." "Never again, at least not for two or three days."

"Gambled in Reno all nite Tues. Drove all nite Wed. from Salt Lake. Here thi 3:00 A.M. Friday. Hope there's no more radical time up. About all in."

"Elevator out of order. Boy are my dogs tired." "Will power is wonderful."

"Longs Peak must be called that because it is a long way off." "Worth every moan and groan."

"I couldn't eat, but I'm living high."

"I wore my heavy shoes so I wouldn't be blown away." "Take nothing but pictures. Leave nothing but tracks."

"Halfway to heaven, but only a misstep from hell."

"I thought I'd have to duck when I saw a satelite coming, but the Peak has learner to squat and let them pass."

"I climbed Longs again to be sure I hadn't left anything. I hadn't.

"The wilderness of the mountains is better than the bewilderness of the towns. "The mountains are God's great raised letters on the earth where even the blincan read."‑Anon.

"Mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery." ‑ John Ruskir Said of the first Diamond climb: ". . . a fairly difficult way to get up to wher there isn't anything." THE DENVER POST.

"The Diamond, a giant slab that is a stern taskmaster and a stone‑cold adversary. Corral Dust, ESTES PARK TRAIL.

"A mountain is a friendly thing; it heals the hurts that cities bring."‑Anon. "My last mountain. I'm done."

"BURPS!" Tinkle, tinkle little rurps. A wonder that you hold my stirrups, Up above the world so high, On the Diamond near the sky!

"One thing mountains never have is fear. Man brings that with him." ‑ Bud Palme

"The mountains shall bring peace to the people." ‑ Psalms 72:3.

"There are old climbers and there are bold climbers, but there are no old bold climbers." ‑ Paul Petzoldt.

"A mountain demands the utmost in individual responsibility, both for oneself and for his pardner." ‑ Bud Palmer.