Striking a 2-Bell Chord

Oh Let the Sun Beat Down Upon My Face / With Stars to Fill My Dreams

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I haven’t seen many trip reports about the Maroon Bells traverse in May, so I thought I would add one. Caveat emptor: the route lines drawn on pictures are approximations, will contain errors, and are only used to show the general route. Do not rely on my route lines for specific routefinding decisions.

The Maroon Bells: where to start? Red, Rugged, and Rotten, or Perfect, Peaceful, and Picturesque depending on whether you’re climbing them or staring at them from tourist central at Maroon Lake. I found myself in the latter position on Thursday evening, May 17, looking at the iconic Bells illumined by twilight and scoping out the snow levels on the various routes. The scene was really pretty gloomy, with the gray forest, gray lake, darkening sky, and a few tourists scattered around looking disappointed with the sunset.

Instead of starting this trip report with that gloomy scene, here’s a more cheerful picture of the Bells from autumn of 2016.

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I was planning on backpacking to Crater Lake for the night, but the Silver Bell Campground was unexpectedly open, so I decided to stay there instead. The alarm went off at 2:30 a.m., and by 2:50 I was the first car into the Maroon Lake parking lot. I started up the trail immediately. The Milky Way gleamed bright overhead in the moonless sky, and the calm air promised perfect weather ahead. It was fairly cold for being below 9,000 feet in May, so I was confident that there would be a solid freeze on the higher altitude snow slopes.

A little ways up the trail, I startled a porcupine, which lumbered off in the bushes to the right of the trail. I passed Crater Lake around 3:40 and promptly ran into route finding difficulties in the talus and brush near the lake’s inlet. After consulting the GPS and getting back on the trail, I continued to the base of the Bell Cord Couloir at 10,300 feet, where I put on my crampons and helmet and began using my ice axe. I started up the mellow snow slopes to the climber’s right of the “garbage chute” and contoured back left to enter the steep cirque between the east faces of North and South Maroon.

By first light, around 4:50 a.m., I had climbed to about 11,400 feet. Maroon Lake gleamed far below like a jewel in the otherwise dark valley.

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The snow was in perfect condition for climbing in crampons–crunchy and supportive, but not icy. The entire cirque was strewn with old avalanche debris and rock fall, both of which were good reminders to be off the snow before it got too warm. However, none of the avalanche debris appeared to be recent. The snow was very featured, as eastern exposure had created suncups that worked as stair steps, taking some of the strain off my legs. In the middle of the couloir, a large runnel (ranging from 1-2 feet deep and 3-4 feet wide) had developed as the product of melt water and rocks running down the couloir, and this feature made it harder to switch between the couloir’s left and right sides.

The Bell Cord Couloir climbs the narrow (15-foot-wide) slot between South Maroon (left) and North Maroon (right). The base of the true couloir can be seen in the center of this picture, taken from around 12,000 feet.

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I Am a Traveler of Both Time and Space / To Be Where I Have Been

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Some icicles clung to the ruddy rocks that form the couloir’s walls, shimmering with the warm light of dawn. They provided another visual reminder of the melting that would occur later in the day.

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The Bell Cord is a very enjoyable climb, as the snow maintains a very consistent degree of steepness, and the views are stunning. These pictures show the views down the couloir and up to the notch from about 13,600 feet, just below the top of the couloir.

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The snow climb finished with a finale of about 10 feet of steeper climbing over a headwall to the saddle between the Maroon Bells. This photo looks back down the couloir from the top at 13,750 feet. I topped out in the saddle around 6:20 a.m., meaning that I climbed 3,400 vertical feet of steep snow in almost exactly 2 hours. These couloirs are pretty good aerobic exercise I guess.

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I had some fun playing with shadow selfies in the notch. At this point, I got my first view to the west, and the weather was looking even better than forecast. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and there were only a few innocent-looking clouds far in the west. The sky was a huge, calm, blue dome.

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I took off my crampons and started the final scramble to the summit of South Maroon Peak, the higher of the two Bells. The rubble-strewn ledges were generally dry, and I took the 4th-class variation to get on the ridge sooner. A few errant snow patches required caution, but the route was overall very straightforward.

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The final summit ridge had enough snow to make crampons a good idea. I think this part of the route looked like something from the Alps. In reality, it was easy and aesthetic snow ridge climbing, albeit with some serious exposure to the east. I checked for cornices before crossing, and there were none. Regardless, I stayed as close to the obvious rock outcroppings as possible.

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At last, I walked onto the gorgeous snow-capped summit just before 7 a.m., making for a time of just over 4 hours from the parking lot. There was a small cornice on the east side, so I was careful to stay away from the edge. There was still no wind, and the magnificent Elk Range spread out in silence all around me. This was my first successful 14er in the Elks, and it couldn’t have been more ideal.

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Talk and Song from Tongues of Lilting Grace / Whose Sounds Caress My Ear

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The Maroon Bells cast distinctive and beautifully jagged shadows into the snow-covered Fravert Basin, the headwaters of the North Fork of the Crystal River. In the distance, the 12ers of the Raggeds Wilderness cut a–dare I say—ragged profile.

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But Not a Word I Heard Could I Relate / The Story Was Quite Clear

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Despite the perfect ambiance, I couldn’t stay on the summit too long. I still had a lot of work ahead of me, and I wanted to be back down to the valley before the snow heated up too much. At this point, I had three options: reverse the Bell Cord, descend the standard route of South Maroon, or traverse to North Maroon. I decided to go ahead and try the traverse since it looked fairly dry, I was on schedule, and the weather was perfect. This view shows North Maroon from the upper slopes of South; the red line approximates the traverse.

In his guidebook, Gerry Roach points out that the traverse is only a few hundred yards across as the eagle flies, but he adds, “you are not an eagle.” You’re right Gerry, I can’t fly. Time to do some scrambling.

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After returning to the top of the Bell Cord, it was time to connect the two notes of the Bells to make a chord. This view looks back to the upper slopes of South Maroon from the beginning of the scrambling on the traverse.

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The first difficulty involved a few dozen feet of 4th class scrambling on dry ledges and solid, positive holds. I basically went up the obvious slot in this picture to the cairn visible on the bump in the upper left, contoured climber’s left (west), and climbed another 20 feet to the ridge crest. All of this was perfectly dry.

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Back on the ridge crest, I was presented with this disheartening view of the next section. It looks steeper than it is. I walked along a flat section of the ridge and climbed straight up 4th class blocks and chimneys to the rap station on top of the second difficulty. The actual climbing portions of this area were dry, but there were a few trivial snow patches to negotiate on the flat sections of the ridge.

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At this point, the vista of South Maroon becomes much more dramatic. The ridge looks much more intimidating when viewed from the north. This photo looks back on my route over “Spire #1” to the base of the second cliff band. Note that a large portion of the route (from the top of the Bell Cord through the first difficulty) is not visible.

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This view looks down on my route through the second difficulty from right next to the rap station. The exposure is pretty intense here, but the climbing felt secure since I managed to wedge myself in a narrow dihedral for most of the way. All of the holds through this part were dry.

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From the top of the second difficulty, I gained a brief reprieve on a flat section of the ridge before being confronted with the third difficulty. The route’s technical crux is getting up the 20-30 foot shadowed cliff band in the extreme left of this picture.

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The easiest route climbs a narrow dihedral over moderate exposure. There was a little bit of ice in the back of the slot, but the holds were all dry and generally solid. This section actually did not feel as difficult or frightening as some would have you believe. I can see why Gerry Roach rates it 4th class, but I would also agree with a rating of 5.0. Mountain Project lists the traverse as 5.2, but in my experience, the 5.2 routes in the Flatirons are a lot more challenging than this slot. The crux climbing on the Maroon Bells Traverse felt more reminiscent of the juggy West Chimney of Navajo Peak (generally rated 4th class) than the wild west face of the 2nd Flatiron (also rated 5.2 in Mountain Project). However, the climbing still should not be underestimated, and there is enough loose rock to make it mandatory to test every hold. Anyway, here are some pictures looking up and down the crux rock section.

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From the top of the third difficulty, I strolled along the gentle ridge towards “Spire #2,” a squat gendarme on this otherwise flat section of ridge. Without snow, the obstacle can supposedly be passed easily on the east (climber’s right). However, in mid-May, the east side was a 45+ degree snow slope with a bad fall line. I was presented with a new crux: either traverse a dozen feet of steep snow in a no-fall zone, or make a few committing rock moves up the face of the spire. The rock moves looked like they could easily be 5.6 or higher, and I was not up for soloing that sort of climb in hiking boots. I could have turned back, as I would have been comfortable downclimbing the previous sections, but the snow was still solid and I had the right gear and ice axe experience to make it safe. The traverse it was.

In this photo, the section in question is approximated by the closest section of solid line on the right side of the small tower.

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I donned crampons and carefully kicked steps across the perfect spring snow, and with my ice axe plunged to the hilt, I felt secure. Still, I was happy to be back on rock. This photo looks back at the traverse. The steepest part is out of view since I didn’t pull out my phone mid-crux.

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From here, the route to the summit was a straightforward and almost dry 3rd-class scramble. I took some detours to avoid snow patches but still kept the route below class 4.

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I crested the snow-capped summit of North Maroon Peak around 8:45 a.m. and was once again rewarded with outstanding views in all directions. This angle pairs the otherworldly red of North Maroon’s summit rocks with the range’s western 14ers. As you can see, the sky was still remarkably clear, and the wind was still null.

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This panorama shows South Maroon and the imposing connecting ridge. It was hard to believe that I had just crossed that, as it looks so difficult from North Maroon. This view also makes the route look very snowy; in reality, I was only on snow for maybe 10% of the traverse.

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Ooh, Baby, I Been Flying

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Oh Father of the Four Winds Fill My Sails / Across the Sea of Years / With No Provision but an Open Face / Along the Straits of Fear

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I relaxed on the summit for longer than I should have, since it was critical to get down through the snow as early as possible. There were two possible descent routes: the standard northeast ridge and the less-common northwest ridge. I looked down the standard route and decided it looked way too snowy, and it was all east facing, which meant that it would probably involve rotten snow in steep gullies and on ledges. Instead, I opted for the shaded, drier northwest ridge. This route is actually very straightforward and only required a few 4th class downclimbs over short rock steps; the rest was steep hiking. Toward the bottom of the ridge, I had to climb back over a small pyramid-shaped tower on the ridge. This photo shows a cool gendarme in the notch just before the tower on the ridge.

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Shortly after 10 a.m., I reached the base of the northwest ridge in a sharp notch just above 13,000 feet called the Gunsight. My plan was to downclimb the Gunsight Couloir, which is so inset that it was shaded for most of the morning and thus less likely to be unstable. However, the top was guarded by a significant cornice. After inspection, I decided that the cornice was stable enough and would likely stay that way (it was still shaded), so I carefully but quickly downclimbed the upper section of the couloir. This photo shows the view down the couloir and part of the cornice.

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The upper 400 feet of the couloir was fairly steep, so I faced in and kicked steps. I had correctly judged the sun aspect, as the snow was just beginning to be soft enough to downclimb and was in no danger of sliding in a loose-wet avalanche. I got into the rhythm of plunging the ice axe, step down with one foot, kick twice, step down with the other foot, kick twice, repeat. It was baking hot with the reflected sun, but the snow remained in great condition all the way down the couloir. This photo shows the view back up from where it mellowed out.

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Once the slope angle eased off, I was able to glissade for several hundred feet into the massive snowy cirque between the north face of North Maroon and the east face of Sleeping Sexton. Here’s a photo looking back into the cirque from lower down. Notice the narrow gunsight couloir coming down from the low point in the ridge (far right of the photo).

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I traversed some more snow-covered benches to reach the standard approach to North Maroon and followed that route down a gully to cross the creek in the bottom of Minnehaha Gulch. I was off the snow by 11:20 a.m., and I was just beginning to sink up to my ankles in the snow. Overall, I think I timed the snow conditions perfectly. The sun was now high enough to cast a little light onto Pyramid’s sheer west face, seen here above the creek in Minnehaha Gulch.

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Here’s a view back to the snowy slopes and gully I descended from the cirque to the creek. The gully just right of center made for a great glissade.

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The trail back to Crater Lake alternated between muddy sections and mushy snow drifts, but the snow gradually gave way to dry ground, and before long, I was back to Crater Lake. It was shocking to go from complete solitude on the peaks to the busy tourist scene at the lake. I had worn a helmet all day, so my hair looked rather insane, I had sunscreen smudged carelessly on my face, and I had an axe and helmet strapped to my pack. I clearly didn’t fit in with the well-groomed selfie crowd, and they kept their distance.

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The last mile and a half to Maroon Lake dragged on in the heat, but eventually I returned to Maroon Lake around 12:50, making for a round trip of just under 10 hours for the 9 miles that included 5,700 vertical feet of elevation gain. I had been the only car in the parking lot when I had started, but now every spot was filled and a car waited to fill my spot as soon as I departed.

So, here’s some concluding thoughts on doing this in May. First off, the snow level this year is lower than normal. The Colorado River Basin (which includes the Bells) is under 60% of normal and the snow level is more in line with typical late May levels. Still, the traverse was surprisingly dry overall, and all of the rock scrambling sections were dry. I would definitely not attempt any routes on the Bells right now without crampons and an axe (and plenty of experience using them). The Bell Cord was in perfect conditions, but the Gunsight Couloir needed more time to shed its cornice. The crux snow section on the traverse was interesting, and it was definitely good to hit it early in the day while the snow was not rotten. If I were going to do the traverse again in similar conditions, I would come in from Snowmass Creek, ascend the melted-out west side of the Gunsight, rappel the crux traverse sections, and descend the standard route of South Maroon and loop back into Snowmass Creek. I think that would be the safest way to do the traverse this time of year. However, coming from that side, you miss the best snow climbing of the whole route in the Bell Cord. In summary, I had fun, I made sure every section was safe, and I got both summits, so what more could I ask for?

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My Shangri-La Beneath the Summer Moon / I Will Return Again

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(All lyrics are from Kashmir from Led Zeppelin)