Capitol Peak (Part 1): The Approach

-Maroon Bells- Snowmass Wilderness, CO-

Colorado is home to more than 50 mountains that tower 14,000 feet or more above sea level. These mountains, known as 14ers, draw thousands of hikers and climbers each year and offer a variety of experiences, from “easy” class 1 walk-up hikes to the exposed scrambles and climbs of class 3 and class 4 mountains. Even the easiest 14er should not be taken lightly, as hiking in the wilderness at high altitude is inherently dangerous, but with a little preparation, Colorado’s tallest mountains offer some of the most scenic and exhilarating adventures you can find.

I fell in love with peak-bagging after my first 14er summit, the gentle Quandary Peak located right outside Breckenridge. As I began to research more of these peaks, I knew I wanted to do them all. However, one mountain kept popping up in my research that filled me with equal parts excitement and terror. This mountain was called Capitol Peak (14,130') and for one of the first times in my life, I set a challenging goal for myself. One day, despite my fear and anxiety, I would summit Capitol Peak.

In the summer of 2018, I got my chance to meet Capitol Peak face to face. After a summer of working in Grand Lake, Colorado and climbing 14ers every weekend, I felt ready to tackle Capitol. Alongside good friends Stephen and Zoe, I made the four hour drive to Aspen where our three day adventure would begin.

From the parking lot, surrounded by beautiful aspen trees, we looked out and saw Capitol Peak rising above all else at the end of a forested valley. Unfortunately, we also saw storm clouds brewing in the distance and headed our way. Lacing up our boots and making last-minute calls to loved ones in case we didn’t make it back (saying potential last goodbyes was incredibly surreal), it was time to hit the trail and hope we could make it to our campsite before the rain came.

We had about six miles to hike before we would arrive at the campsite by Capitol Lake, directly underneath the looming profile of the mountain. The early portion of the trail was gentle, winding down into the valley before leading us to a stream crossing. Not much longer after the crossing we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. This was now a race to the campsite.

We quickly discovered that outrunning nature rarely works out well for humans and soon found ourselves drenched. Despite the rain and ever nearing thunder, the three of us continued our lonely hike to Capitol Lake, only meeting one fellow hiker heading back to her car along the way. More so than any of our previous hikes, we felt isolated in the wilderness. The only sounds we heard were the steady rain mixed with the distant mooing of cows, punctuated by thunderclaps.

Miles from our car, and not a person in sight, we were alone.

The sun began to dip behind the mountains and we had still not seen any sign of the campsite. The thunder and lightning were dangerously close at this point. My nerves were on full-alert; I was scared of the storm, scared of getting lost in the dark, and scared our trip would fail before it even started. Both of Zoe's feet had painful blisters, slowing our pace as we pressed on and the sun had almost completely retired for the day.

I ran ahead, praying that I'd find a site soon, wincing as lightning struck nearby. At last, I broke into a clearing. Capitol Peak stood to the left, draped in the shadows of dusk. Up ahead on the trail and to the right, a small wooden sign poked out of the bushes pointing to our empty campsite. I breathed a sigh of relief. We made it.