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I had attempted this peak before in May of 2001 and had been turned back because
of difficulty finding the trail leading up to Lindsey's basin. On that trip,
there was too much snow to navigate in the trees reasonably (I didn't bring
gaiters) and after scrambling on the talus below Point 12,410 discovered I
wasn't any closer to intersecting the trailhead than when I started. To date,
this is the only failed attempt at a fourteener I have had. Frustrated, and
determined to conquer this mountain, I set my sights on climbing it before the
year was out.So I returned again on October 13th with an unyielding resolve to
summit Lindsey once and for all. Even with half a foot of snow on the ground
(see photo on right) I was ready to tackle this obstinate and unwilling peak
(many others have had much less difficulty).
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Once again I couldn't find the trail. Roach has made some comments before
about how good the trail is for Mount Lindsey. Perhaps this is because it was
constructed inadvertently by foot traffic rather than an organization (though I am not sure of
its origin at all). In any case, I couldn't disagree more depending on the time of year
. After picking a
spot to cross the river, which was pleasantly low this time of year, I made my
way up through the trees and was confronted with several cliff bands. With
ice and snow abound, the only viable way up involved class 4 moves and small
gullies. It took two hours to reach the crest of the slope, which would have been a
relief, except that all the snow above treeline was being blown in sand-sized
crystals at 70+ miles per hour.
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On the left above, you can see the snow forcing its
way rather quickly past Lindsey. In my mind, I thought the worst was over,
now that I could actually see Lindsey this time. This was the case, for a
spell. With the snow, it was difficult to find the trail even from here.
I just meandered towards Lindsey (trying hard to keep my balance in the wind).
After passing the south side of Iron Nipple, I spotted what I thought was a
trail leading up the Lindsey/Iron Nipple saddle. Indeed I had found it. I
followed it along to the point where it becomes a ridge, when almost being
blown off my feet by the force of the wind.
I wanted to give up, with frozen wet feet and bone-chilling temperatures
(to date I have never been so cold). After a few minutes laying on my back,
I mustered up what determination I had left and continued on to the saddle.
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Once reaching the saddle, there was a temporary repreive from the weather. Lindsey looked sparklingly devoid of snow due to the wind, though in places this was not the case. There is a decent trail along the saddle to the forst couloir. this couloir is much like Mt. Sneffels' couloir, except that the talus is smaller and thus more loose. The snow might have been an advantage in consolidating it, however. This couloir is pretty easy to ascend. From the top, the route to the next couloir follows a narrow ledge with decent dropoffs to the left (north). I opted to go for the ridge instead, seeing that the next couloir was steeper and filled with loose snow, thus eliminating means of finding good handholds. I would later return down this route, as it was a lot easier to slide down it than attempt climbing up it. Without the snow, however, this would be by far a better route. As it was, I ended up doing some class 4 moves to get to the ridge and avoid slipping on the snow and ice. Once reaching the apex of the ridge, you can see that there is a false summit before reaching Lindsey proper.
I was so tired by the time I reached the summit, I really didn't get the thrill I usually do. The joy of conquering Lindsey, like some mountains is looked back upon with greater fondness than what is produced during the climb itself. I was just content to have done it, so I signed the register and headed back down. The wind and blowing snow had come back, so it didn't make sense to stay on the summit very long.
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