Third Time's A Charm

Ypsilon Mountain in the Mummy Range of Rocky Mountain National Park rises to 13,514 feet. It's an impressive and appealing mountain in the northern part of the park, not the least because it can be climbed as part of a day hike. My first attempt to climb it took place in July of 2007, during my first summer in the area.
The logical approach to the mountain starts from Old Fall River Road, the original park road built in 1920. This dirt road can add considerable time to the drive, but is pretty fun as long as any slowpokes and gawkers use the available turnouts and don't block the way. The Chapin Pass trailhead is near the top of the road, at about 11,000 feet. The trail quickly climbs out of the forest, skirts along the western side of Mount Chapin, then ascends over tundra and rocks to the summit of Mount Chiquita (which always makes me think of bananas) before heading across a saddle to Ypsilon.
Mt. Chiquita was my first "thirteener", and I did notice the altitude more than usual. I took numerous rest stops to look at the scenery (and marmots). I only felt bad about having to catch my breath when an old guy in jogging shorts and shoes, carrying only a bottle of water, ran past me up the mountain.

The clouds were staring to roll in before I reached the top of Chiquita. They didn't look like thunderstorms -- yet-- but I kept my eye on them. The nearest tree was over a thousand feet down, and I wasn't interested in being a lightning rod.


The summit of Chiquita provided a nice view of Ypsilon Mountian, and I have to say I didn't really like the looks of the dark cloud that seemed to hover directly over it.

By the time I'd had a bit of lunch, the rest of the Mummy Range could barely be seen through the clouds. It was time to turn around. Ypsilon would have to wait for another day, but that was okay, because the climb up Chiquita had been fun.

In early August of 2008, I decided to try again. The morning was clear and beautiful, with bright blue skies that boded well.

The wildflowers were at their peak, and I enjoyed taking lots of pictures of the columbine, elephant's head lousewort, paintbrush and king's crown (in the following photo, abundant in the rocks where the marmots and pika made their homes). I saw lots of those cute little animals as well, as I started up Mt. Chiquita.

Once on the summit of Chiquita, I stopped for lunch and entertained myself by marmot-watching. These guys must have been used to hikers, because they didn't seem to have much fear of people.

I descended towards the saddle leading to Ypsilon mountain, watching butterflies and enjoying the hardy wildflowers that seemed to grow right out of the rocks. I saw some white-tailed ptarmigan that obviously trusted to their very effective camouflage. In a few months, the birds would turn completely white to match the snow, but now they blended in perfectly with the rocky terrain.









But when I reached the saddle, things changed dramatically. Clouds appeared out of nowhere. I was part of the way up Ypsilon when I heard the thunder. Before I could even turn around, it started to hail. I hastily put on my rain gear and hurried back down the mountain. I was nearly back to the saddle when I saw a flash of lightning. Abandoning the trail, I headed straight down the slope for the safety of the trees. It was rough going, but better than being the tallest thing around.

Ypsilon thwarted me yet again. I wasn't angry. I have a great deal of respect for these mountains and Mother Nature. And bushwacking through the trees to find the trail again was pretty fun. I saw a herd of elk that I would have missed had the weather allowed me to stay on the path!

So, September of 2010, I decided to try once more. Thunderstorms are a little less common this time of year, and I got as early of a start as I could. It was a beautiful autumn morning. The wildflowers were mostly gone, but the yellow and red colors of the landscape made up for that. In the clear morning light, I could see all the way to the Nokhu Crags area that I had explored early in the summer and even farther north into Wyoming.

The marmots, unfortunately, had already decided to go to sleep for the year. Those lazy gits hibernate for a good eight months! But the pika, who don't hibernate, were still quite busy, laying in their winter stores. This little guy found me as fascinating as I found him.

This time, I decided to take no chances. I skirted around the summit of Chiquita. Lunch would wait until the top of Ypsilon. I wasn't going to take the blue skies for granted.

The climb up Ypsilon was great. It really felt like being on top of the world as I looked down thousands and thousands of feet to mountain lakes and even lower valleys. The cold wind made me don my winter hat and gloves, but kept the skies clear. I made it to the top and had lunch at 13,500 feet.


You have to respect these mountains. Summiting a mountain should not be about conquest, but about experience. Ypsilon was fun to get to know.