Hells Hole

Description

Elevation: - 12,517' maximum elevation
Location - Southwest of Idaho Springs in Colorado.

Trip Report(s)

Along with Scott Gomer Basin, I've probably been to the West Chicago Creek drainage and Hells Hole more times than anywhere else. Part of that is proximity - both are in the Mt. Evans Wilderness area (the former on the southwest side, this one on the northeast). Both are an hour or so drive from Denver. Both share the added attraction of not being as popular as other places in the area (Mt. Evans and Mt. Bierstadt, the two 14ers, naturally draw most of the crowds, especially since Evans has a road to the top!) In the winter, you can go up either valley and if you hike high enough, can get completely away from people, breaking new trail as far as you want to go. Combine all of the above with the fact that they are pretty areas for hiking and backpacking, and they are the default destinations when nothing else seems suitable.

The West Chicago Creek drainage is a long hanging valley with a stream flowing down the middle. Your typical Colorado. The first mile (or two, if it's winter and the road is blocked lower down) from the trailhead at 9,800' is an unexciting trudge through the trees. Then there is a hard uphill part for about half a mile until you reach the valley proper. From there it is just a long pleasant hike uphill. The valley wall to the west comprises the ridge that makes up the eastern Clear Creek valley wall when you are driving up to Guanella Pass from Georgetown. The high point on this ridge is Sugarloaf Mountain (12,517'). The southern terminus of the valley, Hells Hole (11,200'), is ringed by cliffs on the north face of Gray Wolf Mountain (13,602').

I have no real trip reports for Hells Hole, just a bunch of random memories. Also, surprisingly, in all the times I've been up there, I've only taken two (2) pictures - that I can find, at least. Mike owes me a bunch of photos he has taken from our trips, so hopefully I can supplement this page later with some of those.

My first solo camping experience, and my first winter camping experience since the miserable trips with the Boy Scouts in the 1970s, was up Hells Hole in the winter of 1996-1997. I had a good time, though looking back now, I am ashamed at how far I didn't go. On another solo winter trip I camped on a saddle above the valley at 10,800' and that night as I sat in my tent (so much of winter camping is just that - spending the long dark night hours in the tent staying warm - bring a book!) I heard something walking outside the tent. When I spoke, I heard it run away a bit, then howl - a coyote! The next morning I was able to see he had come right up to the tent and sniffed. Pretty cool.

On a solo winter snow shoeing trip I was up toward the valley's end, breaking new trail across a meadow far past where the last people had stopped, when suddenly I was up to my armpits in snow, my feet trapped under the willows I had been walking across. The "meadow" was actually full of willows under the snow, and I had walked along unaware until I hit an air pocket in the packed snow and then fallen through. I didn't panic (well, maybe for 30 seconds, thinking about how all alone I was, and how cold it was being buried in the snow), then analyzed the situation and laid back in the snow. From there I was able to carefully extract each foot, working to get the snow shoes out from the tangle of branches in which they were caught. It was hard, careful, cold work, because I couldn't see my feet under the snow and branches, and I didn't want to lose a snow shoe, because getting back would've been "difficult" without it, the snow being very deep and powdery that year.

Another snow shoeing memory is when I went up one weekend and decided to go west from the trailhead instead of south along the trail, breaking new trail up hill through the knee deep powder (very hard!). After a mile and about 1,000' elevation gain, I turned around and went back. The next weekend I came back, found my trail, found that no one else had been on it (because it was going "nowhere" and straight up hill with no switchbacks), and so I continued up it, quickly going the one mile on my now packed and crusted tracks from the prior weekend, and then breaking new trail beyond it for another mile and 1,000' of elevation, making it finally to the summit of Griffith Mountain (11,568') and just breaking out of timberline for some good views down the valley. Quite the workout, and quite fun, too. I am very proud of this if just for the effort it took. In the summer Griffith Mountain would be a pleasant jaunt of just a few hours.

I've day hiked the valley in the summer, too. Mike and I went up to Hells Hole one summer, then mounted the ridge to the west via a saddle at 12,000' and followed the ridge to Sugarloaf Mountain, enjoying the views of the very steep drop below us into the Clear Creek drainage. We then descended, sans trail, through deadfall, willows and very marshy slopes (it was early summer, and the snow had just melted). The routefinding to stay out of the marshes and totally tangled deadfall areas was an effort, but we made it back to the Hells Hole trail, and it had been worth it for the views off the peak.

During one of our last winter trips up the valley, Mike and I camped overnight and then snow shoed up to Hells Hole, going quite a ways above timberline, but not making the saddle again because of weather. While we were puttering around at the upper end of the basin, we came across a worrisome sight (and site) - a tent, partially buried under the snow, no recent tracks anywhere near it. After considering what we might see, we looked in through the partially unzipped, snow drifted door, and could see the tent had a sleeping bag, stove and other gear strewn about in it, but luckily no corpse. When we were driving out later that day we stopped at the ranger station in Idaho Springs and mentioned it to the ranger. His response was "Oh - there was a guy that died after a fall climbing on Gray Wolf Mountain there last autumn - I bet that's his camp!" It was a sobering thought, that - and amazing that no one had bothered his tent (or come looking for it!) in the time since. It also strangely reminded me of "The dead man in Yossarian's tent" (who wasn't there, either) from the book "Catch-22".

Like I said, I only have two photos that I can find, and they are similar, so only one is below. Photos follow.

Photos

Home

Copyright © 2003 - James Lehmer - All Rights Reserved.