A Long Walk: Hayden Spire

I tried to look past my headlamp in the very-early morning darkness, and in all honesty I couldn’t. Matt, Scott, and I had met in a parking lot only less than an hour before, three men on a mission to go to one of the most remote peaks in all of Rocky Mountain National Park. By the end of today, with a little luck and a whole lot of skill and toughness, we would summit Hayden Spire.

Laying on a ridgeline extending from Sprague Peak and off of the western side of Stones Mountain lays a massive crater-like formation of rock and cliffside. Along that cliffside sits a series of huge spires above Hayden Lake, one of many year-round pockets of glaciated lake that sits quiet among the high peaks in the park. Hayden Spire is easily seen from Trail-Ridge Road, and the Forest Canyon Overlook, but never easily reached by any sort of insertion point into the park.

On this particular morning, we had chosen to take the overland approach route to the spire from the Bear Lake Trailhead. This would involve summiting Flattop Mountain, traversing over it’s massive summit area, hiking across over Ptarmigan Point, and then bushwacking along the massive scree and talus field covered with tundra fauna across Bighorn Flats. After that was all said and done, we would then nearly summit Sprague mountain as we gain altitude to meet up with the rock shelf that would take us to the exit ramp onto the final approach to the first pitch of the climb up Hayden Spire. Long story short: before we even had the opportunity to think about climbing, we had a really, really long walk before us.

The approach route to the climb was a little over ten miles. The views however, after summiting Flattop Mountain and getting up above treeline, were much more breathtaking. We began the approach at a blistering pace, summiting Flattop in the fastest time that all three of us had ever been able to get up the trail. This was absolutely hilarious to me, as the last time that I had been up Flattop I was intending to run it, and was not carrying 50+ pounds worth of rope, trad climbing gear, water, and food. As we crested over the summit of Flattop, the wind hit our faces with aggressive, unsynchromatic whips. It was blisteringly cold at the top for being the beginning of August. We stopped for a moment, took off our packs, and put on as many layers as each of us had decided to bring on the trip. I turned off my headlamp and strained my eyes in the growing early morning light to try and see if there were any sort of weather systems on the horizon before us. Only just the day before had two of my good friends and I been turned around on our Mummy Range traverse attempt, as the weather had decided to open up on us in the darkness above treeline.

Matt looked at me and weakly smiled, “Do you want to sit down near the summit ring for a second?” Scott and I obliged, and we took in the sunrise off to our East. Orange and red paint streaks gently rose from the horizon as all three of us nearly synchronized our shivers from the surprisingly cold air. We sat silent as I opened my mouth and mumbled, “I’m pretty cold.” Matt laughed slightly and Scott replied, “Yeah. Me too.” All three of us unanimously decided to get moving again, if not just for the sake of our fingers.

I buckled back on my pack and let Scott take the lead. Out of everyone I had ever met during my escapades into Rocky Mountain National Park, I don’t believe that I had ever met one like Scott Annin. The legend that he was, I am almost entirely sure that you could drop him at any point within the borders of the huge park, and he would know exactly where he was. I couldn’t tell if it was the altitude, the cold, or the constant remarks on surrounding peaks but my brain was clogged with the wealth of information Scott possessed on navigating the park. If only I had his 12+ seasons of experience as a hiking guide in this beautiful expanse of crags and mountain ranges.

I looked up as Matt gained my attention, “You see that ridge up there?” He motioned to a ridgeline before us leading to Ptarmigan Point. “Yeah!” I quibbed, hoping it was near our destination. “Look past that.” Matt continued, “then look past that summit too.” I couldn’t help but smile. He finished, “that’s where we’re going.”

Scott and I laughed as Matt screamed how excited he was. I had to admit, this epic that we had planned for the day had me pretty stoked too. It was just a shame we had five or six more miles to go before we would even be able to see the spire itself. As we passed over Ptarmigan Point, I looked out into the massive alpine meadow that lay before us leading up to the slope of Sprague Mountain. To the west I could see the small brown dots of forty-eight or more elk grazing in the morning sun. to the East a violent cliffside, reminding us of our position on the Continental Divide. Some of the most interesting and challenging formations of rock to climb were found along this stretch of mountain range in the park. I could really understand why.

As we cleared across Bighorn Flats and onto the upslope of Sprague Mountain, the sun began to illuminate the meadow behind us. We were making excellent time and all of us acknowledged it. That is one thing that I have to say about this entire epic, as we never got into any problems with pacing, route finding or tasks that needed to be accomplished. Each one of us knew our strong suits, and we used them together without question. I went by as one of the smoothest trips to the backcountry that I had ever been on.

The three of us nearly crested the ridgeline leading to the summit of Sprague Mountain as we traversed along the large talus on it’s western face. The majesty of Hayden Spire slowly came into full view as we rounded the side of the mountain. I could hear Scott quietly giggle to my front, and Matt screaming to my rear. It was impossible not to get crazy about this thing. It rose before us at the end of a short scramble across a grassy ramp with some class 3 moves. Nothing too complicated. Not too much exposure yet either. Donning our helmets and making our way to the base of the first pitch, the excitement was electric. We had walked this far for this. It was ours now.

Matt and I had the most climbing experience of the three and regularly went out together for awesome alpine climbs in the park, so Scott let us handle setting up all the gear and flaking out the rope before the start of the climb. We worked together silently, checking our protection, and tying in before Matt began to lead the first pitch. The funniest thing to me about Hayden Spire is how much commitment it takes for a climb as simple as it was. The first pitch was 5.4-5.5 in difficulty and felt more like a scramble than anything else. The only thing was was really questionable about it at all was the exposure. Hayden Spire was indeed a spire, and due to that emanating fact, it stood 1,500’+ above the lakes and crags below on all sides, minus the single approach route to the first pitch that we had used. The climbing was easy. The game that you had to play in your mind was not.

Matt topped out on the first ledge and set up and anchor to belay Scott and I to the top. Scott began the climb first, Matt and I coaching him on moves as he eloquently made his way to the top of the first pitch, despite how many times he had been able to climb before this moment. To say that I was truly proud of our team that day would be a gross understatement. We began the short traverse at the start of the second pitch. I assessed the exposure of the climb from where I was positioned at the belay. Below us opened a 1,500’+ drop down into the vast remoteness of Hayden Lake and Forest Canyon below and beyond us. We were certainly “out there.”

Matt slowly made his way up the final, short chimney section and set up an anchor from which again to belay Scott and I from. As I made my way up, collecting our placed cams and protection along the way, I couldn’t help but smile. Only God knew how many people truly had been at this summit in the past three years. We hooted, screamed, and hollered to our hearts’ content at the peak. Around us on all sides lay the vast expanse of Rocky Mountain National Park. We crossed huge alpine meadows, summited two class three peaks and made our way ten or more miles across terrain almost entirely above treeline to get to this one spot. My heart was full.

Scott produced from under a pile of loose rocks near Matt and I the summit register. Looking at it was like touching Estes Park history. Scrawled through the thirty-five or more years of it’s existence lay written the names of legends in the park that I had only been able to see pictures of. That wasn’t event the coolest part. We were the first people to be on the summit of Hayden Spire in the last three years, becoming the 83rd, 84th, and 85th people to have ever set foot on the summit of Hayden Spire since 1938. It’d be a hard moment to have to rappel from such as rare as a place that we were in at that moment.

The rest of the epic continued without any sort of really interesting developments. We rappelled off of the ledge closest to the landing spot at the base of the second pitch, and did the same to the base of the climb itself. If not for the precision rope throwing of Matt, I surely would not have found somewhere suitable to land on the way down. I couldn’t help but feel a sort of bittersweet joy leaving this remote place in the park. I knew that all of us wouldn’t be here again anytime soon. Not planned at least.

We retraced our original overland route to the spire and descended down to Bear Lake Trailhead and to the waiting embrace of Matt’s SUV. The second I sat down I collectively took in an impacting feeling of relief and satisfaction on the day that we had. I felt overwhelming joy at that moment.I couldn’t help but think that maybe the long walk was just worth it.

***ALL WRITING AND PHOTOGRAPHY PROPERTY OF SCOTT ANNIN, MATT SILER, HILLIER ADVENTURE PHOTOGRAPHY AND UNLIMITED EXPLORATION Co.***