TRAVERSING ROLLINS PASS

REVISITING A 1933 SKI TRAVERSE OF ROLLINS PASS

By John Lacher

Ascending to Arestua Hut. Jim Dlouhy

A good many years ago I entered the Historical Mail Route Ski Race. We went up over one of Colorado’s many Cottonwood Passes from US 40, south of Granby to Hot Sulphur Springs. The course was about eight or nine miles. We were well outfitted with lycra, carbon fiber ski poles, and skating skis. This race commemorated the men who carried the winter mail from Empire to Hot Sulphur Springs during the later years of the 19th century. They skied over Berthoud Pass on handmade wooden skis, bringing the mail to people in Middle Park. During those years, there was no reliable winter transportation into that part of the state. Because this race honored their legacy, we had to carry weights in our packs. I believe it was 12 pounds. At the end of the race, we gathered at the Grand County Historical Museum to receive our shirts, rewards, and glasses of warm apple cider. We had entered that great fellowship of hardy mountain skiers.

Afterwards, I read about these pioneer skiers. ey were rather stout fellows. One man, Bill Kimball, had the route in 1875. He was described as “. . . a wonder, the best snowshoe man ever known in Middle Park. His pack was never less than 70 pounds of mail, and I have known him to carry 105 pounds. He often packed through from Empire to Hot Sulphur, going night and day, with no sleep, stopping only for meals. He never wore gloves, and only one pair of wool socks, with ordinary cityman’s rubber over them"1. During this time skis were usually called Norwegian snowshoes or just snowshoes.

After hearing about Kimball, our heroic e ort seemed somewhat diminished.

Recently, Doug Long shared a letter with me that his dad, Carleton Long, wrote in l933 describing a ski traverse from below the East Portal of the Mo at Tunnel to the West Portal by way of Arapaho Lakes. is was done on February 25 in company with Bob Clifton and Bob Fernie. I was hooked. e letter reads in part:

We left Tolland at 2 am and were able to drive part way to East Portal in a car. When snowdrifts stopped the car, we walked up the railroad track to East Portal. is point we left at 3:45 am and followed up the valley of South Boulder Creek for a scant mile before turning north and up the wall of the canyon. Incidentally peculiar hazards were encountered while on the oor of the

Wagon road, above Rollins Pass. Jim Dlouhy

canyon. In the old days (and again while the tunnel was being bored) there were people living along this valley. And, as such people frequently do, they strung clotheslines in their backyards. Ours was the misfortune to choose these backyards for a ski route. In the darkness of the night we would occasionally run the tips of one or both skis under a partially snow-buried clothesline. Trying to shake o the loose wire presented all the comical (but not to us) aspects of a movie comedian trying to remove sticky- ypaper (Tanglefoot!) from his hands. Oh, life in the great outdoors certainly does present its hardships and obstacles!

Some distance further on we really did have an obstacle. We had just crossed over an old mine workings feeling our way gingerly along in the darkness for fear of breaking through the snow crust of an open shaft (a somewhat remote but nevertheless distinct possibility) when we came to a steep snowdrift the face of which it was necessary for us to mount. It would have presented no unusual aspects had it not been for the breakable crust. It was a thin, hard crust that almost but not quite would hold our weight. Beneath the crust and going down to an unknown depth was loose, powdery snow. We averted the danger of plunging through the crust and on down into the loose mass beneath by carrying a ski under each armpit. en when we broke through, we had the skis to hang onto. It was quite a strenuous job to surmount this drift because of the great exertion and e ort necessary to progress even a few feet.

Up in the higher timber the skiing was wonderful. A cruel wind had buffeted us about almost unmercifully on our way to East Portal, but now not even a breeze disturbed the quietness of the before-dawn solitude. Only the reassuring “slick-slick” of our skis broke the cold silence as we passed smoothly along beneath the frost-covered trees. e sun rose at 6:40 ooding the forest with great beams of orange and pink light, hues which the crystals of last night’s fresh fall of snow re ected back and forth like a scintillating array of miniature diamonds. Here the waiting wind once more grasped at us with icy cold talons. Onward we pushed seeking some sheltered cove where we might nd enough respite from the galling gale to hold a council of war. At length we found a rock against the ice side of which we crouched and talked things over. It seemed reasonable that the closer we approached to the base of the divide, the less the wind would actually hit us, because most of it would be going over our heads. is surmise proved to be correct, and by the time we were ready to attack the nal slope only an occasional vagrant breeze disturbed the fresh snow surface. e snow eld we were about to push up rose at an even angle of thirtythree degrees for a thousand feet right up to the crest of the divide. We alternated between kicking steps and digging steps with the heel of a ski. Neither method was very satisfactory, and both were quite tiring. In fact the slope was most boring, the only consoling feature

Larry Withman, next to the Arestua Hut. Jim Dlouhy

Steep climb up to Rollins Pass. Jim Dlouhy

Rifle Sight Notch Trestle. Jim Dlouhy

being the knowledge that, once surmounted we were THERE. Forty- ve minutes later, at ten o’clock to be exact, we reached the crest. e view of winter mountain scenery was, of course, superb. A light, cold breeze was blowing. e day had turned out to be one of those cloudless scorchers which we occasionally have in February. ree hundred yards down the western side of the divide we reached skiable snow. It was considerably wind blown, consequently the skiing a orded was rather sporty.

From timberline on down we had an uneventful ride. We said “hello” to

Graeme McCowan at West Portal an 1:45 pm. A couple hours later we caught the train back through the tunnel and retrieved our car. Bob Clifton recalled the trip in a 1993 letter to Doug Long:

Carleton, Bob Fernie and I packed our long skis and climbed over the Continental Divide at Rollins Pass in February one year and at the top put on our skis and slid down to what was later called Winter Park, then rode the train back through the Mo at Tunnel to

East Portal, all in one day. At Winter

Park we learned they were using skis that were less than nine feet long and more maneuverable. We took the hard way, but life seemed sweeter then. After sharing the letters with CMC members Larry Withman and Jim Dlouhy, we resolved to do the trip. Well, not exactly the same trip, but close. Since we didn’t have to be back to Boulder for classes, we decided on two days. We also elected not to climb up the rather steep 33-degree slope above Arapaho Lakes. We eschewed riding the train back, but elected to stash a car. We would stay in the Arestua Hut above Eldora Ski area. is would give us a closer approach, a good warm meal the night before, followed by a pleasant evening discussing the various aspects of retirement plans and health care packages. is Rollins Pass tour is described in some older Colorado ski tours books, such as Richard DuMais’s 50 Colorado Ski Tours.

On March l8, three intrepid snow voyagers deposited skis and packs near the Eldora Nordic Center, parked the truck back by the o cial trailhead, and geared up in full Eldora meteorological conditions. e trail to the Arestua Hut climbs along the east side of the alpine slopes, crosses a ridge, and descends westward into the Jenny Creek drainage. Once in the trees, the wind decreased, gentle snow fell, and silence was supreme. e day was wonderful, and the fresh snow a testimonial to the joys of getting o and making rst tracks. We had decided to not push the pace, hoping to arrive rested, and perspiration free. is we did, taking a bit over four hours for the ve miles and about 1,700 vertical feet. is hut is a treasure. It was built by and now maintained by the volunteers of the Boulder Group of the CMC. Available on a rstcome basis, it is out tted with a wood stove, sleeping benches, and a new window, and the Boulder Group only asks for a small donation. Volunteers maintain it during the summer, making necessary repairs and restocking cut rewood. It is small but clean and comfortable.

After lunch we toured around the top of Guinn Mountain on wonderful snow and scouted the route for the following day. We bedded down in comfort, dreaming of a gentle trip. e Geriatric Strike Team awoke to the morning red glow owing through the hut windows. Rather late, but refreshed. Fire, breakfast, co ee, packing, and sweeping up, all guaranteed a nice late start in great weather and with good snow. Proceeding westward toward the top of Guinn Mountain, we reached the old wagon roadbed, and descended gently to the bottom of a snow-crusted ridge. e ridge gains about 200 vertical feet before reaching the old railroad bed. Some of the members (3) expressed concern about avalanche possibilities, but the slope was not too steep, and the crust was stable. We climbed up in about 30 minutes, to be greeted by the icy talons of the cold wind, which we had hoped would

Jim Dlouhy, with John Lacher serving as rear scout. Larry Withman Just about to Rollins Pass Road. Larry Withman

be content to wait another day or so. We crossed the roadbed, and carried our skis up along the old wagon road, now thoroughly wind scoured. A few members of the group were saying not very kind things about the wind at this point. e wagon road climbs gradually toward the west, staying 100 or more feet above the railroad grade. A good part was skiable. At the divide we crossed just above Rollins Pass, skied down to the roadbed, and began to descend southward. More lively discussion ensued about the unkind nature of the wind as we skied another three miles or so down toward Ri e Sight Notch Trestle, just at timberline. Although pretty much on the roadbed, the route is not quite as clear when snow-covered and windy.

Oh, and did I mention the wind? e wind improved at Ri e Sight Notch. We believed we were in tall clover from there to the West Portal. We descended steeply southwest from the notch down the south fork of Ranch Creek, cutting o a couple of miles of following the railroad grade. is area is now fairly well used by commercial snowmobile groups, and the trail was a six- to eight-foot-wide trench incised into the snow. e banks are vertical in most places. Not much room to maneuver. It was a luge run. I will not go further, except to say it wasn’t pretty.

We regained the roadbed, and after another half mile turned o again from the roadbed to descend the rest of the way down a recreational road. is road descends the Buck Creek drainage and ends on a Denver Water Board lateral road about a half mile from the Bon ls Stanton trailhead. All of this was accomplished with some artful application of the stem turn, snowplow, puddle skiing, and postholing as the conditions demanded.

Eight hours from leaving the hut, three whipped puppies debarked for the eastern slope with visions of skiing like the men of old. Wooden skis. Iron men. △

Note

1. Jean Miller and Jim Wier, eds., “1859–1950 Skiing in Middle Park,” special issue, Grand County Historical Association Journal 4, no. 1 (January 1984).

* anks to Doug Long and Cathy Gates for sharing information about the 1933 ski trip and showing us Carleton Long’s skis.