Kern-Kaweah and Kaweah Basins

Holed up at Colby Lake...again. There was a bunch more snow than this on Colby Pass. Picture by Dave E.

A Blizzard on Colby Pass

Kern-Kaweah and Kaweah Basins via Colby Pass, September, 2000.

I marched down the trail trying to make my best time, and by the time I had reached the end of the long meadow and crossed the stream, I began to feel an occasional strike of water, or perhaps something harder. The next section twisted about gaining altitude, but I could not see the pass. Finally I reached an area where I could see the pass, and sure enough, I could see that Dave was slowly making his way up to the summit. By that time it was really overcast and ice crystals were pelting me but mostly bouncing off. It was getting colder by the minute and the rate of the icy rainfall was building in intensity. As I approached the level section near the rocky barren lake, the ice had turned to snow clumps and snow, and the weather conditions could be characterized as snowfall. I stopped just long enough to put on my Gore-Tex jacket and tried to fly up the hill to the pass as quickly as possible. The snowing intensified and my hands were getting cold despite the light gloves. After I covered maybe half the distance from the lake to the pass, I tucked my hands into my pockets, dragging my poles from my wrist straps. The ground rapidly became covered with snow by that point and I really wanted to use my poles, and for the more difficult sections I pulled my cold hands from my pockets and poled my up for a while then quickly got them back in my pockets. Finally, at last, the top of the pass came into view and the last few trudging feet seemed to take forever. My first instinct was to just continue on because the snow was now a blizzard, visibility was about ten feet, and everything was covered with about three inches of snow and getting deeper by the second. But when I stepped below the summit of the pass I was hit with a nearly gale force wind and a freezing blast of snow that convinced me to seek some shelter from the wind. I retreated to the summit of the pass behind some rocks that blocked the wind. Now the conditions were nearly a whiteout and the thick snow was coming down in chunks and piling up. I realized right then that my next decisions in the next few moments had to be the right ones and my life depended on making only the right decisions. In studious haste I threw down my pack and pulled out my down coat. I put on my pile shirt, my down coat, and pulled on the Gore-Tex shell and a pair of pile gloves. I then jerked on a pair of Gore-Tex pants then zipped and buttoned everything up. I tightened my hat chinstrap, put my camera in a side pouch and threw on my backpack after I put on the pack cover. All the while I did this I had to knock off snow that rapidly piled up on everything. I picked up my poles and I was ready to go. I actually began to warm up some, but I was not about to wait around and enjoy it. I marched over to the summit on thick snow and once again I was immediately hit by the incredible arctic blast coming up over the pass. This time I was prepared and it was endurable. I immediately wished I had put on something to cover my face because the chilly blast was nearly frost biting my face. I carefully poled my way down the trail, occasionally using my gloved hand to warm my face. The north side of the pass is as about as steep as a pass can be, basically a trail built into a steep talus slope. Once again I was glad the "unmaintained" trail was in excellent shape and easy to follow. I was not having too much trouble due to the fact I had poles and the consistency of the thick snow actually added traction in some situations. The rock-bins were still a pain in the butt with snow slick rocks moving around beneath my feet, and hidden from sight by the snow.

Another look at "Blizzard Camp" at Colby Lake. It was actually comfortable once camp was set up.

Once below the pass a ways and below the rocky top balconies that typified the top of the trail near the pass, the wind died down by measures and it just became a task of moving carefully down the trail while making good speed over the thick snow covering the trail. My next worry was the level section below, and the fear I would lose the trail beyond that level section. When I finally got there I breathed a sigh of relief because the trail was a white easy to follow trough, the snow had let up some and I was off the most dangerous part of the trail.

There was no sigh of any of Dave’s footsteps on the trail, a testament to the intensity of the storm. I determined not to let up on my concentration, having learned that lesson the hard way in the Murro Blanco. I stomped resolutely down the trail choosing every step of the way. At one point I slipped on a snow-hidden slab and got dumped to the ground, but I was prepared for even that and landed safely. The trail, nearly hidden now in places, meandered through the white landscape, turning the return trip to Colby Lake into something completely new. The snow settled down to flurries and visibility improved, so it was just a job of picking my way down the ramps and switchbacks. The lake came into view but I hardly noticed due to my concentration on the trail. At long last the trail reached the lake edge and I heaved another sigh of relief. Crossing the wet inlet section was interesting, but no big deal after crossing a 12,000-foot pass in a blizzard. The trail began to climb causing me to instantly overheat. The conditions had improved and it was much warmer than it was on the pass so far above me.

As I came over the last rise above the cliff over the lake, I saw a concerned Dave below me near the camp area. When I saw him I burst into song and I sang or at least bellowed in tune, "Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the weather inside is delightful…"!

We engaged in an adrenaline-drenched conversation describing our recent exploits on the pass and how we dealt with the situation. I told him that for a few moments up there I thought about turning back, finding a level spot and crawling into my bivy-tent to wait out the storm. Things had turned out well for both of us.

We determined we had had enough of snow covered trail for one day and decide to spend yet another night at the beautiful Colby Lake. After all, the storm could blow up again, and it was a long and slippery way to the next potential campsite.

The first order of business was to plow aside the snow to place our shelters on dry ground, and that became an easy task. The snow practically rolled up like a blanket revealing dry turf. We quickly threw up our shelters in the falling snow, and populated the insides with our belongings. Before long my pack was under a tree protected by its pack-cover, and all my gear was in my bivy-tent. Not long after that I was snug and warm inside in my down bag enjoying my book to the tune of pelting snow on the tent fabric. It was not even noon yet.

Occasionally I had to slap the snow off the sides of the tent, but other than that I was enjoying myself. The view out across the lake was interesting when my book was not. I had my lunch handy and plenty of water so life was good. Dave had set up in a small hollow and was faring equally well. Around dinnertime the snow let up for a while and we set up the kitchen and had a hot meal. Once the chores were done and pictures taken we were reluctant to retreat to our shelters, however the cool weather and approaching dusk forced us to our bags. I spent the night lulled by the whispering sounds of the occasional snowfall hitting my shelter. Quite a day.