Author Archives: John

About John

John Mattson is an architectural engineer, adventure writer, and photographer who has spent most of his life enjoying the great outdoor adventures that our incredible planet provides. He is an expert kayaker, skier, climber, and a defender of Mother Earth. He has recently self-published a thrilling and colorfully photographed book of 26 diverse and extreme adventure stories. It is entitled "Dancing on the Edge of an Endangered Planet." danceonedge.com. This book took first place in the 2010 CIPA book awards for the legacy category.

Navajo Peak

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Navajo Peak in the Indian Peaks Wilderness of Colorado.
Stream from the Isabelle glacier,
Snow field pitch.
Summit view to the East.
Remnants of a tragic plane wreck.
Isabelle Lake

I awake way before dawn after a somewhat restless night, and start to prepare for the new days event.  The plan is very exciting, but I am also a bit apprehensive about this somewhat serious adventure.

I don’t always climb alone, but the challenge of finding a compatible partner who is willing to awake before dawn can be somewhat challenging, and a bad partner is much worse than being alone.  I thoroughly enjoy just being in the mountains and the solitude invigorates a meditative state that can approach nirvana. I am obviously much more cautious when I am alone, but this forethought elevates my mental attitude, and I become very in touch with the mountain environment that I truly love.

The route that I am hoping to climb is my favorite in the local area. The West Chimney of Navajo Peak involves a fairly long approach, some moderate snow climbing, and a somewhat challenging class 3+ chimney on a fairly remote mountain face. 

I’ve climbed this route twice before, so I know what I’m getting into, but I’ve aged a bit since the last attempt, and know that it deserves respect.

I had made a feeble attempt about a week ago, but a sixth sense and less than perfect weather caused me to turn back early. The alternative was finding shelter from the harsh wind, and spending a lazy morning in an awesome and very secluded high alpine meadow. The meadow was above the extremely popular Isabelle Lake and offered complete solitude and a comfortable bed of soft grass. The wild flowers were in full bloom, and their sweet scent along with the gentle sound of a small raging stream lulled me to sleep in the warm sun. 

I awoke refreshed and enjoyed a casual lunch while enjoying the vista of a now windy and cloudy summit. “I’m really glad that I’m not up there right now.” I thought to my self, as I finished basking in the warm sun.

But, today feels very different, and I’m anxious to finish the challenge. The weather looks perfect, and so are my energy and spirits, as I park my van at the trailhead. A note stating,  “Climbing west Chimney of Navajo. Back by mid afternoon.” is left in a conspicuous location on my dash, and I’m on my way.

The dawn of the new day is starting to brighten the sky as I saunter briskly along the well worn trail to Isabelle lake. The path is lined with some gigantic Fir and Spruce trees that are much older than me and I stop to hug one of the more ancient ones. A pair of does and a young buck are grazing in an adjacent meadow, and a few birds are greeting the dawn, but they are not alarmed to see me.

The first rays of the early morning sun light up the high peaks as Navajo and Apache come into view, and my soul is suddenly invigorated.

A couple of early morning photographers and a young moose great me as I reach the stunning vista of Isabelle lake. But here the main trail ends, as I leave the soon to be busy valley and wander alone into the high alpine zone. The trail has suddenly disappeared, but a maze of grassy ledges and tiny valleys provide for a fairly easy scramble. 

My awareness suddenly kicks in to my extreme mode, because I am aware that even a short stumble could result in a minor injury that could be fatal in this remote place.

I am carrying reasonable survival gear and a loud whistle, but the chance of being found rapidly on this remote mountain face are still slim, so I must be extra cautious. This caution forces a mental attitude that is totally focused and very enjoyable.  All the cares of the world suddenly disappear as I wander upwards concentrating on the task at hand. 

The air is a bit brisk, but the sun is warm, and the views are brilliant. The soft tundra is bursting with tiny plants that only have a few months to live, and they are fully utilizing every moment with great pleasure. The high peaks are still adorned with the remnants of the winter snow and it glistens brightly in the morning sun. But the snow is rapidly melting in the summer sun and has created dozens of clear sparkling streams. The tiny rivers cascade off of the cliffs of the steep walled valley, and the lush banks are adorned with dozens of colorful wild plants and flowers. The combination of the aroma, sound, and view of this pristine paradise awakens my inner senses and my old mind approaches nirvana.

The quickly receding old glacier has left about a hundred new yards of manky scree that involves a frustrating mixture of scrambling and sliding backwards, but I manage to find a reasonable route to the snow, and arrive a bit out of breath. But, my energy quickly recovers, as I stop for a quick snack and attach my crampons.

The next 500 feet or so of the climb involves kicking steps in some fairly firm and somewhat steep (40-45 degree) snow. This is actually about the easiest way to climb a mountain if you have the right skills and equipment, and I do. I have come prepared with one medium length ice axe, a “Whipit” (ski pole with a small ice axe), and crampons. 

The steep snow allows for a rapid ascent, that is much more pleasant than the loose scree.  But, kicking steps in the hard snow is quite strenuous, so I stop a few times to catch my breathe and ponder this awesome paradise. The rhythm of setting a fast pace seems to be more efficient, so I divide the slope into about 5 segments of sprint and rest, and each phase brings me ever closer to the summit.

The cool air feels fresh in my lungs and the blood rushing through my brain clears my mind as the last sprint brings me to the top of the snow. Here, the means of travel will change again and I stop on a comfortable rock to remove my crampons and pack away the ice axes. 

The rest spot is warm and sunny, but the climate suddenly changes as I wander upward onto the shady west face. A brisk breeze is howling through the steep saddle between Navajo and Dicker’s Peck and the usually easy route has been coated with a bit of graupel  from the last thunderstorm. These conditions are not quite what I had expected, but I know the route, the weather is good and don’t wish to turn back now. 

 

I am now extremely aware of my remoteness and the harsh penalties of any mistakes. The normally 3rd class route is partially covered with a thin layer of frozen rain so I proceed with the utmost caution, and my focus becomes even more intense.  A tiny mistake here, could result in a miserable night or the end of my life.

The foot holds are a bit slippery, but the hand holds are solid and I revert to the old climbing rule of always having 3 appendages attached while you carefully move the 4th. The approach to the chimney is extremely exposed and I shudder at the thought of being injured and dying slowly on this remote face. But I know that I am capable of not falling, and mind control is one of the reasons that I’m so fascinated with this intense sport. A few deep breathes help to calm my nerves and the moves are quickly conquered. The next obstacle is about 200 feet of a wide and low angle chimney that resembles a short stairway to heaven. This section gets very little sun, and the holds are cold and icy, but I’m starting to catch a rhythm and enjoy a temporary state of pure bliss as I climb the awesome steps. 

The stairway ends way too soon, and once again I am faced with a slippery traverse. But the moves are easy, the summit is near, and a sunny ledge is beckoning.

This pleasant alcove marks the intersection with the easier “Airplane Gulley” route, and I feel that the climb is almost in the bag, so I drop my pack and take a short break. The nook is warm and comfy, but the summit is beckoning, so I leave my pack, and scramble upward. The route finding here is a bit challenging, and I probably didn’t pick the easiest way, but I manage to arrive on an empty and somewhat breezy summit. This is my favorite Indian Peak, and the views are incredible, but the wind is brisk, and I won’t be able to truly relax till I get back to my pack, so I savor the views for only a few brief moments. I manage to find an easier route on the return voyage and make it safely back to the comfortable ledge.

This tiny and comfortable alcove is out of the wind, the sun is warm, and the quest is all but finished, so I take a long break and thoroughly enjoy the serenity and pristine views.

I have chosen the “Airplane Gulley” for my descent, because it is much easier, and going down is usually more difficult and dangerous than climbing. The summit of most mountains is really only about one half of the journey, and not quite time to relax. The lower part of this route involves unexposed scrambling and sliding on the loose talus and scree, which is much friendlier for descent than climbing. The added vista of the remains of a tragic plane crash add historical value to the otherwise boring route.  The steep scree is quickly descended, and I stop to take one more break in a flowery meadow before descending into the tourist mayhem of Isabelle Lake. My body is tired, but my spirits are high, as I relax in the warm sun and ponder the lofty peak.

 

Letter to an Old Trump supporting Friend

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I was very happy to receive your letter, because I consider you to be a good friend, but I must admit that I was extremely disappointed in you for supporting that fucking orange con artist in the last election. He and the whole Republican party that supports him are one of the most evil organizations in the history of this modern world and I cannot condone the friendship of anyone who still supports them. He is nothing but a  worthless con man, and only claims to be a Christian because the so called Christians vote for him. I don’t believe most of the Bible, but if there really is an anti-Christ, it is definitely DT.  Separation of Church and State is written into our constitution, and the Republican party is not much different than the radical Taliban. There are some very good Christians and they have a right to their beliefs, but I despise the way the Republican Christians are trying to force their values on everyone. Freedom of religion means exactly what it sez, and it does not mean being forced to only pursue the fascist Christian dictatorship.  If you are paying any attention at all, you will see that they don’t give a flying fuck about anyone except their rich friends, and they are destroying this once great country. Who in the hell needs a billion dollars? And why should they not pay taxes? Greed is a disease that is destroying this planet and causing so much suffering to so many people. 


 I think there might be many Gods, but if they have any control over what is happening right now, they are extremely cruel, and don’t have my support. I also do not believe that any just God would send innocent children to hell just because some bozo white christian didn’t manage to make it to their remote village. I believe that this so called Bible is mostly the manufacture of the religious governments and has been used to scare its hapless readers into submission.  The tithe is one of the most obvious examples. Do you really think that Jesus would charge his believers a tax? And what about Noah’s Ark?  Anyone with any sense at all would immediately dismiss this ridiculous fairy tale! Do you have any imagination as to how long it would take for that amount of water to evaporate? (But I guess that the world must have been flat then and it ran off the edges). I have been to 43 countries and many of them numerous times and I’ve read hundreds of books. Every culture that I know of on this planet believes in a God, so why are the Christians so sure that theirs is the only true one?  This continent was Heaven to the Native Americans, and it is being turned into hell in the name of the Christian God.  I find it impossible to believe that any just God would reward a bunch of bozo humans with a new Heaven after they had so greedily destroyed the one that they were given.

Our generation has been extremely fortunate to live in a window of opportunity that may never be repeated. Our grand parents got free land that had been stolen from a native culture who also had Gods. And we had the opportunity to live in a beautiful and peaceful land.

But just imagine being born in a slum in NY, or many of the other equally despicable places in this country, and the world.  There are so many desperate people in this country! No more free land, poison water, horrible minimum wage jobs, expensive rent, and a bunch of greedy billionaires who only care about themselves, and stealing even more money.

The current situation is extremely dire, and I don’t really think that our world will ever be the same. But what we were doing was destroying the planet, so it could have a silver lining. The transition is going to be extremely difficult for lots of people. I feel utterly fortunate to live in a remote paradise, but it’s really hard to be content when so many innocent people are suffering so much. I actually thought that something like this was going to happen a long time ago, and that was my excuse for dropping out of college and going skiing. The current news is all bad, and it’s really easy to become depressed, but my strategy is to embrace nature and try to be a positive force. That is about all we can do, and millions of positive forces can really change the world, and the skiing up here is really good right now. I believe that you have a good heart and your humor is a positive force, but you ain’t going to heaven if you keep supporting Trump and his evil party.

Skiing Mount Toll

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Mount Toll from Blue Lake The ski run is on the left skyline.

Mt Toll is a spectacular peak that towers above the awesome vistas of Blue Lake, in the Indian Peaks wilderness of Colorado, and its somewhat moderate slopes provide one of the best ski descents on the Colorado front range. This peak has become my right of spring passage for quite a few years, and I don’t feel like I’m ready for summer without it.

The steepest mandatory skiing is about 35 degrees and on an open slope so I cautiously wait for stable spring conditions.

This normally occurs in mid May and if the planets align properly, it is possible to ski from the Mitchel lake trail head after an easy 3 mile bicycle approach (The main road usually doesn’t open till late June, but it is usually passable a lot earlier and I find a bicycle a lot better than trudging on the asphalt road).

But 2018 was a bad year for planet alignment in many aspects, and one of them was a closure to all humans on the only access road until late June. This combined with global warming and a low snowpack left a very dismal setting for my annual pilgrimage.

But the road finally opened, and I was in dire need of a ski adventure, so I packed my skis and headed out from the Blue Lake trail head at dawn. 

It was another perfect day in the high Rockies and my spirit soared as I headed out on the empty trail.

The throngs of tourists would be arriving soon, but now the wilderness is almost void of humans and I share the trail with only a couple of deer and a few birds. The air is crisp and clear and I pause for a few moments to smell the air and hug one of the ancient Spruce trees that has been here so much longer than me.

The sun begins to show its face on the high peaks and I’m thrilled, but also somewhat shocked to see the diminished size of the old snow field.

It does look skiable and somewhat inviting, but my normal line is dry and the only remaining snow is on the steep south-east facing coular.  The trail that I normally climb is also very dry, and I don’t find any snow till I am above the brilliant vistas of Blue Lake.

The bright Colorado sun has finally surfaced out of the eastern horizon and it soaks my old body with warmth as I stop to change into my heavy ski boots. The snow has already evolved into a summer glacier like snow pack, so I leave my skis on my pack and kick steps in the partially frozen snow.The slope gradually steepens and the high altitude air is thin, so I stop for a few moments to catch my breathe and ponder the vastness of this great wilderness.

The few early morning hikers have been left far behind, and I am now the only human soul in this grand valley.

The only remaining snow is close to 50 degrees in steepness and somewhat variable in texture so I’m not sure that I want to ski it alone, but it does provides a thrilling snow climb and I somewhat foolishly opt to go for the summit.

Top of the coular. The lookers right side was steep and really icy. but the Talus was worse

The steep frozen snow nearly reaches the top, but some of it is really icy and very steep so I decide not to ski the steepest part. But, reaching the summit requires scrambling on talus with ski boots and an awkward pack which proves to probably be quite a bit more dangerous than the steep coular.

I suddenly wish that I had left my skis at a bit lower spot, but hindsight is always 20 20, and plan B doesn’t seem too terrifying, as I finally reach the top of this awesome peak.

The summit is calm and sunny, but a very friendly marmot is determined to share my lunch and it takes an aggressive defense of small pebble throwing to partially deter him. This peak is not often climbed and he is really determined to befriend me. The barrage of small rocks eventually succeeds, but he retreats only a few feet and continues to watch me. 

The joyful summit is hard to leave, but the thrill of skiing, and the fear of the somewhat ominous task that awaits me makes it very hard to truly relax. 

Scrambling down loose talus in my ski boots and awkward pack proves to be as challenging as I had anticipated, and I suddenly wish that I had just gone for the steep slope, but this annoying obstacle is eventually accomplished. The friendly marmot seems to be concerned for my safely or else extremely hungry and lonely so he follows me back to where I finally start skiing.

The slope is still quite steep and the transition to skis is a bit challenging, but the frozen snow has softened a bit with the early morning sun and provides a joyous descent that makes the scary talus just seem like a bad memory. 

The east face has become a bit runneled from the sun and recent rock fall, but the warmth of the morning sun makes it somewhat reasonable. This mountain has become a popular ski run, but I am the first person to ski it this year so I try my best to carve my ski signature on the virgin slope.

The exposure on the lower slope faces north and is in almost perfect condition, so I carve a set of perfectly symmetrical turns that will only last a few hours. But, I can’t help but stop to admire them as I remove my skis and prepare for the tourist filled trail.