Lincoln Falls Minor

The outdoorsy sect of Colorado’s weekend warriors devotes itself to the weather forecasts as Saturday draws nigh. With thousands of feet of topology and hundreds of miles of playgrounds each region is scanned for sunny blue bird days or deep fresh snow. So it was foreordained that I’d find myself enjoying rock in Eldorado with hundreds of trad climbing brethren on Saturday. Sunday prophecies rain in the front range, with several inches of snow up high, and since I’m no longer of the skiing cult, the faithful go ice climbing.

Erick and I got a ridiculously early start (especially given the loss of an hour that we some how “saved” to cash in in autumn) and arrived at the parking area for Lincoln Falls just past dawn. We were the first ones on the ice but were surprised to see three ropes hanging down the start of Lincoln Falls Minor. Erick had climbed here recently and offered me the first lead. I might have picked a bolder line to start with, but I’d brought the rope and Erick the screws. Erick attends Old School, and none of his screws had knobs or levers and without those technological crutches my bravery melts.

I place one of his dinosaur screws at the start, well before I could get pumped and save my two 19cm’s for the upper part of the pitch. Arriving at the bolts, I’m somewhat surprised to see that all three top rope lines are anchored to the same dead tree.

Erick takes the second “pitch” which is mostly a snow ramp to some trees where I get the third rope length to top out at another set of anchors on a large boulder. We’d climbed quickly, and only one other group has walked up the trail, so we figure we can fit in another pitch then get out before the snow and ski traffic gets bad.

After walking to the base, Erick starts up a WI3 line that angles right to the anchors and the dead-tree-anchor. The group who left their lines from the day before shows up while I’m belaying. One student in the group has been overdosing on fresh air and immediately lights a cigarette. I’m thankful when Erick yells “Off belay!” and I can climb outta here.

After scurrying up the route and removing 4 ice screws we thread the rope through the chains and rappel back down. A couple minutes of sorting gear, coiling ropes and removing harnesses and we’re on our way back to the trailhead. Four pitches and it’s not yet 11am.

The snow if falling aggressively by now, and 4 inches or more of new snow easily covers our tracks on trail and road. We decide to sneak home via 285 with the aid of Erick’s studded snow tires and find the wet front range we’d knowingly escaped.

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