White Out | Behind the Canvas with Jim Klein

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant:
if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”
-Anne Bradstreet, first published writer in England’s North American colonies

 

Take a journey back to 1969 in the middle of February, a cold winter in Colorado.

Jim Klein was visiting with fellow college students and Forestry majors Kim Steiner and Chuck Logan. The group planned to visit Rocky Mountain National Park and climb Long’s Peak, the tallest mountain in the park at 14,259 feet tall, that coming weekend.

Jim, a farm kid with no experience climbing mountains, asked if he could join the group on their excursion. They agreed, but requested that Jim remain at basecamp at Chasm Lake with Kim’s future wife, Susie, who would also be coming along. Jim gathered up his Boy Scout backpack, Long Johns, and mummy sleeping bag for the trip ahead.

Jim: What I didn’t realize until later is, at that age in a young person’s life, you just do crazy stuff and don’t think about it. Later you can see maybe it wasn’t the best idea.

How did the trip start out?
Jim: We arrived at the parking lot on Friday afternoon. A heavy snow had fallen across the park so we had to break out the snowshoes. I remember the first day was fairly uneventful. We hiked in towards Chasm Lake, trudging through the snow and enjoying the views that only RMNP can provide. When we made camp that night, we slept in the snow on climbing ropes. It was intensely cold; my Long Johns couldn’t cut through the chill and I spent all night shivering.

The next day, we set out for Chasm Lake. After trudging (again) through the snow for hours, we made it to an old fieldstone hut near the lake. We hiked up and over the moraine and stowed our gear at the foot of the couloir (a steep, narrow gully on a mountainside) that leads up to Broadway Ledge. Chuck and Kim headed up Broadway while the rest of us stayed down the hill. We were too late in the day to even think of attempting a summit, but the views again could not be beat. Chasm Lake is intensely beautiful any time of year, but in the winter it was like a dream.

When Chuck and Kim returned from their trek up Broadway, they reported it was coated in ice. There would be no safe way to summit Long’s Peak that weekend. We made camp and spent the night in the stone hut, shivering instead of sleeping. It was marginally better than sleeping outside.

Sunday morning, we made breakfast and broke camp. When the sun rose, we were met with a surreal, dreamlike scene. The sunrise stretched soft rays of light over a blanket of cotton clouds as far to the east as we could see. A snowstorm below us formed a sea of incredible colors, a few mountain peaks here and there reaching above the waves. It was indescribably peaceful; clear blue skies above and around us, but we wondered what to expect below the clouds.

The clouds continued to roll and gather by mid morning when our group made the decision to descend the mountain and head back to the car.

Did the storm catch up to you?
Jim: As it so often happens when hiking in the mountains, the storm quickly overtook us. The surreality of our situation strengthened as the snow intensified around us the farther down the mountain we trudged. I was at the rear of the group when I realized I had lost my friends in the swirling whiteout surrounding me. Their tracks quickly disappeared in seconds, I couldn’t see them ahead of me. Which way did they go?

I was disoriented and suddenly very aware of how alone and cold I now was.

 

What did you do?
Jim: This was now a terrifying moment in time. People die in the mountains: they get lost, cold, and delirious with hyperthermia. This could be extremely bad if I didn’t keep my head.

Fighting panic at the idea I was lost in a blizzard in the Rocky Mountains, I took stock of my situation. I needed to go down the mountain, that much was clear in the blinding snow. I should just keep going the direction I was going. If I could find the road, I would be fine.

I forced my legs to move through the snow. Step by step, I did my best to keep a consistent forward momentum despite the whiteout. It felt like hours, and it really might have been. I began to notice the snowstorm around me had thinned. I could suddenly make out the shapes of trees and-
Powerlines!

Powerlines towered above me, disappearing further down the mountain. Powerlines meant the parking lot. If I followed the powerlines, I would find the car and my friends.

Feeling joyful at the prospect of not freezing to death on the mountain, I was renewed. I clung to the powerlines like they were a life preserver. The storm waned even more. I felt less cold, it was easier to breathe. The powerlines overhead kept me on my path and eventually it brought me to the parking lot. Words can’t describe the sheer amount of joy and relief I felt when I saw that stretch of pavement.

After meeting up with my friends and rehashing my brief and unintentional stint solo backpacking, we piled into the car and drove away.

 

White Out will be performed on April 7th at UNC and this Fall at the Toronto Steinway Hall by Royal Canadian Conservatory’s clarinetist Peter Stoll and international pianist Adam Zukiewicz.

 

“Above the Clouds” Movements
I-Chasm Lake: Basecamp, cold, charming
II-Above the Clouds: Before our descent Sunday morning, the scene was surreal. A snowstorm below formed a sea of clouds of incredible colors with a few mountain peaks poking through. It felt incredibly peaceful with clear blue skies above the clouds, but wondering what to expect of the storm below the clouds.
III-Whiteout: The snow intensified the further we descended. I lost sight of the group ahead at the end of the downward trek and became disoriented. I continued snowshoeing downward and came upon some power line poles which I followed to the parking lot.
IV-Parking Lot: I felt joyful arriving at the parking lot and seeing the group.

Listen to a sample of “Above the Clouds”!

photos taken by Chuck Logan