Deadly Maroon Bells

Maroon Bells almost the "Death Bells"

Jim McClain, Dave Thompson, my brother Dirk Anderson, and my 19 year old self Seth Anderson climbed the Maroon Bells near Aspen, Colorado the first time on August 27, 1994, a major record snow year. North Maroon would be my 27th fourteener, 27 was the number on my amateur league soccer jersey, for some reason I decided that 27 was my lucky number, and all would be swell on this trip.

On the drive home I nearly succomed to my fears of death and dying that day. While entering the curves or DeBeque Canyon, I fell quietly asleep at the wheel! Dirk awoke in the passenger seat. He ferociously grabbed the Toyota's wheel and saved us from flipping over the barriers into an uncertain future...
Luckily we survived the road and the "Death Bells." I am thankful we made it through the gauntlet of the fates. Oddly I was probably most in danger flying down the highway with my eyelids drooping.

“For whom the Bells toll?” For they that pull the Cord! Fear not. These are great peaks that deserve to be climbed as much as they demand respect.

, We headed out shortly after four a.m. and fumbled our way up the muddy, dew-laden trail interspersed with slick mossy boulders to the snow-covered apron beneath the Bell Cord Couloir. When we approached the classic narrow slot, a TV sized boulder rolled and pounded down the snow filled chasm and prompted us to put on our helmets. We gradually ascended the mellow runnels and the roll over “cruxes” mid height in the winding chute. The Bell Cord appears straight and narrow from the valley below, but it zigzags through corners in the stepped red face that it splits.

A helicopter hovered curiously around the North East face of the peaks. The loud machine continued several failed attempts to circle and hover but relented as we gained the saddle. We enjoyed the new quiet time on the dry rock. We quickly hopped and stepped up the gentle ledges to the South Summit. When we signed in to the summit register, we read the entry of four friends that had lost their friend named Roger from Alaska. He had slipped off the north side of the ridge from North Maroon traverse, where we were now heading. Rodger was a competent climber but just lost himself in the mountains and fell off.
The helicopter again buzzed overhead as we crossed the saddle and climbed to the first rock step on the ridge. As Dirk lead out to the top, Jim, Dave and I notice a clicking sound, I thought we were surrounded by lightning bugs. One of us noticed a little heat and hissing from our upright ice axe’s and crampon points. We looked to Dirk above and called out. Dirk poked his head over the ledge and said, “hey guys, I think there’s some lightning up here”…his hair waved like mermaid locks in an amusement park water tank!
Our helmets began to wiggle and try to shake and spin around our heads. We took off our packs, put our synthetic garments in our pockets and the static subsided.

We were already committed and from this point on. The conditions lessened in severity as we climbed the ridge top to meet Dirk. Dirk said the rope was doing the Egyptian snake dance from the static. We ducked our heads and dropped our packs while little shocks hit our gear. We crossed the plank ledges and ascended a small chimney quickly before crossing the cairn marking where Rodger had slipped. I thought of how beautiful but dangerous the mountains can be as I passed the large pile of rocks. One more wave of electricity hit just as Dirk and I neared the summit of North Maroon Peak. We both threw our packs and axes to the ground and ran to the summit to huddled for a few minutes while waiting for the humming to stop on our metal ice tool points!

Luckily the route down was uneventful and even entertaining by scrambling down steps and stemming easy gullies down the north ridge. We crossed the grueling boulders back into Buckskin Gulch and wobbled to the parking lot to a waning sunlight..On the drive home I nearly succomed to my fears of death and dying that day. While entering the curves or DeBeque Canyon, I fell quietly asleep at the wheel! Dirk awoke in the passenger seat. He ferociously grabbed the Toyota's wheel and saved us from flipping over the barriers into an uncertain future...
Luckily we survived the road and the "Death Bells." I am thankful we made it through the gauntlet of the fates. Oddly I was probably most in danger flying down the highway with my eyelids drooping.

“For whom the Bells toll?” For they that pull the Cord! Fear not. These are great peaks that deserve to be climbed as much as they demand respect.

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