Snowflake Monday

Yet another member of my family hits the half-century mark today. Happy birthday, Bro!

You inspired a couple of new greeting cards! Funny such inspiration didn’t happen when I reached that milestone!


Humor aside, this is not today’s snowflake. Instead, I have a special snowflake with a very fun variation and a completely different name next week. I named the snowflake after a favorite peak long before I finished writing and testing the pattern for the variation. Although there is a feminine name associated with Uncompahgre, the variation deserves a royal name all its own. Hope I’ve piqued your curiosity!


When I first designed this snowflake, I was very excited by how beautiful it looked when connecting multiple snowflakes in one project, and I absolutely love the lacy scarf I worked up with beaded fringe and in many different colors.












Uncompahgre Peak, at 14,309 feet, is the sixth highest mountain in Colorado. The name is a Ute Indian word describing water, translated as “Dirty Water” or “Rocks that make Water Red.” A fritillary butterfly discovered on the mountain in 1978 was given the name of the mountain, and the species is considered endangered.

Uncompahgre Peak is the skyline’s dominating landmark above the basin where The Lizard proposed to me in 2005. Seven months fresh off emergency back surgery and knowing I would be Miz Liz within the next couple of weeks, I climbed to a saddle between Heisshorn and El Punto to take in what The Lizard claimed is the best view in all of Colorado. To this day, it remains my favorite hiking destination in Colorado.


I didn't have a wide enough angle lens in 2005 to capture the entire view in one shot, Uncompahgre to the left and Matterhorn and Wetterhorn to the right.

You may do whatever you'd like with snowflakes you make from this pattern, but you may not sell or republish the pattern. Thanks, and enjoy!


Finished Size: 5 inches from point to point
Materials: Size 10 crochet thread, size 8 crochet hook, empty pizza box, wax paper or plastic wrap, cellophane tape, water soluble school glue or desired stiffening agent, water, glitter, small container for glue/water mixture, paintbrush, stick pins that won't be used later for sewing, clear thread or fishing line


Uncompahgre Peak Snowflake Instructions

Make magic ring.

Round 1: Ch 2 (does not count as dc), 18 dc in ring; sl st across starting ch 2 and into starting dc. Do not pull magic ring too tight.

Round 2: Ch 2 (counts as 1 dc), 1 dc in same dc, *sk 2 dc, 2 dc in next dc, ch 3, 2 dc in same dc; repeat from * around 4 times; 2 dc in same dc as starting dc, [ch 1, 1 dc in 2nd ch of staring ch 2] ([ ] counts as final ch 3 sp).
If you're not reading this pattern on Snowcatcher, you're not reading the designer's blog. Please go here to see the original.

Round 3: 1 sc over post of final dc of Round 2, *ch 8, 1 sc in next ch 3 sp; repeat from * around 4 times; ch 8, sl st in starting sc.

Round 4: *1 sc in next 8 ch sp, ch 3, 1 sc in same sp, ch 5, 1 sc in same sp, ch 7, 1 sc in same sp, ch 5, 1 sc in same sp, ch 3, 1 sc in same sp; repeat from * around 5 times. Do not sl st into starting st.

Round 5: *1 sc in next ch 3 sp, ch 3, 1 sc in next ch 5 sp, ch 5, 1 sc in next ch 7 sp, ch 7, 1 sc in same sp, ch 5, 1 sc in next ch 5 sp, ch 3, 1 sc in next ch 3 sp; repeat from * around 5 times. Do not sl st into starting st.

Round 6: *2 sc in next ch 3 sp, ch 3, 1 sc in same sp, 2 sc in next ch 5 sp, ch 3, 2 sc in same sp, 1 sc in next ch 7 sp, 1 hdc in same sp, 2 dc in same sp, 1 tr in same sp, ch 2, sl st into top of tr, 1 tr in same sp, 2 dc in same sp, 1 hdc in same sp, 1 sc in same sp, 2 sc in next ch 5 sp, ch 3, 2 sc in same sp, 1 sc in next ch 3 sp, ch 3, 2 sc in same sp; repeat from * around 5 times, bind off and weave in ends.

Finish: Tape wax paper or plastic wrap to top of empty pizza box. Pin snowflake to box on top of wax paper or plastic wrap.

Mix a few drops of water with a teaspoon of water soluble glue in small washable container. Paint snowflake with glue mixture or desired stiffener. Sprinkle lightly with glitter. Wash paintbrush and container thoroughly. Allow snowflake to dry at least 24 hours. Remove pins. Gently peel snowflake from wax paper or plastic wrap. Attach 10-inch clear thread to one spoke, weaving in end. Wrap fishing line around tree branch (or tape to ceiling or any overhead surface) and watch the snowflake twirl freely whenever you walk by! Snowflake also may be taped to window or tied to doorknob or cabinet handle.

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Uncompahgre Peak

24 September 2005

We left for the Nelly Creek trailhead 35 minutes late. We made it on one tank of gas. We stopped at a service station near Buena Vista so The Lizard could get a cup of caffeine. I wasn’t going to get anything, but I noticed they had cinnamon tea. I got a cup.

Later in the day, I realized Uncompahgre is, in a way, the conduit for bringing our souls together. It was after my 2003 Uncompahgre trip report that The Lizard became friendly, like a friend, as if we had known each other for years. My solo hikes had caught his attention, and my trip reports with more than just the standard route description and “a fine day was had by all” piqued his interest. But it was my hike up Uncompahgre that got his blood boiling. His description of Cinnamon Pass that followed got my thoughts spinning around him for months to come. He took me up Cinnamon Pass in 2004, and I bought Cinnabon for the occasion, just as we’d discussed the year before. And here I was, sipping cinnamon tea! What a perfect way to complete the full circle!

We arrived about an hour before sunrise. The trailhead bathroom was locked. Too late in the season for forest service maintenance, I suppose. I started up the trail alone while The Lizard got ready because he can always catch me.

I slipped on a wet rock and fell in the river in the first few minutes. No serious damage. But my leg and my arm were wet. Fortunately, it wasn’t that cold.

Soon The Lizard caught me, and the sky began turning colors. He wanted to see how quickly he could get up Uncompahgre, which I now was quite amazed I had mistaken two years ago. How could I ever have mistaken the other mountain for the 14er??? I told The Lizard to go forward with his plan, so we kissed, and he took off. I reached the junction, which I assumed was the same one I’d gotten wrong back in 2003, and I took the left, trying to hurry as much as I could because I had lost my view Uncompahgre. I could see clouds, but not the mountain. Suddenly I spotted a herd of about 12 deer; two of them bucks.

I stopped for just a split second because they were staring at me. I could skip the sunrise, chill out and wait for the deer not to be so alarmed, or I could plow forward and try not to miss the sunrise, which was beginning to look alarmingly too near, and me nowhere near where I needed to be. The deer were still staring at me. I was in a beautiful meadow surrounded on three sides with a headwall I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get up. It would block the view of the mountain. I could race back down to the junction and try to work my way up again as fast as I could, but I estimated less than 60 seconds until pink mountain. I was going to miss it.

I went forward as fast as I could go. The deer bolted up the side of the waterfall, showing me what I assumed would be the only way out of the bowl. I wouldn’t get pictures of the deer at all, but by golly, I was going to try to get that pink mountain.

The speckled clouds glowed pink. If I went into the middle of the meadow instead of trying to race up the near vertical path the deer had escaped, I thought might be able to get the clouds over the shoulder of Uncompahgre and perhaps even see the tip of the mountain turn pink. So I left the trail and went up into the meadow.

I got ONE shot of the clouds. I backed up even further so I could maximize my view of the mountain, and suddenly it turned bright pink. Not the top. Not spilling down the north face. But wholly pink. The entire peak. The clouds on the opposite side of the valley must have blocked the sun and then allowed it to peak through for a couple of seconds. Three shots, and Uncompahgre was in shadows again. I worked my way back across the meadow and stared at the slope where the deer had escaped. I wasn’t sure I could make it up that. I might be better off going back down and getting back on the trail. The “trail” I’d taken wasn’t a trail at all. It just led to the waterfall. Pretty, but totally in shadows.

Suddenly I saw The Lizard up at the top of the slope. He'd waited for me! So I began making my way up. Slowly up. It was steep. A few minutes later, we were exchanging experiences. He’d seen the whole mountain light up, but was more interested in the deer. He wondered why I’d gone the way I did.

I should have gone the other way. I guess if I don’t pull a Silverheels at least once a year, something’s wrong. Actually, I pulled this same move on Uncompahgre before I did it on Silverheels, so I should call it My Uncompahgre BooBoo instead of My Silverheels BooBoo. Or perhaps My Point 12,788 BooBoo? Naaaa. Silverheels has more of a ring to it. Looking at Uncompahgre and my infamous unnamed point now, I realized I had done something pretty spectacular that day, even though I had taken the wrong trail. That was a Herculean task for me! I really did climb two separate peaks in one day! No wonder I was so tired near the top of Uncom!

While The Lizard and I talked, the sun hit Uncompahgre again for less than 30 seconds. This time, I could see the entire mountain, and it was gold instead of pink. So impressive! I wish I could have been closer for the alpen glow, but I’m not disappointed with what I got.

The Lizard took off again to try to make the summit in record time. I plodded along, setting a goal of first one ridge, then another. I kept telling myself I could make it to the next ridge, and I would. Finally I was below the ridge where I’d spotted The Lizard about half an hour earlier, silhouetted against the skyline, and it looked somewhat steep. Still an easy mountain, but with the wind the way it was pounding and my back already sore from my pack, I wasn’t sure I could make the next ridge.

I wanted to. If I got up that high, I would be able to see the view I’d missed two years ago because the summit was socked in by the time I reached it. Today was pretty darned cloudy, but the clouds were moving fast in gale-force winds. I started up the ridge. Soon I was stopping every ten steps or so because it was so difficult for me. The slope wasn’t all that difficult, but the wind was sucking the air right out of me. I was afraid to go near the edge of the ridge once I reached it for fear of being blown off or having my camera ripped right from my hands as I tried to snap photos. So I skirted the ridge on the trail and hoped eventually I’d be sheltered somewhat from the overwhelming force of the wind.

Finally I reached a high point where I could see Pilot Knob, Goldenhorn, Vermillion, the Wilsons and El Diente, Wildhorse, Potosi, Cirque, Teakettle, Sneffels, Wetterhorn, Matterhorn, Coxcomb, Precipice and Dunsanine. !!! Holy cow! I thought I’d see Wetterhorn and Matterhorn! Man, does Uncompahgre ever have a magnificent view! Off in the other direction I could see Red Cloud and Handies, too. Plus another little unnamed point that looked to me like a mini Matterhorn from that angle. My Mistaken Identity Peak looks pretty dramatic from that view, too! Great photo op!

I shot and shot and shot, and then suddenly The Lizard was with me. He’d made the summit in an hour and 15 minutes. We headed down together, then the sun peaked out, lighting up Uncompahgre for the third time of the day.

I snapped a few more photos, then took the Lizard's pack while he took my camera and raced back up to capture the view in full sunlight. The window closed before he could get to the top. I hoped he would wait for the sun to make a return appearance. It was just too darned good a view to let perfect light pass by when we were that close.

I was supposed to wait for the Lizard while he shot, but I thought I could carry his pack for a while, just not on my back. I carried it in front of me for a while, then had to sit down and rest my back for a while. I carried the a little bit more and had to sit down to rest my back again. So I tried carrying it on my shoulder for a while, and I still had to sit down to rest my back again. I carried it in front again and didn’t make it very far before I had to sit down once again. I waited about half an hour for The Lizard to return and take the load from me. Half an hour later, he snatched my pack too because I was limping so gingerly.

The drive out was spectacular. The aspens are peaking. The sky was white, though, so I didn’t take very many pictures. Nevertheless, I always enjoy viewing the gold, even if I can't take physical visions of it home with me.

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Escape from Single-Track

3 July 2005

We pondered destinations. The Lizard had planned to take me to Oh Be Joyful before Ferenc and Andrea decided to join us for San Luis. Now The Lizard was eyeing that locale again.

I thought it might be a good place, too, but because the range had received so much winter and spring snow, I didn’t think the wildflowers would be ready yet. I also suggested going back to the La Garita Wilderness, maybe to a different trailhead, to look for moose again. Just saunter around the ponds at a relaxing pace. My biggest and most favorite hankering, however, was for the Cimarron forks. I had fallen in love with the area the first time The Lizard took me there, back when the aspens were golden.

The Lizard seemed disappointed to not be going to Oh Be Joyful, but he seemed excited about the Middle Fork. He kept asking if I was sure that’s where I wanted to go.

We hiked about a mile or so up the trail before The Lizard realized he had forgotten to pack his rain pants. Turned out he didn’t need them, but if he hadn’t gone back for them, we surely would have been caught in a drenching downpour.

Before he headed back, he dropped to his knees in a beautiful green meadow and asked me to marry him. I didn’t think he would ever ask! I kissed him. He stashed his pack, kissed me again, and headed back to the car while I plowed on ahead, thinking about nothing but what it would be like to be able to share a bed with him instead of separate bedrooms, and then, suddenly, realizing my Lizard is from an age when guys like to try out girls before they make a commitment... What if he doesn’t like me???

Mosquitoes soon robbed me of all my wandering thoughts, and then the trail became progressively more challenging. I hit a stream crossing The Lizard had warned me about. It also served as junction for another trail. The Lizard hadn’t specified which trail I should take, even though I knew which one I was supposed to follow. So I crossed the stream and started looking for scrap wood to leave him a message to let him know I'd gone the right way.

In mid-thought, I realized I had not given him an answer. I couldn't believe it! Here was the moment I had waited for, and I had not verbally agreed to be his bride!

I decided not to leave a silly message telling him I’d made the right choice. Well, not a trail choice, anyway.

Instead I left a big wood “YES!!!” right in the middle of the trail, complete with arrows and a cryptic “Did U C it?” at the end so he would be sure to look for it if he wasn’t looking at the ground when he crossed my answer. Then I took pictures of my stick masterpiece.

I passed two sets of hikers in the next couple of miles and asked them please not to step on my message. Then I hit THE valley, and I absolutely had my breath sucked out of me. It was gorgeous!!! The view was better than I could possibly imagine. I dropped to the stream to shoot a bright pink flower with Coxcomb in the background, and when I stood, The Lizard was right behind me. He dropped his pack and dropped to his knee again and apologized for not being very romantic the first time around. He proposed again, and this time, I sang a resounding "Yes!" that seemed to echo off the majestic tall peaks.

I asked if he’d seen my message and if it had warmed the cockles of his heart, and he smiled. He said he’d wanted to ask me at Oh Be Joyful, but I’d ruined that.

The Lizard took off for Red Cliff, and I followed for a while, until I couldn’t handle the terrain anymore. I shot some pictures of Coxcomb and made my way back to the trail that would take me up to the Heisshorn/El Punto saddle. It was a long way up, but I made it, and I was rewarded with what a hiker after me said may well be the finest view in all of Colorado. I may have to agree.

Uncompahgre, Matterhorn and Wetterhorn all but reached out to touch me. I wish there had been more wildflowers, but what I got was outstanding.

This place is as good as any to morph from single-track to... a bride-to-be!!! This is a spectacular setting, and I’m the happiest girl in the world!

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Uncompahgre Peak

13 September 2003

It’s 3:28 a.m. I just returned from Lake City. My face and neck have been hurting for about the last two hours. I just looked at my face in the mirror. I look like I spent the day skiing. Snowburn!

I left Denver at almost 8 p.m. Friday night. A couple hours later than I wanted, but listening to Erik Weihenmayer’s “Touch the Top of the World” while I drove kept me very awake. WOW! What an inspiring story! The book opens with one of his training climbs of Longs Peak, my first 14er. I was immediately drawn into this book.

I had to turn off the CD when I hit the bumpy dirt road leading to the Nellie Creek Trailhead, though, and within ten minutes, I could no longer keep my eyes open. I found a wide parking area alongside the road and car camped at 2 a.m. I woke at 6 a.m. and headed down the road again in search of the trailhead, only to be sidetracked by the magnificent orange reflection of the rising sun on the freshly powdered peaks surrounding my car.

Once I reached the trailhead, I was thrilled to find not only would I not be alone on this trail, but there was a real bathroom, too! There were two empty trucks at the trailhead, a truck of three boys getting ready to head out and a couple with two dogs already making their way up the creek.

Because I changed my plans so many times, I didn’t have the proper map for this particular trail, and I didn’t want to tear the page out of my guidebook. So I read the trail description three times in an attempt to memorize it, then mixed some homemade trail mix of dried berries and pistachios, loaded my camera, stuck a couple extra rolls of film in my Camelbak and headed off.

Big mistake: Always keep the map package in the car. It does me no good sitting on my desk at home.

I found the couple and their two dogs waiting for me at the trail junction where we should have turned sharp left. They also had not brought their map and were confused and thought I might be able to help. I was unfamiliar with the area, tired and equally confused about which peak was which. The guidebook describes this particular hike as a long walk. We turned it into a VERY long walk, summiting an apparently unnamed 13,088-foot peak (give or take a foot or two) before tackling Uncompahgre.

As we began the actual ascent of Uncompahgre, the wind picked up, clouds were beginning to speed across the mountain like time-lapse photography. I kept forgetting to hydrate because I wasn’t hot.

On the ridge, I hoped to get my first glimpse ever of Wetterhorn and Matterhorn. Only one of the pointy peaks revealed itself, though; the other was buried in clouds. The entire northern panorama was white.

The wind was making the trip arduous. I think we (all of the day’s hikers) spent more time off the frequently hidden trail than on it. I kept seeing cairns far off from the up to knee-deep footprints everyone followed. One very steep section through the cliffs seemed to be Class 3 to me, with ice, snow, slippery mud and wind contributing to the difficulty.

This was my first summit of any mountain not close to the Denver area, so the solitude was almost overwhelming.

I began to head down after about ten minutes because the weather was unsettling. Going down was a different challenge than going up because most of the snow had turned to slush. For me, the absence of view may have been a real blessing because I never worried about how steep the trail became.

Breaking trail in soft snow is much more fun than following crunchy snow footprints/postholes. The glissade down the switchbacks was truly a blast, but began accidentally. Further down the mountain, I bushwhacked instead of following the trail because punching into thigh-deep drifts one leg at a time was a thrilling sensation.

I finally got my catnap at about midnight atop Kenosha Pass. I’d finished my book on CD, and the view-obstructing fog was making me sleepier than I’d been all day. All the aspens in my headlights when I pulled over were weighted down with two or three inches of fresh snow. Thankfully, the roads were dry.

Now I have to finish a charity quilt, put together a wedding album and design a fund-raising PowerPoint presentation for the Alliance of Professional Women. I should be busy for at least a couple of days...

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Uncompahgre Peak

5 September 2009

Neither of us planned to climb a fourteener. The weather wasn’t supposed to be accommodating. It was to be a picture-taking weekend.

My goal was to capture sunrise on the sixth tallest peak in Colorado. I’d climbed it six years ago, but a cloud formed around the top before I reached the peak, and I got zero views from what is supposed to be a pretty magnificent summit. I’ve been back for sunrise a couple of times, but my timing has never been right for the perfect sunrise.

Secretly, I hoped I might also get a moonset, but I didn’t know where in the sky the moon would be in relation to the peak, and I assumed Murphy’s Law would dictate a lunar hide and seek before I gained the ridge and could see the outline of the dramatic mountain.

We arrived at the trailhead at 1 a.m. Our phones, of course, had no signal, and I couldn’t find the little battery-powered satellite alarm clock I took on the Trek. So we had to wing it on what time we’d need to wake.

We woke at 4:50 and hit the trail ten minutes later, worried we might miss both the moonset and the sunrise. After pulling out of the trees and seeing the silhouette of the mountain against the royal blue sky, I set my camera on a tripod substitute (a big rock) and fired away.

Clouds prevented first sun hit on the tip of the peak minutes later, but before long, the entire east face of Uncompahgre turned fiery auburn.

I gave my cinnamon-colored bear to The Lizard and told him to motor on up to get pictures of Wetterhorn while the morning light was still good. The Lizard took off, quickly passing everyone on the trail ahead of us. I, meantime, snapped about 200 pictures on the way up to the second Wetterhorn viewpoint.

By then, clouds still looked as if they might accommodate a summit bid by a slow mover. I could see The Lizard near the summit, so I decided to go for it too, hoping he would feel good enough to go up a second time when we met up.

He met me on the switchbacks, accompanied me to the summit, keeping my incredibly slow pace and safekeeping my camera on the precarious cliff bands, which have eroded since I climbed it in 2003.
About 200 feet from the summit, I experienced a burst of energy and confidence, no doubt fueled by the joy of reaching the top, and I sprinted up the “final two flights."

I downed a recovery bar, posed the bears (The Lizard has now taken to calling me Goldilocks...), and then we quickly made our way back down the mountain, nearly reaching treeline before the first lightning bolt hit. For perhaps the first time ever, no descending climbers passed me on my way down. I nearly kept The Lizard’s downhill pace.

After a short nap in the car, we headed to Gunnison, where there was no room at the inn. We missed the last room by less than 30 seconds. Our favorite restaurant was closed, as has been the case most of our San Juan trips the last two years.

So we set up camp along Mill Creek, serenaded by the babbling stream. Cold Qdoba we brought along just in case tasted great in spite of the temperature. The hot tub in the hotel would have been nice, but no commercial lodging can match the magic and beauty of God’s masterpiece!

The moonset was a bonus. Reaching the top of the mountain was a bonus. The view from the top was a huge bonus. And being in the middle of paradise with my best friend is the best bonus of all.

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Wordless Wednesday

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