13663 – Wild Wanderer

Coxcomb – 13,663 and Redcliff – 13,648

RT Length: 13.24 miles

Elevation Gain: 4654’

Climbing Gear included 2 60 meter 7.9mm ropes.

I’ve been up in my head about this peak since my failed attempt last month. Last time I’d turned around because I wasn’t 100% sure I was in the right area and I was afraid of cliffing out. All of the information I had on Coxcomb was conflicting (some called areas class 3 and others class 5, etc.) and none of the pictures I had from others lined up with what I was seeing. After going back home and researching more I realized I had been in the correct area, and now I was ready to try again.

I drove to the Wetterhorn Trailhead and was surprised to see no one else parked in the lot. The last time I was here there were several other vehicles. I got out, walked around, and signed the trail register so I wouldn’t need to in the morning. It was cloudy and windy but on the plus side there were no mosquitoes.

I tried to pump myself up for the hike tomorrow, but was still having trouble mentally. I told myself to just enjoy the hike and focus on learning something, even if I didn’t summit (again). I got out the book I’m (still) reading: Death in Yosemite, and noted I was still on the ‘death while climbing’ chapter. It may sound macabre, but reading about how other, more experienced climbers have died while climbing puts climbing into perspective for me: gravity never sleeps, and I can never be too careful (which is another reason why I turned around last time). I like to review potential mistakes so I don’t make them.

A group of three (shirtless) guys in their early 20s walked by, carrying gear and pads. I stopped them to see where they were headed and they told me they were just out bouldering. Hmmmm… I didn’t think the area was good for bouldering, but I wished them luck.

I made sure to get to bed early, and wouldn’t you know it, I heard a mouse moving around under/inside my truck as I was trying to sleep. I guess those mothballs don’t work. Also, I believe it was the same mouse as last week: it’s most likely been living in my truck, building a nest, etc. I was going to need to get some traps asap.

I woke up and was on the trail at 4:30am, taking the same route as last time. There’s an obvious trailhead with a register.

I followed the class 1 trail for 3.4 miles up to the top of the pass, and then lost 450’ of elevation as I descended into the basin.

I’ve heard of others who’ve stayed high here instead of going into the basin, and from my perspective, the rubble and talus and scree aren’t worth it: I’m ok losing a little elevation, and I’m actually convinced it saves time. Once in the basin I left the trail, crossed the basin and followed the ridge up to the base of Coxcomb

There was a little bit of scrambling to get to the base

Here’s an overall view of the route up

Once there I was happy to see the rocks I’d placed in the chimney were still where I’d put them. I sat down, put on my helmet, and mentally prepared myself to begin. Here’s the first chimney

I made my way over to the chimney and tried to climb up. No dice. I love to boulder, but I haven’t been since COVID started due to the gym being closed and now requiring masks (say what you will, but I cannot work out with a mask on. I respect the rules however, and thus choose not to go). All this to say I’m a little rusty when it comes to my bouldering skills.

Ok, so if I couldn’t just climb up I’d do what I did last time: I took off my pack, attached a rope to the pack and my harness, and tried climbing up without a pack. The rock was cold and my fingers were stiff and I tried and tried but was unable to climb up the chimney. What was wrong? I’d been able to do it last time! Ugh. That was when I realized last time I’d worn climbing shoes. I guess they did make a difference. Oh well, I was just going to need to get creative. I tried once again, this time angling myself sideways, putting my thigh into a crack, shimmying around, and pressing into the side of the rock with my inner thigh and hoisting myself up. This took me halfway up the chimney. From there I was able to hoist myself up and use my arms to do the rest. I made it to the top of the chimney, hauled up my gear, and prepared for the second part for the climb. The red circle is where I ‘sat’

The next section was easy class 3. I re-coiled my rope, put on my pack, and made my way to the base of the next chimney

This is where I’d gotten stuck last time. This time however, I was sure I was in the correct spot. I initially tried to climb this with my pack on, realized that wasn’t going to happen (the pack was too heavy and put me off balance) and decided to try climbing this chimney without my pack. The red circle is where I took off my pack.

Here’s what the climb looks like from there. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to climb this with my gear, but also knowing I needed my gear to descend I decided to once again tie the rope to my harness and loop it around my pack. I was very careful to make sure my rope didn’t get tangled, and I had an exit strategy in case the whole ‘rope around the pack thing’ didn’t work in this area. I wouldn’t recommend this tactic unless you put a lot of thought and planning into its execution, as so many things can go wrong in this scenario. Here’s a look at the beginning of the route

I made it halfway up and stopped.

At the halfway point I hauled up my gear to where I was positioned. I figured this would lessen the chances of my pack getting stuck when I hauled it all the way up, and also gave me a chance to test whether or not hauling the pack would work in an area where I still felt I could downclimb safely. This tactic proved successful, so I continued on.

From the halfway point, here’s looking up at the rest of the route

This is a class 5.2 chimney that requires some stemming/fun/creative moves to ascend. At one point I even used a crack climbing technique to get a good hold with my arm vertically and hoist myself up. This is the point I wasn’t able to make it past last time, but after talking with others who’d successfully climbed this area I felt confident I’d be able to as well. There are some sketchy moves, but plenty of opportunities for stemming/hand holds to make the ascent doable. I was terrified but just told myself not to look down, to focus ahead, and soon enough I’d made it out of the chimney. Here’s the route I took

Once at the top of the chimney I turned and hauled up my gear, feeling pretty pleased with myself for making it this far. I recoiled my rope and put it in my pack.

I’ve heard it’s class 3 after this point to exit the chimney, but it felt class 2 to me

Last time I’d been worried I was in the wrong gully. Since I hike solo I’m extra careful, and probably turn back more often than I should when uncomfortable. One of the reasons I’d turned back here last time was I was worried if I ascended the wrong gully I’d be cliffed out. It turns out that wouldn’t have been the case, so if you’re worried about cliffing out in this area don’t be: all chimneys exit in the same area, and it’s solid. Here’s looking back

And forward towards the summit of Coxcomb

There was still one more obstacle before reaching the summit: a 25 foot notch I’d need to rappel before upclimbing to the summit.

I got out my rope, attached it to my gear and the anchor (which looked solid so I didn’t replace the webbing) and rappelled down into the notch. This is committing because it’s class 5.6 to climb back up. I’m not a climber, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to upclimb this section on my own: forward was the only way from here on out. This last bit included rappelling down, then climbing out of the notch

Here’s a look back up at this section from inside the notch

I once again retrieved and recoiled my rope, and got ready for the final pitch to the summit. I went north, following the cairns, and climbed up an easy chimney

From there it was an easy walk to the summit

I summited Coxcomb Peak at 9:30am. There was a summit register in a powerade bottle that should probably be replaced. I didn’t open it, but it looked like the papers were smushed in there.

Coxcomb:

I was thrilled I’d made it this far, but I still had the 170’ rappel to accomplish. I went to work, looking for the webbing and anchor set up. It was easy to find and still looked good, so I decided to use what was already there.

I tied my two ropes together with a double fisherman’s knot and threw my ropes. It was quite windy, and the wind was coming at me, so it took a couple of tries to make sure the ropes made it all the way to the ground. This was quite frustrating, but worth the extra effort to make sure it was done correctly. Next, I tested the rope, watched my knot to make sure it was secure, unclipped my safety, and started the rappel. Everything went smoothly. I even noticed 2 more anchors set up below where I’d rappelled, so if you brought just one rope it would have been enough (the webbing looked old though, and should probably be replaced).

My feet touched the ground and I gave out a “Woot!” I was so excited! I’d done it!!! I’d solo’d Coxcomb Peak, a peak I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to climb, let alone solo. I gave myself a minute to let it sink in, and then went about retrieving my ropes.

I had two ropes, one purple, one orange. I always pull the darker one. I pulled the purple one and was thrilled when it moved. I pulled it about 10 feet when it stopped. Hmmm. Ok, maybe it got stuck? So I pulled the orange rope back a few feet, and then tried the purple one again. Once again, it got stuck. I whipped the ropes and they moved as far as I could see, so one of the ropes must have been stuck up at the very top. I spent the next hour doing everything I could think of to retrieve those ropes, to no avail. In the end I made the very difficult decision to leave them there. I did put a note in the trail register on the way down and I posted to some climbing social media sites about their whereabouts, so at this point I’m fairly confident they’ve been retrieved. It hurt to leave them there, not only because of LNT, but also because this is the first time I’ve used them (besides the initial breaking in).

Here’s the rappel

I sighed heavily and turned to hike up Redcliff.

This was a very short, simple, and straightforward climb. I summited Redcliff at 11:15am

Redcliff:

Here’s looking back at Coxcomb. I’ve circled the notch that needs to be rappelled down and then climbed back up

I turned and headed back to the Coxcomb/Redcliff saddle, and then descended west into the basin

There wasn’t a well stablished trail here, but the route was easy enough to figure out. I just aimed for the visible class 1 trail below I’d taken on my way in this morning

Here’s looking back at the route from the saddle to the trail

And a look at the hike out

I made it back to the now full trailhead and my truck at 1:10pm, making this a 13.24 mile hike with 4654’ of elevation gain in 8 hours, 40 minutes.

I was thrilled with today’s success, and even though I’d lost two new climbing ropes I drove to the next trailhead on a bit of a high.

Carbonate Mountain A – 13,663, Cyclone Mountain A – 13,616, & Grizzly Mountain – 13,708

RT Length: 8.75 miles

Elevation Gain: 4090’

I made it to the 1 vehicle trailhead early the day before after hiking another peak in the area. I had a lot of time to kill before heading to bed for the night and enjoyed every minute. The Cyclone Creek Trailhead is located at 10750’, where the Cyclone Creek and CR 240 meet. It’s located 8.25 miles after turning onto CR 240 from HWY 50. The road is 4WD (not too rough, any stock 4WD should be able to make it).

Since I made it here early I decided to check out the area. The trail starts just on the other side of the road, but isn’t marked well. In fact, the sign just says “closed to motorized vehicles”

I woke up at 2:45am and was on the trail by 3am. The trail started out decent, but quickly deteriorated and became difficult to follow.

After hiking for about half a mile I turned right (east) and headed up the side of the mountain. There was no trail here and it was dark so route finding was tricky, especially in the avalanche area (11,150’). I found a small stream and followed it until it went away, right at about treeline

Here the terrain became very, very steep (scree) and at times I crawled to continue moving forward. The wind was intense and cold, cold, cold. My nose started dripping like a faucet and yes, that’s snot you see on the lens at the bottom of the next few pictures. The scree gave way to some of the loosest talus/rubble I’ve ever experienced as I made my way towards the ridge thinking “there has to be a better way to ascend the ridge than what I’m doing, there just has to”. I probably would have altered my course a bit if it were daylight and I could see.

This ridge seemed to last forever, with a few small false summits

I’m not sure I’d ascend Carbonate this way again: I’d instead ascend the ridge to the right (start ascending directly from where I parked my truck). Here’s looking back at the way I ascended. The dotted line is how I’d do it if I were to do this again.

I summited Carbonate Mountain A to frigid winds that just wouldn’t quit. There was a summit register, but I didn’t even try to open it.

I couldn’t feel my lips or fingers and decided I’d just take a quick selfie with my camera and not stop to set the camera up for a better shot. This is also when I noticed the snot on my camera lens and cleaned it off…

I needed to keep moving and I needed the sun to warm things up and the wind to die down. The only thing I could control was my pace, so I kept moving. I followed the ridge north to Cyclone. The terrain was full of loose rocks but was straightforward

This was easier than it looked and didn’t take much time. Here’s looking back at the decent off Carbonate Mountain, and the ascent route up Cyclone Mountain

Somewhere along this route I stopped to put on my balaclava, and things immediately warmed up a bit. Here’s the talus filled final push up Cyclone

There was a summit register but it was open and empty. The wind hadn’t stopped but I was a tad bit warmer. I set up the camera, but only took one shot. This is what I got

Here’s the route to Grizzly Mountain. I was especially concerned with the area circled in red, as that’s the scrambling section and I was worried it had some snow I couldn’t see from my view atop Mt Aetna yesterday.

It looked good from this angle. I kept going, looking for possible bail out routes should I need one. I descended Cyclone Mountain, which was once again composed of steep and loose rubble

The rest of the trek was on more stable ground as I headed towards the traverse.

Here’s looking back on Carbonate and Cyclone

From the beginning the traverse over to Grizzly Mountain doesn’t seem that intimidating

But as soon as you round the first corner things get interesting. I began by sticking to the ridge

But that quickly became impossible. The rock here is very, very loose, large, and ready to fall. There are tons of rock-filled gullies and route finding can be tricky. I stayed to the left of the ridge the entire time because the right side was full of varying amounts of snow. I definitely experienced some class 4 sections. Here’s the way I went:

Here things got spicy, as I encountered a gully with several options for descent. There seemed to be three possible lines. I felt the safest route was the middle route and aimed for the snow

It’s steeper than it looks. Here’s looking back at the route I took. I’m thinking it was about 35 feet of downclimbing

I continued to make my way down towards the snow filled saddle. Luckily it was firm and easy to cross. I breathed a big sigh of relief when I made it here, but the dangerous part wasn’t over yet

Here’s an overview of my way to the saddle (looking back on my route)

The rock was still loose and I had to be careful to triple check every hold so as not to dislodge a rock. I went slowly here, carefully choosing my route.

Here’s the final route up Grizzly. The terrain became more stable as I continued, but the rocks were always loose

I summited Grizzly Mountain at 9:30am.

Grizzly Mountain Summit:

Here’s a look back at the ridge traverse as seen from the summit of Grizzly Mountain

While on the traverse I’d studied my intended route down. I was able to avoid most of the snow to head down into the basin.

While avoiding the snow I instead descended on scree and loose rock: I wasn’t sure which was worse, the ascent up Carbonate or the descent down Grizzly. I took it slow to avoid rolling an ankle and headed towards the basin. Here’s the route out:

I did have a little snow to contend with, but only for about 100 feet or so. The conditions were perfect to cross without traction.

Here’s a look at the rubble

And a look back at my descent route.

Once in the basin I knew I wanted to stay just to the right of the trees and follow the creek back to my truck. There was supposed to be a trail here, but I was unable to see it from above. Either that or it was under one of the dozens of small streams of water. What I hadn’t known until I’d made it down into the basin was the ‘dry’ area between the trees and the creek was actually a boggy mess! The mountains were melting out. It was impossible not to get my feet wet. For a while I tried hiking in the trees but the snow was just soft enough to make postholing miserable and snowshoes overkill. So I stayed in the marshy area, following game trails through the willows. I even saw two elk bounding away from me as I sloshed along.