centennial – Page 3 – Wild Wanderer

Pacific Peak – 13,965

RT Length: 13 miles

Elevation Gain: 3706’ (From McCullough Gulch lower gate closure)

There are so many routes up Pacific Peak I wasn’t sure which one to take? I ended up making the decision the night before, and decided on the Southwest Slopes because I liked the way it looked best on a topo map (particularly the headwall area). I arrived at the Blue Lakes road and found the gate closed to the McCullough Gulch Trailhead. So I parked at the closed gate, right next to a small stream of water running off the road. I gathered my gear and was off at 2:30am.

About 20 yards into my hike I heard a loud noise that sounded like a large animal slipping and sliding on the scree below the road and to the right of me. Well… at least whatever it was was running away from me. Quickly. The 2WD dirt road to the trailhead was clear, dry, and easy to follow. I was confused as to why it was still closed, since besides some extremely minor avy debris and a short area with water running by the side of the road, the road was clear.

I hiked on this dirt road for 2.2 miles from the closed gate to the start of trailhead. This is where the snow started, and in the dark obscured the beginning of the trail.

For the next mile the snow was intermittent and soft. I’d need snowshoes for about 30 steps, then not need them for dozens of yards, and then I’d need them again for 30 steps or so.

I crossed a bridge

And headed left on a trail (the road ended here)

This is where I put snowshoes on and wore them for the rest of the hike. This is also where the trail finding became difficult. I kept losing and finding the trail and losing it again, so I gave up trying to stay directly on trail and just headed northwest, keeping the creek to my left and the ridge to my right.

At the end of the boulder field I came across a sign indicating the trail kept going straight. Here I turned right (at the cairn) and followed the gully up and to the northwest, avoiding the large boulders

At the top of the gully I rounded the hillside and was deposited below a lake. I walked around the right side of the lake, found the rock rib, and decided to climb the snow next to it to the notch(so I didn’t need to take off my snowshoes again).

Here’s a look back down from the notch

I was at the top of the waterfall area and just needed to turn the corner to the right to see more of the basin

Wow! Lots of snow here! I headed northeast, skirting what was probably a small lake to my left and couldn’t help but wonder how many feet of snow I was standing on top of? Way to go June 2019 in Colorado! You’ve got the snow thing down!

I kept rounding the basin, staying to the right

Once again: So. Much. Snow! I kept heading northwest towards the end of the basin. It’s best to stay high here so you don’t have to regain elevation.

I made it to the headwall. This is the crux of the route, and I decided it was time to take off my snowshoes and put on my crampons. I got out my ice axe and garden tool (haven’t purchased a second ice tool yet). The sun was just starting to rise

I was pleasantly surprised at the conditions of the headwall: continuous snow coverage that was consolidated just right for crampons. It was tiring, but I had no difficulties gaining the top of the headwall. I mentally high fived myself for choosing this route today. Ok, just a few hundred more feet of elevation gain and I was there! I made it to the saddle between Atlantic and Pacific, singing “Home for the Holidays” as I went. To be honest, I that song was in my head for most of this hike. Oh, and that’s a false summit…

There was a lot of snow here, and some of it felt steeper than the headwall

It seemed pointless to summit the false summit, so I skirted the bump to the left and continued towards Pacific.

From here the postholing began. The snow here looks solid, but it hugs a ridgeline and much of the snow underneath has melted away, leaving a hollow cap. At times the cap was thick enough to support my weight, and at others I postholed up to my waist into (or between) large rocks. I have a few bruises from the fun

Still, it was better than hiking with crampons on the rocks (I was too lazy to take them off, so I stuck to the snow)

I summited at 6:45am

Summit Video

Here’s a look back on the route from the saddle to the summit

The wind was intense here, so I decided to head back down. I made it to the saddle and Atlantic looked very inviting. I’ve already summited Atlantic, and I’m on a bit of a time limit today, so I didn’t feel it necessary to summit Atlantic as well (but it was tempting… you should do it!).

I had to stop and enjoy the view from the area just below the saddle (where the wind finally let up a bit). It was breathtaking!

Saddle

From here you can see most of the route back. It’s important to follow the basin and stay close to Quandary Peak on your way out to exit in the correct area.

OK, time to start down the headwall.

The headwall was steep (so steep you can’t see the route down it here), but not as bad as a lot of gullies I’ve done lately. It’s supposed to be 40-45 degrees at points, but I was able to walk down the entire headwall without turning and facing the mountain.

At the base of the headwall I switched out my crampons for snowshoes, but kept ahold of my ice axe. I followed my tracks southwest

Rounded the ridge, and walked out of the basin

The snow was really starting to soften up at this point. For June 21, this is a ton of snow!

I made it down past the rib area without incident, and was just getting ready to skirt the small lake when it happened.

I was stepping off a rock and into snow and immediately my left leg sank and slid up to my upper thigh. I’ve postholed thousands of times, but never experienced anything like this: Try as I might, I couldn’t move my leg. It wasn’t hurt, but my snowshoe was stuck in the snow and keeping me from being able to move my foot and leg.

As I’d stepped on and slid into the deeper snow the snow had immediately softened up and settled like concrete around my leg, making it immobile. I thought to myself “So this is what they mean by not being able to get yourself out of an avalanche because the snow settles like concrete” and got to work. Luckily, this hadn’t been an avalanche and I still had my ice axe in my hand, so I started digging myself out. It took me a solid 15 minutes of work to free my leg. Also, my butt was now wet from sitting in the snow for so long. Lovely. At least no one was around to see.

The hike back to the trailhead was uneventful. In the light of day I was easily able to follow the trail and saw things I hadn’t before, like the log bridges and small pools and the actual trail itself…

There was also a lot of evidence of postholing from previous hikers using the trail. I hadn’t seen any of this in the dark (I’d paralleled the actual trail)

There was a snowbridge over the creek, and the creek was raging!

Stream

Back on the 2WD road I started seeing other hikers. Quite a few of them actually, and I figured they must have opened the gate. Sure enough, they had and there were cars parked at the summer trailhead as I passed.

I still had 2 miles to go however, but on a positive note, I saw a rather scruffy looking fox on my way back

Fox

Yep, the gate was now open

I made it back to my truck at 10:45am, making this a 13 mile hike with 3700’ in elevation gain in just over 8 hours.

Ugh! It looked like some kids had thrown mud at my truck! There was dried mud/dirt on every corner, like someone had used my truck for target practice with mud pies. I was going to have to wash it after picking my daughter up from camp (she’s a counselor at a Girl Scout Camp and off this weekend so I was on my way there now to pick her up). It was a 3 hour drive, and I made it in plenty of time before release. While we were walking back to the truck my daughter said “How did your truck get so dirty?” I told her I it happened at the trailhead this morning. She went and took a closer look, put each of her hands on two of the marks and said “Mom, how big are bears?” That’s when I took a closer look at the blobs and realized no one had thrown mud at my truck: It’d been visited by a bear! I could see swishes of hair and even faint claw marks on the paint. Cool! Maybe that’s the animal I’d heard at the start of my hike? Now I didn’t want to wash my truck! Luckily, I took a few photos before it rained on my way home. I just wish I’d looked at the ground around my truck when I’d noticed the mud… I would probably have seen bear tracks!

Cronin Peak 13,872

RT Length – 11.5 miles

Elevation Gain – 4510’

Today became a ‘Surprise! You’re free to hike!’ day at the last minute, which I quickly took advantage of because I was unable to get out last weekend. Luckily the weather cooperated as well. The 2WD road in to the Baldwin Gulch Trailhead was completely clear and dry all the way to the lower 2WD trailhead.

In the dark I could hear and kind of see Chalk Creek. It sounded like it was raging and looked dangerously close to reaching its banks in some areas. I seriously wondered if it would start to overflow later in the day. I’ve driven up the 4WD #277 road before, and even if it was open I didn’t much want to drive it again, so I parked along the side of the road (in the dark not seeing the lot just before the trailhead) and got my gear ready.

I was on the trail just after 3am.

The #277 Baldwin 4WD road was worse than I remember it from 2017 and I was immediately glad I’d chosen to park at the 2WD area. The road was in full spring conditions, with a river of water running directly down the road.

After following the road for about 2 miles I came across avalanche debris blocking the way. It wasn’t too difficult to navigate around, even in the dark, but it looks like it’s going to be there for a while and vehicles can’t cross the area.

If you do decide to drive up the 4WD road there are 2 camping spots with parking for 1 car each before you get to the avy debris. The last spot is located at 10,530’. It’s also the last place to turn around before the debris. I’d just recommend parking at the bottom and hiking in though, as it’s an easy hike.

After the avy debris the water on the road really picked up. It seemed the creek was overflowing its banks here and I easily crossed through a couple inches of water for hundreds of feet

There was also evidence of moose in the area along the trail, but it didn’t look too recent. I made it to the first Baldwin Creek crossing while it was still dark. I couldn’t see how deep the creek was, but my plan had initially been to rock hop across the creek on the boulders to the left. I got about halfway across and had second thoughts: the rocks were slippery and some were under quickly flowing water. I was going to have to jump to make the last few and would most likely end up in the creek in the process. So I backtracked and thought about what to do.

I don’t feel safe crossing streams barefoot, and I hadn’t brought extra shoes/sandals/socks, so if I was going to ford the creek I was going to have to complete the rest of the hike in wet shoes with soggy socks. This did not sound appealing, and I knew soggy socks would turn into ice socks when I got further up in elevation. I gave my summit a 50% chance of happening if I forded the creek but knew if I stopped now that number dropped to 0%. I decided to go for it. In the dark I studied the water and looked for the safest area to cross. This ended up being close to the mouth of the creek. I put my electronics in my pack, adjusted my trekking pole, and took a step in the water. Woot! My foot stayed dry! The rocks were not as slippery as I’d imagined, but I was still careful and gingerly crossed the stream. I took three more steps before my hiking shoes slowly started filling up with water.

I made it to the other side of the creek without incident. The only casualty was my wet feet. I kept hearing squish-squish with each step I took. This was not going to be enjoyable. Oh well, on I went.

It wasn’t long before I came to the second creek crossing, and since my feet were already wet I didn’t hesitate and just walked through this one as well.

This is where the snow started. Since it was still early morning it was consolidated and I was able to walk on top of the snow. As I continued up the trail I encountered more and more snow.

About a mile after the first Baldwin Creek crossing I turned right and entered the trees, aiming for where I mentally knew the willows area should be. I immediately sank up to my waist in snow, but I’m stubborn, so I had to sink about 10 more times in the next 10 more steps to break down and put on my snowshoes. From then on out I didn’t posthole (much). Oh, and my wet toes were beginning to freeze inside my wet socks.

I didn’t feel like I walked very far before I was in a clearing and could see the willows and the rest of the path before me. The sun was also starting to rise, which was nice. Here’s the route I took, staying out of the trees and going straight up the gully

Luckily there was a small snow bridge over the creek in this area, so I didn’t need to get my feet wet again. I could hear the water rushing underneath, and asked myself if the snow bridge would still hold me this afternoon on my way back?

After crossing the stream I navigated around the trees, sticking to the left (southwest). As it rounded I turned west and followed the gully on consolidated snow.

There are a few options from this point to gain the ridge and summit Cronin. One is to take the north ridge, but the scree here didn’t look appealing. Also, there were goats enjoying their breakfast and I didn’t want to disturb them (but it was mainly the scree that made the decision for me).

So I continued following the gully up and to the left (west)

I still had options for gaining the ridge, and decided the safest option was to kind of parallel the ridge as I gained elevation. Here’s the path I took to gain the ridge

My socks were now frozen. I could feel the ice between my toes, but surprisingly they weren’t cold. I decided not to question it and kept going. Gaining the ridge wasn’t difficult, but the snow was starting to soften up.

I gained the ridge close to the false summit, and could see the rest of the trail in front of me. There was just enough snow to walk on and goat tracks to follow.

From the false summit there’s a little bit of a downclimb and I’d been told it included some tricky footwork, but the snow obscured any difficulties. I postholed here once or twice up to my waist, even with snowshoes on.

The ridge was one long but squatty cornice. I stayed to the right on the snow and walked where the snow met the dirt.

On the final push to the summit the snow got increasingly softer but was still navigable.

I summited at 7am, and set up my camera with my new gorillapod (which isn’t at all what I’d expected: poor quality but gets the job done).

Summit Video:

(For some reason I said Casco, but I was on Cronin. Whoops! Oh well… my fingers were too frozen to try a second time.)

Check out Antero

It was windy and my feet were now solid blocks of ice, so I didn’t stay long on the summit. I turned to look back at the way I’d come

Here’s the route I took back

The snow was warming up quickly so I got out my ice axe. It helped me through some quick sketchy sections

The most difficult part of the day was just beginning. This snow section here below the ridge was rapidly warming and became slippery. I had to walk slowly to prevent slipping, yet wanted to make it down before the sun warmed up the snow even more. I couldn’t believe how soft the snow was for 7:30am!

I made it to the top of the gully area, said hi to the goats, and breathed a sigh of relief: I hadn’t slipped once!

Here’s a look back at the route

And a look down the gully

I made it back to the willows, following the tracks I’d made on the way in. My feet had finally defrosted and I was squishing again. From here I decided while I was hiking through the trees I would aim for the ridge directly in front of me

I made my way to the snow bridge and looked back at the mountain. Cronin looks better in daylight!

The snow bridge still held my weight

Once in the trees I walked northeast until I made it back to the road. I’d overshot my entry point by a few yards, but was pleased with my navigation skills. My toes had almost dried by the time I made it to the first creek crossing. Both creek crossings were much easier in the light of day, and with the added bonus of previous experience I just walked across them both. I followed the road back to my truck, taking pictures in the daylight of the fun I’d had in the morning, my feet squishing the entire way. I made it back to my truck at 10am, making this an 11.5 mile hike with 4510’ in elevation gain in 7 hours.

Chalk Creek hadn’t overflowed its banks, but it was raging! Here’s a picture from further down the road

Thunder Pyramid 13,944

RT Length: 11.5 miles

Elevation Gain: 4697’

I did a ton of research on this one, as I didn’t want to have to attempt it twice. I’d been watching the weather for the past few weeks for this peak, and now that the road was open into Maroon Bells I figured this would be my best chance of making this peak a snow climb this year. The night before the attempt I was re-reading previous conditions reports and someone mentioned they’d have liked to have had 2 ice picks for this peak. This seemed curious to me, but if someone’s going to give honest advice I was going to take it. The only problem: It was 6pm and I didn’t have a second ice axe. I gave it some thought, and a wild idea came into my head: I wonder if I could use a hammer? Probably not the best idea, but maybe just bring it along just in case? I went to the garage to find a hammer and found a very cheap adze hoe I’d bought at the dollar store last year. It had three prongs, was very lightweight, and I thought this looked even better than a hammer! I had no intention of relying on this as my only source of stability (I brought along my ice axe) but I thought I’d have it “just in case”. I got out some paracord and made a quick leash for it and attached a carabineer to it and put it in my pack, never intending to actually use it.

When I made it to the trailhead there were two other vehicles in the lot. I got my gear together and as I was ready to go I noticed a young man getting his gear ready, so I went over to talk with him to see which peak he was climbing. He was a bit surly (which I attributed to it being 2:30am) and he told me he and his friends were going to snowboard down Pyramid. I wished them luck, put on my helmet (so I wouldn’t forget to later) and was on my way.

I was surprised to find they’ve recently roped off Maroon Lake (on my way out I saw dozens of people step over the rope for pictures, so unless they have personnel there monitoring visitors I don’t think the ropes are going to make much of a difference).

The trail was dry until I hit 9950’, about half a mile before Crater Lake. Luckily the snow was firm so I didn’t need to put on my snowshoes. Crater Lake was covered in recent avalanche debris, but even in the dark it was easy to navigate through.

After Crater Lake the trail pretty much stopped: it didn’t look like anyone had been out hiking past Crater Lake yet this season. There was a thick layer of snow and what seemed like avalanches everywhere the trail was supposed to be, so I just worked my way through the willows and followed Maroon Creek as best I could. I postholed a bit in the camping area, but otherwise the snow was firm. It was about here I turned around and saw someone’s headlamp in the dark. It looked like someone as hiking North Maroon Peak this morning, and making good time. Cool!

I never saw the creek crossing as it was covered in snow, and in the dark I accidentally went too far and had to backtrack. When I made it back to the correct spot to ascend the first access gully I noticed an avalanche had occurred here as well. The good news is it makes it easier to see your entire route. Here’s the route I took up the first access gully.

This was much steeper than it looked. At the base I put on my crampons and looked for a good route. Boy, was that steep! The snow was consolidated enough to need crampons, but the slope angle was so steep I couldn’t just walk up it either: I needed to kick in steps. I decided to take out that adze I’d brought with me and try it out. Kicking in steps was difficult because the snow was so hard. I’d kick about 15 times for each step.

However, the adze was amazing! In fact, I liked it better than my ice pick. It wasn’t practical for self arresting, but those 3 prongs were great for traction! I had the adze in my left hand, and once in the snow it felt more secure than my right hand did holding my ice axe. Wow!

It’s really important to pick your line from the base of the mountain because once you’re climbing the terrain is very steep and it’s hard to tell where the actual summit is. This is the route I took.

From the top of the first access gully I needed to ascend a band of cliffs. This is the route I chose to take

After the cliff bands there’s over 1500’ of gully to climb. This sounds straightforward enough, but the route was really, really steep. Added to that there were unavoidable frozen roller balls and avy debris littering the whole route.

It wasn’t lost on me I was climbing up a slide area, but the entire mountain was a slide area. The debris on the mountain was actually helpful while upclimbing because it gave my feet stability (most of the time, when it wasn’t sliding out from underneath me). I knew I was climbing on a ticking time bomb: as soon as the sun warmed up the mountainside all this debris would become slush and slide (hopefully after I’d made it down). I tried to decide if it was safer to hike down the slide areas or on the firm snow on steeper terrain that looked like it was about to slide. I wasn’t sure?

Progress was very slow going. If I were to lose my balance and fall self arrest would be difficult at this angle, and I was going to slide a long, long way if that happened. So I couldn’t fall. I made sure each step was secure, having at least 3 points of contact at all times. This entire stretch required kicking in steps, often times on terrain that fought against me. Did I mention the adze? It was amazing!!! I didn’t care how silly I looked, I was so glad I’d chosen to bring it along.

I was in a race against the sun, and kept reevaluating my current situation. The snow was firm and I was making good (if slow) progress, but I told myself to stay out of harm’s way I needed to make it to the top of the gully before the sun crested the saddle. If the sun made it before me, I was going to have to turn back for safety reasons.

Most of the trip reports I’d read said to take the right gully, but that wasn’t an option for me as the safer terrain today was to the left. I topped out of the gully at a small saddle between Point 13,820 and Thunder Pyramid. Here I stopped to catch my breath. I’d done it! I’d beaten the sun! Woot! It was now a quick 300’ or so climb to the summit. But was that really the summit? I took out my phone and pulled up Peakbagger. Yep, that was it: I needed to go right. I put my phone away, took off my crampons for the climb, crossed the saddle and sank up to my arms in soft snow.

Drat! I seriously had to hurry! The sun was going to warm up the mountainside fast. Here’s the rest of the route

Whoops, my camera was still covered in snow from that unexpected dip. Here’s a better picture of the route I took

It looks steeper than it is. I’ve heard this is class 4-5, but I was able to keep it at class 3-4.

I made it to the top, took a quick selfie (my gorillapod is still broken: another’s on its way so hopefully this DSLR-selfie thing can stop soon)

And booked it back to the saddle. Pyramid is looking wonderful this morning

As are the bells

The sun was heating things up fast but Thunder Pyramid was still (mostly) in shadows

I put my crampons back on, grabbed my ‘tools’, and began descending. I descended a little more to the right than I’d summited, with the intention of climbing the smooth snow instead of the avy debris (which I was worried would fall). Solid line is how I summited, dotted line is how I descended. Neither was better than the other.

I had to turn and face the mountain the entire way down, and wouldn’t you know it? Slick as snot. This side was no better, and probably worse.

If anything, there seemed to be more avy debris here, none of it stable.

I tried to avoid the areas that had recently slid because they were very, very slick. I was also happy to see some of my kicked in steps on the way back down!

Evidence of wet slab avalanche

Downclimbing was just as hard as climbing up, with the added anxiety of making it down (safely) before things started to slide. I made it to the top of the cliff bands and was finally able to turn around and walk down

The snow was seriously starting to soften up fast. I kept increasing my speed until I made it to the cairn at the top of the first access gully. Here was where I could finally breathe a sigh of relief: I was out of the danger zone! I figured it was time for some self care: I reapplied sunscreen (knowing on my way down I’d already done some damage), took off my gloves (it was warm here!), exchanged my crampons for snowshoes, and looked back at the route I’d taken down the cliffs.

I also took a picture of my ‘tools’. I was so thankful for the conditions report that suggested I bring 2 ice axes! The adze wasn’t an ice axe but it had proven extremely useful. I was glad to have had it with me.

Just as I took this picture I heard a loud pop and then a crash that sounded like thunder. It startled me at first, until I realized one of the waterfalls had warmed up and dropped a bunch of ice down its chute. Then I heard it again, and again, and again. The entire basin had warmed up at the same time and was filled with icefall. I’d made it down in perfect time! Woot! I sat there and waited for the crashes to stop, just enjoying the experience while I was there.

But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I’d thought I could descend via the avalanche area and skip going back down that steep access gully, but when I made it to the avalanche area it cliffed out

Ugh! I had to backtrack up to the cairn and get out my tools one more time. The snow was very soft at this point, and I should have just glissaded down the access gully, but I didn’t want to take off my snowshoes (etc) so I turned and faced the cliff and descended in rapidly softening snow.

After heading down I turned right (instead of left, the way I’d initially made my way in the dark) and was able to safely descend via the avalanche area. This will probably be the new route

Here’s looking back on the route

And now to head back down the basin to Maroon Lake.

The willows were much easier to navigate in the daylight, but unfortunately I was postholing in the snow. There was avy debris hugging the base of the mountains, so I tried to stick to the creek as much as possible.

Maroon Creek is beginning to thaw

And the avalanche area covering Crater Lake didn’t look so intimidating in the daylight

Oh, and you haven’t experienced spring snowshoeing in Colorado until you’ve snowshoed over avy debris. There’s no other experience like getting a pine branch stuck in your snowshoe. And don’t bother removing it: another one will take its place with your next step.

It was really nice to hear all the birds chirping on my way out. After Crater Lake the crowds picked up and so did the slush. I was very thankful to have my snowshoes. Every tourist I passed commented on how ‘smart’ I’d been to bring them. Ha!

The last part of the trail was over a path with just enough rocks to slow you down, but at least it was snow free.

I started at 2:30am and made it back down at 1:30pm, making this an 11.5 mile hike/climb in 11 hours.

Disclaimer: I’m NOT advocating the use of garden tools in place of proper mountaineering equipment. There are tons of reasons why this was a bad idea, but in the end it worked out well. The next day I went to REI to buy a second tool. I asked an employee for help, and she couldn’t recommend anything to me at the moment (apparently ice climbing gear isn’t in season in June). The only thing she could recommend was a second ice axe, exactly like the one I currently have (which I thought was overkill, too much weight, etc.). So I’m currently in the market for an ice pick for my left hand and keeping the adze in my pack until that happens. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Track:

Thunde6 Thunder 8

Point 13,820

RT Length: 13.5 miles

Elevation Gain: 4938’

So far this weekend nothing was going as planned. I took a 2 hour nap before getting up at 10pm to drive the 6 hours to the trailhead. I’d wanted to hike Point 13,811 today but ended up getting “lost” (apparently there are two Williams Creek Trailheads geographically close to each other) and long story short the workaround was a 3 hour drive, so I missed my window to climb Point 13,811 safely yesterday. What really stinks is I’d printed out the correct directions, set my GPS to the incorrect campground, and when my GPS took me a different way I didn’t challenge it, I just figured I was headed in the back way (face palm). Lesson learned.

Well, I’d driven all this way and wasn’t going to drive back without a hike. I switched my plans and decided to hike 13ers Baldy and friends instead.

After hiking Baldy and friends I drove the 30 minutes to Lake City and the William’s Creek Campground. There was tension in the air in Lake City. The residents seemed to be on edge, and for good reason: Avalanches have closed the popular 4WD roads in the area and now the residents are worried of flooding when those avalanches thaw. Apparently so are the tourists because they aren’t here. This is Memorial Day weekend, and the city looks like a ghost town.

I drove to the campground and was surprised to find not one of the campsites was taken. Not one.

I stopped to talk with the camp host and she told me she’s never seen it like this before. Her voice was quivered as she worried it would be like this all summer. I told her I was just interested in sleeping in my truck near the trailhead but wondered what to do since the trailhead was inside the campground? Should I just park on the road and hike in? She told me to just pick any spot I wanted and I could camp for free. I offered to pay, and she refused. Wow!

She was also concerned I was going out there by myself with “all that snow”. I told her I’d be fine and I’d be gone by noon, but if my truck was still here at night she could start worrying about me.

The trail starts at the back of the campground between spots 11 & 12, so I backed my truck into spot #12 and prepared to make it an early night. A quick wet-wipe bath, 4 packages of tuna, a roll of Ritz crackers, and 3 shots of whiskey later I was sound asleep (by 3pm).

I woke up twice during the night but was able to quickly get back to sleep. When my alarm rang at 2am I was not a happy camper (I’m not a fan of sleeping at trailheads: getting up is the hardest part) but forced myself out of my warm sleeping bag and got ready for the hike. I made myself eat a bagel as well (I don’t like to eat in the morning, as it makes me nauseous while hiking, but I knew I needed the calories). I was going to drink water on this hike too for two reasons. 1) I was dehydrated from not drinking anything yesterday (except 3 shots of whiskey) and 2) hydration is important. I just hoped it didn’t make me nauseous.

I’d done so much research and knew I wanted to make it to treeline as the sun rose, so I needed to be on the trail early. It was 4.5 miles of intense elevation gain to make it to treeline, so I started today at 2:30am, passing through the gate between sites 11 & 12.

The first part of the trail was dry.

The trail was easy to follow as it crossed a few streams and skirted the south side of the mountain. The stream crossings were a bit tricky in the dark, as everything was slippery and loose and the water was flowing fast. Any logs you see that look stable over the water are in fact, not.

I could see lots of evidence of deer/elk/moose in the area (all 3 determined by the scat I saw) but didn’t see any wildlife.

The trail passed by a few ponds. The first one I had no trouble navigating in the dark

The second one is where I had some problems. The correct thing to do here is to go left and hug the side of the slope. In the dark I didn’t know this and instead followed what I thought was the trail (but was really the creek). Luckily this only lasted a quarter mile or so and I was back on track. I didn’t even know I’d done anything wrong until I was hiking back and could see the obvious (and dry) trail above me. The solid way is the way you should go, the dotted one is the way I took. My advice: stay high, stay dry.

Directly after I found the trail again I was in a rocky basin. However, I didn’t know this at the time, I just thought I was following a good trail (with a little bit of solid snow). On my way back I realized it was a rocky basin.

Here’s where the “fun” began. We’re currently right in the middle of spring thaw after an intense winter season. At this point the trail conditions became less than ideal as the spring melt became a river in the middle of the trail

You can imagine how much fun this was to hike in the early morning dark when it was still pretty icy. I came to a small meadow and followed it through what had become a springtime marsh

This area did not smell good: It smelled infected. Just after the meadow is where the fun began, as I was now on a very small and “defined” jeep road. There were several areas with large downed trees covering the trail. On my way back in the daylight this wasn’t difficult to navigate, but as I’ve found quite a bit lately, navigating downed trees in the dark isn’t a pleasant task. Luckily they were all within the same 200 feet or so on the trail.

Oh, and remember how the trail was covered in ice and water earlier? Now it was covered in ice and water and snow! So much fun! I hopped back and forth, trying to stay on the snow. Luckily it was consolidated and not too difficult to accomplish.

Here the trail became difficult to follow again due to the conditions. I was able to find the “jeep road” again at this point (here I’m looking back)

The steady snow began at 11,000’ and never stopped. The road was initially easy to follow, and then around 11,500’ I lost it.

In the dark I had no idea where the road had gone, but the snow was getting a little slushy so I put on my snowshoes and looked at my topo. I needed to head east to summit the mountain in front of me (12,000’). I aimed east and forged my own trail, amazed at how deep the snow was in this area.

I made it to treeline, where both the wind and elevation gain quickly picked up. I was excited to get to the top of this hill (which was point 12,195)

Here’s looking back on the way I came up to treeline

My plan had worked! I’d made it to treeline just as the sun was beginning to rise

I took another sip of water and considered: I now had a clear view of the path to the summit. Here’s the route I took

It looks easy and straightforward, and it is, but there are a few things you should know:

Point 12,195 and Point 12,483 are not ranked (I know, bummed me out too!)
- Neither is Point 13,632
The elevation gain is steeper than it looks
It’s longer than it looks (about a mile and a half, maybe more)

So I started on my way. I skirted Point 12,483 and started hiking the hill to the east (it looks like you can just go straight and hike the adjacent hill but you’ll hit a gully). So, you hike up and when you reach a small plateau you turn right and head north to the summit.

From the plateau if you look left you can see Point 13,632, and to the right is Point 13,811

I headed north to summit Point 13,811. Here the snow changed and changed and changed, from consolidated to postholing to very slippery ice. This is the route I took. I took the dotted line up, and the solid line down.

I would NOT recommend taking the dotted line route. I repeat, DO NOT TAKE THIS ROUTE. It was nasty scree mixed with ice or snow, neither which provided any traction on the 30-35* slope. A fall here would tear up your gear and your hands if you weren’t wearing protection.

From halfway up I got my first good view of another centennial: Point 13,832 (and took a few more sips of water)

I summited to intense winds on a small cornice.

There was no place to set my camera where it wouldn’t slide down the peak so I did my best to get a selfie (sorry, it’s terrible) and looked around

I’d really wanted to hike over to Point 13,832 today and get in both centennials, but I didn’t feel secure on that ridge. In fact, I’d kind of expected it to be more wind-blown. I’d just hiked across snow that looked similar, and the conditions varied quite a bit. Parts that looked secure were not, and parts that didn’t look solid were. I didn’t want to fall and slide that far unsupported. The fall line was so long I couldn’t get it all in one picture

And so I mentally prepared myself to drive the 6 hours back to Lake City sometime this summer to knock off that other point. Time to head down. As I said before, this last 200 feet of vertical or so was not pleasant. I wasn’t going to do that again on my way down. Not going to happen. But the ridge wasn’t much better: It was all ice at a sharp angle, and when the ice gave way rocks went with it. I’m not gonna lie: I turned and faced the mountain at times for this part. Also, I love my ice axe.

I made it to the small saddle and looked at the rest of the route down

And started to get nauseous. Ugh! I knew this would happen! Well, at least I was descending in elevation. Here the snow had varying conditions as well, but less danger of injury

I made it to Point 12,483, over Point 12,195, and back down the trail, following my tracks below treeline. Here I discovered things I hadn’t seen in the dark (the correct trail, stream crossings, navigation around downed trees, rock piles, etc.) and a few things I hadn’t seen in the dark (notice the spider?)

Oh, an old beaver dam…

I was almost done with the hike when I came to a fork in the road I hadn’t remembered, and decided to take the path more traveled. This ended up being a mistake (although not an unfortunate one). I quickly came to a trail register I hadn’t seen in the dark. It was designed for hikers over 7 feet tall, so someone had placed a large rock at its base. I still couldn’t see inside.

Now I was in a meadow. I wasn’t entirely sure I remembered a meadow at the beginning of this hike? Hmmm… things are different in the dark

As I walked through the meadow my arms started to hurt. You know what I’m talking about: your arms get sore from elevation and the blood pools in your hands and you do the “Praise Jesus” walk through the woods. Well, I was doing it now through the meadow

And then I saw houses? Wait. Uh oh. This wasn’t right, but I immediately knew what had happened. I exited the meadow and saw a sign I hadn’t seen on my drive in: A sign for the (correct) Williams Creek trailhead. Because of it’s placement you can’t see it driving in unless you know it’s there, but you can see it driving out.

I turned right and immediately saw the campground sign. Hmph. OK, so I guess I hadn’t needed to enter the campground to find the trailhead.

I felt really dumb, but not really because at least I knew where I was. I walked back to the campground, through the campground to my campsite, and stopped the clock. I made it back at exactly 11:11am

I’d hiked 13.5 miles with almost 5000’ of elevation gain in 8.5 hours.

Oh, and check out my pants. I seriously need a new pair of winter pants. I’ve had this pair since 1998 when I bought it at a garage sale for $3. Last year my crampons tore a hole in them, and I’ve been sewing them up ever since, but I think it’s time for a new pair. This hole collects snow when I hike, which means I can stop every 5 minutes or so and unload 5lbs of snow-turned ice or I can carry it in my leg, limping unevenly as I go.

Added to that they’re bibs, which makes using the facilities unpleasant; especially when it’s cold outside. I’ve been looking for new snow pants for quite a while but I can’t find any in my size, and yes I’ve checked Goodwill and in children’s sections. Any petite ladies out there have advice on buying snow pants that fit (and preferably look good)? I think I’m seriously in the market for a new pair at this point…

On my way out I stopped by and thanked the Camp Host, wishing I had something to offer her in return (since she wouldn’t take money). Usually I give out Girl Scout Cookies but I didn’t have any this time. She asked me to let people know Lake City is open, half of the city is in no danger of flooding, and she’d love to have some campers! If you get the chance this summer, consider camping in Lake City at any of the campgrounds along County Road 30. They’re open (and empty). I drove through the Mill Creek Campground and it didn’t have any campers either…

Lackawanna – 13,826

RT Length – 6 miles

Elevation Gain – 3655’

I made it to the La Plata Trailhead a little after 4am and was surprised to see someone getting ready to hike La Plata. As I was getting my gear together I heard him trek off in his snowshoes.

I started at 4:20am, excited to find the 82 open well past the La Plata trailhead. I briefly considered moving my truck, but quickly thought this wasn’t a long hike anyway: It would be nice to get in a few extra miles to make this hike a little longer.

The road was open, but there wasn’t a lot of parking available because of all the avalanche debris lining the roadway. Everything that could slide in the area apparently had slid at least once.

On a positive note, everything smelled like fresh cut pine. I followed the road for a mile in the dark and then turned right to begin the climb. This area had seen an avalanche as well, and even though they weren’t completely necessary at this point I put on my crampons and left them on for the entire hike. In the dark navigating the debris up the avalanche slide felt daunting, but in the light of day it looks pretty easy. Here’s the route I took

The gully was steep and filled with snow, so I just kept to the center and followed the gully. Even though this area had avalanched, as I neared the top of the gully I discovered it was loaded with snow ready to drop. I didn’t want to be here when the weather warmed up today!

The sun started to rise, and at about 13,000’ I started using my ice axe, following the center of the gully.

The steepest part was just below the summit ridge. Here is where my ice axe proved extremely useful and my calves started screaming. I just kept crawling forward, intent on summiting before the weather warmed the snow.

At the summit ridge the terrain became much easier. I stood up and walked toward the summit bump

This part was easy! There was a small section to climb

And I was on the summit by 7am.

Summit Video

The weather was absolutely perfect! It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either, and there wasn’t any wind! I was able to get a video on the summit, and actually stayed and enjoyed the view for a while

OK, now it was time to head down.

In the light of day I could appreciate just how steep the gully was

About halfway down I paused to take a video of the water I could hear flowing under the snow below me. Yep, it was time to get off this waterfall

Gully Video:

I could see the effects of the avalanches all around me

After making it down the gully the last part to the road was easy, I just navigated my way around the solid ice towards the road.

From the road looking up you can see I just followed the avalanche slide up the gully

I made it back to my truck at 8:45am, making this a 6 mile hike/climb in 4.5 hours.

Relive: video

I decided to see just how far the 82 was open, so I drove down the road a bit in my truck. I made it 2.5 miles before the next closure sign, and saw evidence of multiple avalanches along the way.

With my morning over at 9am I decided to drive 4 hours to the next trailhead and rest a bit before my next adventure…

Mt Buckskin 13,871 & Loveland Mountain 13,692

RT Length: 7 miles

Elevation Gain: 2950’

I thought I was done with summits for 2018. I’ll be gone next week on a road trip visiting my family in Mississippi for Christmas, and along the way picking up my son from his base in Texas to join us (I’m so glad he got leave for the holidays before transferring to Alaska!!!). I’d just been hiking yesterday, but today I noticed the weather for tomorrow was perfect for hiking as well. I did some mental calculations, and then had this conversation with my youngest (a sophomore in High School).

Me: What are your plans for tomorrow?

Her: I was planning on sleeping in and then studying for finals. And I’d like to get in some rink time if possible.

Me: Do you want any help studying? I did graduate with my undergrad 2^nd in my class. And I have an MBA. I’m pretty good at the whole ‘studying’ thing.

Her (with a terrified look on her face): No mom. Just… no. I get straight A’s and have my academic letter to prove it. I’ve got this.

Me: I was thinking of hiking tomorrow, but I’d also like to spend time with you. What do you think?

Her: You should go hiking. That way I can sleep and study. I’ll probably still be sleeping when you get back anyway.

Me: How much studying do you need to do? Is studying more important than sleeping?

Her: Mom, I’m a teenager. Teenagers gotta sleep. At this point I need more sleep than study time.

Me: OK, but that still leaves rink time. How about we go to the rink tonight from 7-9pm, tomorrow I’ll hike, you’ll sleep, I’ll wake you up to study, and we’ll have dinner together.

Emily: Deal.

Woot! It looked like I was going to get one more hike in this year after all! The weather looked great, and my schedule for the morning was cleared. Because of rink time I didn’t make it to bed until 10pm, which meant I only got 4 hours of sleep, but that seems to be the norm for me these days. I’ve discovered the hike is always worth the lack of sleep.

Once again, I woke up at 2am and drove to the trailhead. I encountered a herd of about 40 elk at the same place I had on Friday, and this time I was prepared when I saw them in the center of the road. I slowed down and waited for them to budge, but they didn’t seem concerned with doing so. They were quite happy to stand in the middle of the road and just watch me wait. It seemed I was in more of a hurry than they were. Luckily there were no other vehicles on this road. After two minutes I did something I knew would make them move: I took out my camera. Sure enough, before I got the chance to take picture they’d scattered to the sides of the road. I was on my way!

I haven’t been to the Kite Lake Trailhead for what seemed like ages. The last time I was here was back in June of 2017. The 2WD dirt road was icy but clear and plowed up to the gate closure, about a mile from Kite Lake.

This was also a pleasant surprise: I’d expected to park about 3 miles from the trailhead, and here I was, just 1 mile away. This day just kept getting better and better!

There was room for about 5 cars at the gate, if everyone cooperated and parked nicely.

I was the first vehicle there, so I tried to pull up and leave as much room as possible for others. Also, about 40 feet before the gate the road isn’t plowed, and a few vehicles tried to drive past a snow drift and obviously had to turn back. My advice: Don’t even attempt to drive past where it’s plowed. Your vehicle might make it, but there’s no parking in front of the gate so you’ll need to turn around and park lower anyway.

I gathered my gear and began hiking towards Kite Lake at 4:45am. Just after the gate I had to stop and put on my snowshoes. I left them on for the entire hike.

The hike up to Kite Lake was simple: I just followed the road.

The sky was clear with no moon, and when I looked up I often saw leftover shooting stars from Friday’s Geminid Meteor Shower. The only downside was the wind! Wow! It sure wasn’t the forecasted 8mph, and it wasn’t letting up. It was like I was walking headfirst into a wind tunnel: the wind was funneling down the mountains and straight towards me as I trudged towards the lake. I remembered last time I was here the wind was intense as well, and hoped it died down at some point.

OK, I made it to Kite Lake.

My directions said to look for the trail to Lake Emma, which was supposed to be highly visible behind the bathrooms to the left. Hmmm. No trail was visible, just a lot of snow.

I hiked around for a bit, looking for an obvious trail sign, tracks, path indentations in the snow, etc, and when I didn’t find any I just headed southeast.

Before long I was in a basin, and thankfully here the wind stopped. Even though it was dark I could tell I was in a basin because the ground was relatively flat, and there were outlines of the mountains surrounding me. I’d been told there were willows here, but they must have been buried under all the snow.

I crossed the basin to the south, squinting in the dark, trying to see Mt Buckskin before me. From the basin I’d wanted to get a good look at Mt Buckskin so I could pick a safe line to climb, but in the dark all I could see was there were a lot of snow covered slopes surrounding me. I couldn’t be sure in the dark how stable/deep/etc. those snow covered slopes were. In fact, I couldn’t see much but lots of white surrounding a few areas of black shapes. I was pretty sure the dark areas were cliffs, and not climbable. Imagine seeing this (which is actually more than I was actually able to see at the time), and trying to decide which path was safest to take.

I kept slowing my pace, hoping the sun would rise and I’d be able to see what I was up against conditions wise. Why wasn’t it getting light out? This would be a whole lot easier if it were light out.

After checking my watch and realizing it wouldn’t be light out for quite some time I decided to aim left, where it looked like there was tundra near the snow. I looked at my topo map and it seemed to have the least drastic slope angle. I figured if I stuck to that path I’d have firm ground to hike up if the snow wasn’t stable. This ended up being an excellent idea. The terrain was quite steep but not as steep as in other areas, and no cliffs. Here’s the route I took. In the daylight I realized I’d made the correct choice.

About halfway up the hill I could see power lines in front of me, and decided this would be an excellent point of reference. I aimed for the power line with 3 poles (and discovered later all the others only had 2).

This was a very steep section. Here’s the look back down (from later in the day)

When I made it to the power line I set my next goal of making it to the top of the summit ridge. While the sun hadn’t risen yet, the sky was beginning to get light and I could see better than when I was down in the basin.

Here the snow was firm and I wanted to keep my snowshoes on so I looked for a continuous line of snow to the ridge. Here’s the path I took

Once again, pictures don’t do the steepness here justice.

The snow at this point was consolidated and I was glad my snowshoes had crampons: microspikes wouldn’t have been sufficient. I was also glad I had my ice axe.

After what seemed like forever I gained the ridge just as the sky began to turn pink.

I stopped for a minute to admire the view, and then realized if I hurried I’d be able to make it to the summit to watch the sunrise. I quickly sauntered in my snowshoes the last hundred yards or so towards the summit.

I summited at 7am

18 Mt Buckskin 13965

Mt Buckskin:

And yes, I was able to watch the sunrise (it rose directly from behind Pikes Peak, which was cool but not something I was able to capture with my camera)

I also wanted to summit Loveland Mountain today, so I turned and walked back the way I’d come. The trail over to Loveland Mountain looked very straightforward. I could see the path outlined in snow

I made my way to the Buckskin/Loveland saddle, careful not to trip in my snowshoes.

From here there was a rocky section to navigate

And then I had the choice to summit via the trail to the right or the hard packed snow to the left.

I had on my snowshoes, so I decided to take the snow route, which has more snow than it looks like from a distance

I gained Loveland’s ridge and walked to the cairn on the relatively flat summit

I summited Loveland Mountain at 7:50am

26 Loveland Mountain 13692

Loveland Mountain:

Now that the sun had fully risen it was time to apply my sunscreen. This has been problematic in the past because a tube of sunscreen freezes in the winter above treeline. Using an aerosol spray isn’t practical for obvious reasons (wind) and the sunscreen that comes in a deodorant-like stick doesn’t apply evenly. Yesterday I’d visited my new esthetician and we’d had the usual sunscreen talk. I’d told her I usually just keep my face completely covered when above treeline, since I’m unable to apply sunscreen when it freezes. She told me about something she’d recently heard of, and I decided to give it a try. I went to the dollar store and bought a compact, took out the powder, cleaned the compact out, and filled it with my favorite sunscreen. Then I placed a new compact sponge over it (30 for $1 at the dollar store as well) and let the sponge absorb the sunscreen.

I had the compact in my pocket as I was hiking this morning (inside of a plastic ziplock as well) and now was the time to take it out and see if the sponge had kept the sunscreen from freezing. I sat on the summit cairn, took out the sunscreen filled compact and applied the sunscreen to my face using just the sponge. I was amazed at how well this worked! The sunscreen hadn’t frozen! Using the sponge it was easy to apply the sunscreen to my face, and my fingers didn’t get cold because they weren’t in direct contact with the sunscreen. I hadn’t expected this to work so well. This is life changing. I took a picture to prove to her I’d tried out her idea.

OK, that had been fun, but now it was time to head back down. Here’s a look at the ridge back to Mt Buckskin

Yes, I had to regain some elevation, but at this point I was feeling great so it was no big deal. When I reached the top of the Mt Buckskin ridge I noticed a few cool looking cornices forming (these were small, only a few feet wide)

Here’s a look at the view from the Mt Buckskin Ridge

On my way back down I once again aimed for the power lines, which were much easier to see in the light of day.

Here’s looking back up the slope to Buckskin

From the power lines I headed back into the basin.

And from the basin a look back up at the route I’d taken

Wow, what a basin! In the light of day I could full appreciate how vast it was. I stopped to take some pictures and admire the view

I realized I’d made the right choice in choosing the line I had to ascend Buckskin’s slope, and now aimed for Kite Lake

Once at Kite Lake, and while hiking the road back to the gate, I got a really good view of Mt Buckskin and the path I’d taken to the top. I had the realization this hike would have been much more straightforward in the dark if I’d just followed the power lines up the ridge.

The power lines start on the road and lead up the mountain, avoiding the basin altogether. I’m not sure if they cross private land (etc.) but this seems a much easier option that would have made the hike quicker as well.

In any event, the weather had been perfect today once the wind had stopped. Not a cloud in the sky, and as I was walking from Kite Lake back to my truck it got really warm out and I was able to take off my hat and balaclava.

I made it back to my truck at 10:30am, making this a 7 mile hike with 2950’ in elevation gain in 5 hours, 45 minutes. This gave me plenty of time to drive home, get the truck washed and gassed up for the road trip, and to wake my still sleeping daughter up to start studying. All in all, an absolutely perfect day!

And just because it’s fun, here’s my Relive video: https://www.relive.cc/view/2020503730

Atlantic Peak 13,856

RT Length:

Elevation Gain:

I really wanted to do Atlantic and Pacific together, but until April I have limited time schedules for hiking (I need to be back at my truck by noon to make it home in time to pick up my daughter from school, so it’s hikes under 8 miles until then). The weather indicated Atlantic Peak would be a good choice for today, so I went for it. This was only supposed to be a 4-6 mile hike and I wanted to break in my new winter hiking boots. They were supposed to be lighter and warmer than my Sorrels, but I was skeptical so I wanted to use them on a shorter hike before committing to longer distances.

I arrived at the Mayflower Gulch trailhead at 5:15am to 14* weather, much better than the -5* weather of last week in the San Juans. I was also pleasantly surprised to find it was right off the road: no off road driving for me today. There was one other vehicle (a Subaru) in the lot, and while the gate was open up to Boston Mine I decided to park my truck at the lower lot and hike in.

The lower lot was icy!!! I put on my microspikes in the truck and gathered my gear. I set out at 5:30am. It was very peaceful hiking at night. Silent. Very silent. No moon, but the stars were magnificent! The only sound was the snow falling off tree branches and onto the trail below. The trail was tightly packed down by other hikers, snowshoers and skiers.

A 4WD vehicle could have made the icy drive, but since this hike was so short it didn’t seem worth the extra mile and a half. I made it to the Boston Mine area before sunrise and put on my snowshoes in the dark. I was lazy so I kept my microspikes on and just put my snowshoes on over them. If I needed to take them off it would be a quick transition and maybe I could keep my gloves on the entire time (saving my fingers from the cold).

Oh, btw, this fence is not the height of a normal fence… it’s probably half the height (so the snow looks deeper than it actually is).

Snowshoes ended up being a great idea, because while the trail was packed down, as soon as I went off trail I started sinking to my knees, even while wearing my snowshoes. I looked for a trail across the gulch, but it looked like I was the first since the last snowfall so I broke my own trail.

The sun was beginning to rise, and Jacque Peak looked beautiful.

The snow was sugary and made snowshoeing difficult. I’d be fine for a few yards, and then plunge up to my waist. This was a serious problem in the willows, but I made it across the gulch and was surprised to exit and stumble upon a cairn! This was an unexpected treat! I found about 4 cairns on the entire route, always unexpected and sometimes on my way back down.

After crossing the gulch I was supposed to follow Mayflower Creek up to Atlantic’s west ridge, but the snow didn’t look stable and it looked really deep, so I stayed higher up on the hillside. This was great (early elevation gain) but there were times I was seriously worried about avalanche danger. It wouldn’t have been an intense avalanche, but I could see signs I should take an alternate route back once it warmed up. So I was slow in traversing the slope, but careful and ultimately safe.

Here’s the route I took

My next task was to hike Atlantic’s lower west ridge. This ended up being more difficult than anticipated: the snow here was very consolidated, unlike the sugary snow on the slopes and gullies. My snowshoes weren’t going to cut it. I took off one snowshoe and tried it with my microspikes. They became ice skates. Hmph. Ok, I was going to need to get creative. I put back on my snowshoes and got out my ice axe. This wouldn’t have been a problem with two ice axes or two ice picks and crampons, but I only had one ice axe and I hadn’t brought my crampons (I thought it was still too early). So I used my ice axe to drill a hole big enough for my left hand and then struck the snow with the axe and my right hand for support and lifted myself up. My snowshoes used the holds I’d made for my hands. This worked very well and I was able to gain the ridge in no time at all. (Note to self: It’s time for crampons).

Here’s a look back on the route

From here I was just supposed to follow the trail to the summit, but there wasn’t a trail, and in fact, at about 12,700’ I encountered some of the most difficult terrain of this hike.

This is where I wanted to turn back. I seriously considered it. The snow was intermittent and what snow there was was sugary and covering loose talus, so I couldn’t get a good grip on it in my snowshoes. I took them off again to try it with just spikes and it was even worse! My microspikes were of no use: I really needed the stability/flotation of snowshoes. Even though they weren’t perfect, they were a big help. This area took me much longer to navigate than it should have, but I didn’t quit and I didn’t turn back. I gained this ridge and was met with this:

Wow. That ridge didn’t look too difficult in normal conditions, but I could already see this would be a challenge due to the unpredictable snow. Maybe not a challenge for seasoned snow summiters, but I’m still new to this. There was snow, lots of cornices beginning to form, and a narrow ridge to navigate. I forged on ahead.

Luckily a mountain goat had been here last night and gave me some tracks to consider. There were times I didn’t feel safe following it’s tracks, but they did give me a good general direction to follow, which was directly on top on the ridge.

I’d reach one summit and find another, which was frustrating, but I knew everything I encountered was within my abilities and even a bit challenging. I came across a few sections that would have been class 2 if there hadn’t been snow, but with the snow (and instability of said snow) I decided it was safer just to go straight over the ridge. This turned the hike into a class 3 climb, and with snowshoes made me a bit clumsy (but safer than without).

This was one of those learning opportunities where I was scared at times but knew I could do it so I kept pushing forward, even though there were many times I wanted to quit and come back in the summer.

Here’s the route I took:

The trek wasn’t long, and I wasn’t tired when I reached the summit, but I was cold. Luckily my phone and camera were working, although my phone cut out halfway though the first video and I had to take another one and then it shut down. I plugged it into my portable charger and took pictures with my DSLR. I summited at 9am.

VIDEO:

While it was cold it wasn’t windy, so the cold was bearable. I stayed on the summit much longer than I normally do, taking pictures and marveling at the beauty of the mountains with snow.

I considered traversing Pacific Peak as well, but didn’t think I’d be able to do it successfully with my time constraints. The class 3 route looks doable now though, so I may be back in the next few weeks.

Here’s a look back at the route

The trek back was easier than the hike in because I just followed my tracks (and didn’t look down). Looking down would have caused unnecessary anxiety.

Those ridges were something else!

Of course I took a shadowselfie

I decided to follow the creek down because that was what I was supposed to do and I was seriously worried about avalanche danger on the route I’d taken up the mountain. I’m still learning about avalanches, but know some of the initial signs and what I was seeing wasn’t making me comfortable. So I took the creek, but this proved difficult as well, as out of nowhere I’d sink up to mu chest in soft snow and then have to work myself out. This happened many times and was frustrating, but I still felt safer than on the slope above.

Just before hitting Mayflower gulch my toes started to hurt: the new snow boots were fine, but the snowshoes and boots combination was cutting off circulation in my toes and trekking downhill was beginning to hurt. This hadn’t happened in my previous boots, and is something I need to consider.

Also, I lost my phone. It fell out of my pocket and I had to retrace my steps ¼ of a mile uphill to find it. That wasn’t fun. I found it buried in snow (but attached to my bright orange solar charger). I picked it up and trudged back down the hill and across Mayflower Gulch to Boston Mine.

It was a beautiful day! And warm! I took off my gloves but had to put them back on again once I made it back to the trail (and shade). Have I mentioned I love my new gloves!

My new winter books are ok, but despite my double tying them and folding them under my laces they still came undone while hiking, which isn’t an option for me since I can’t tie them wearing mittens. I may try safety pinning them next time.

I made it back to the trailhead at noon and looked at my STRAVA map. Hmph! This wasn’t right: It showed my trek to the summit, but it seems it stopped working there and picked up again where I found my phone in the snow after losing it (please don’t attempt to take that straight line: it’s not safe!!!). So while the elevation gain is most likely correct, the trek down and mileage definitely are not. My iPhone told me I’d hiked 6.8 miles, so I’m going with that for mileage. The hike was 5.5 hours.

Here’s my Relive map (which is also false since it did that straight line thing from the summit to where I lost my phone).

https://www.relive.cc/view/1968357714

Mt Oklahoma – 13,843

RT Length: 8 miles

Elevation Gain: 3450’

I made several spreadsheets this week outlining possible hikes, and finally settled on Mt Oklahoma. Imagine my surprise when I checked the weather forecast one more time at 2am and it switched from 15mph winds to 45mph winds! I considered changing my peak at the last minute, and then looked at the direction of the wind. I should be ok….

Speaking of OK, when I was about 8 or 9 years old I understood the joke for the first time that “Oklahoma is OK”. I thought this was hilarious, even though my friends didn’t ‘get it’. I told it over and over again and got blank stares. Maybe I just wasn’t telling it right? But I digress…

I arrived at the trailhead around 5:30am, surprised the 4WD road was clear of snow all the way to the upper trailhead, despite snow in the forecast for last night. Conditions of the road in are the same as the last time I was here (https://wildwandererlmc.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/55-mt-massive-14421/).

There were no other vehicles in the parking lot. I gathered my gear (whoops! I forgot my goggles, oh well, my sunglasses would have to do) and started just before 6am. I followed the Mt Massive/Halfmoon Lakes trail to the trail junction in the dark, but by the light of the full moon. The trail had pockets of snow, but no traction was needed.

The moon gave off enough light so I didn’t need my flashlight, but not enough light to get a good picture of the mountains in all their snow capped glory. They were beautiful, and I stopped several times to try and photograph them (none of which turned out). I was wasting serious time trying to get a picture I’d never be able to capture, so I put my camera(s) away and kept going.

From the trail junction I continued west, back into the trees

And up and over a very large rock (I’m guessing 50-70 feet long?)

I kept thinking to myself how I wished the elevation gain would start soon. I was over 2 miles into a 4 mile summit, and still no real elevation gain. Those last few miles were going to be a killer! From here I left the North Halfmoon Lakes trail and the route-finding began. The trail was surprisingly free of snow until I passed the second creek crossing.

From here snowshoes would have been helpful, but I didn’t put them on. Route finding through the trees was interesting. At points I could tell there was a trail, or a heavily used path out there somewhere, but most of the time everything was covered under lots of snow.

I had to backtrack once, but was able to find my way to the ridge and after exiting treeline I found a few cairns (not enough to rely on… maybe 5 total in the next 2 miles). At the ridge I continued left

Over this hill and up the drainage

And up some more drainage. This is where I put on my snowshoes. The snow is deceptively deep in some areas here (it is a drainage after all) and bare in other places. The snowshoes were worth it for the times I sank to my waist.

At the top of this drainage was a small basin

I found 2 cairns here, indicating the way I should take up the slope.

This is where the hike became challenging. That slope is much steeper than it looks, and just when you reach the top, there’s another slope just as long to navigate. I kept on my snowshoes until the snow stopped, and then put them in my pack and hiked up to the ridge. Hiking was much easier with the snowshoes! I’ll take snow over scree any day.

When I reached the ridge I was surprised to see more snow. A lot of it! But it didn’t look that deep, so I put on my microspikes and started forward.

That lasted about 30 feet. There was no way this was going to work. I needed snowshoes. And goggles (that wind!). I stopped to put them on, realized I’d left my goggles in my truck (drat!) and looked at the task before me. I had less than an hour to make it to the top before my turn around time. My legs were burning, and it was slow going, but I knew I could do this. I trudged on. There isn’t an exact route to the top, just keep aiming for the highest point. I chose to go left instead of straight because the snow looked deeper and less stable directly in front of me.

Once again, it’s steeper than it looks and I had to stop every 50 feet or so just to catch my breath. My ice axe proved useful several times. The wind was picking up and I was getting cold. Those 2 miles without elevation gain were catching up on me!

I summited at 9:25am (my turnaround time was 9:30am)

18 Mt Oklahoma 13845

VIDEO:

The summit is mostly flat, with a small cropping of rocks near the Mt Massive side.

Here’s a view to the south

This is the way I came up

I turned and looked to the left of Massive, and there was the weather I’d been worried about. 45mph winds turning fresh snow into ice clouds, headed towards me. It was time to book it off this summit before those clouds reached me.

But first, a shadow selfie

I backtracked the way I’d hiked in, following my tracks

The snow was soft, perfect for skiing. I didn’t have any skis, but I had fun gliding in strides in my snowshoes. I quickly made it back to the scree slope where the snow ended for about 200’ and the scree reigned.

I decided against taking off my snowshoes for this part. Snowshoes actually provide the same stability on scree as they do on snow. Plus I was too lazy to take them off just to put them back on again. (If your snowshoes are aluminum don’t try this. Also, get new snowshoes).

I made it down into the basin and stopped for a bit to reapply sunscreen and take off my gloves (I had on multiple pairs). This was also the last time I saw my hat. Since I had on a balaclava too I didn’t notice when it went missing. I’m not sure if I lost it here or in the trees, but if you find it please bring it down and donate it to a worthy organization (I knit about 300 a year and give them to low income elementary schools and teen homeless shelters in Colorado). This was the only time I wore it, and after washing it I’d planned on adding it to the donation pile.

I continued following my tracks back down to treeline and back to the North Halfmoon Lakes trail. After the second stream crossing the snow virtually stopped, and when I hit the junction it was gone all except for when I was in the trees

I made it back to my truck at 11:50am, 10 minutes before my 12pm target time, making this an 8 mile hike/climb/snowshoe adventure in about 6 hours.

I didn’t see a single person the entire day, which I consider a win! There was a Tacoma in the parking lot when I left, and I did see at least 2 if not 4 sets of tracks on the trail going up to Mt Massive as I was heading down.

Here’s my relive video:

https://www.relive.cc/view/1928750207

Note to self: it’s time to keep goggles in gear bag.

Mt Ouray – 13,979

East Ridge

RT Length: 9.3 miles

Elevation Gain: 4300’

Every year for Labor Day we camp with a group at O’Haver Lake. Our campsite comes with a great view of centennial Mt. Ouray. For the past few years I’ve intended on hiking the mountain during our stay, but weather and a flat tire have interrupted my plans. This weekend however I was intent on making Mt Ouray mine. After sitting around the campfire for hours discussing life with my kids, I set my alarm and was actually sleeping in the tent before 10pm.

My alarm never went off. I woke to one of my cats gently pawing at my face (yes, we camp with our cats) and when I opened my eyes I could tell it was beginning to get light outside. Oh no! I’d planned on waking up at 4am. I looked at my phone: 6:04am. I was a bit worried because it was supposed to snow later today, so if I wanted to summit before the snow I’d have to get a move on. After a bit of fumbling with the zipper of the tent with cold fingers (we have to knot up the strings to the tent doors so our polydactyl cats don’t open the tent and escape during the night) I was in my truck by 6:07am. I guess I was foregoing the coffee and actually brushing my hair. Luckily the trailhead was less than 3 miles away: If I hurried I could still get in the hike.

I took Marshall Pass to the Grays Creek Trailhead. Marshall Pass (County Road 200) is a well maintained 2WD dirt road. The trailhead has room for 4 vehicles, but you can also park alongside the road. There is a ton of dispersed camping in the area.

After gathering my gear I started at 6:30am, two hours later than I’d originally planned. The sky was clear so I wasn’t too worried about the weather at this point. I did want to be back to my campsite by noon however to wake up my kids (all teenagers, so yes, they’ll still be sleeping): We had sailing to do today!

The trail begins lined with aspen and pine trees, gently heading west, crossing Grays Creek several times. Immediately I ran into an issue: my camera wasn’t working properly. Not having a functioning camera was a serious problem for me, so I fumbled with it for a good 20 minutes trying to get it to work (it wasn’t focusing… I think I just need a new lens). In the end I kind of gave up. Oh well, I guess I was just going to get fuzzy pictures today.

The trail was very easy to follow until I exited the trees and made it to a small boulder field

At this point the trail ends but you just continue up the drainage to the left (head west)

At the top of the drainage I was met with a great view of Mt Ouray’s peak, with small aspens below changing color at treeline. I was thrilled at this point because my camera decided to start working again!

There is still no trail, but your goal is to gain the saddle to the left. Here’s the route I took

This area is much steeper than it looks, filled with rocks and when lucky a grassy slope with rocks thrown in. It was very slow going due to the elevation gain (about 2000’ in a mile) and because I was sore from hikes I’d taken earlier this week. Here’s a picture from the saddle looking back down on the route I took

I just kept aiming for the first hump in the ridge. When I was almost there I was greeted with a solid trail that led me another mile to the summit

This trail switchbacks up the ridge and then around the southwest side of the mountain (which wouldn’t have been my first choice: I’d wanted to just go up and over and follow the ridge). Once you make it over the first hump you’ll notice several more smaller bumps in the ridge to navigate. Here’s your final view of Mt Ouray

You could tell this area used to be heavily used, even if it gets little traffic now (the trail is now overgrown with tundra in many places). There are several rock wind shelters built at various points on or near the summit.

There is also a 10×15 foot cleared area that looked like it was built specifically to set up a tent and spend the night on the summit. Very cool! I may just be back to do this one day.

Here’s my summit photo

13 Mt Ouray 13971

And video:

Here’s a look back on the route I took to the summit (and my campsite circled below)

The hike down was much easier than the hike up. I could see snow clouds in the distance, but the weather held off until much later that day. I made it back to the bristlecone pine area and followed the drainage back down through treeline and Gray’s Creek to the trailhead.

I was surprised at the size of the rose hips along the way.

I made it back to my truck at noon, after stopping and talking with a few women hikers about the joys of hiking 14ers (they’d just moved here from Illinois and wanted to attempt one soon). I met them about a quarter mile from the trailhead, and they were the only other people I’d seen all day. That made this a 9.3 mile hike with 4300’ in elevation gain in 5.5 hours (with lots of time thrown in for a camera fix and a chat with hikers). Here’s my route on a topo map

I made it back to the campsite at 12:30pm and woke up my kids. My son wanted to try out the sailboat he’d made out of our canoe (it worked great!)

And later that night we all enjoyed the campfire while it snowed on the peak. IMO, every cat should get to go camping…

Next year I plan on hiking the (shorter) west ridge. I was going to do so the following day but the snow on the peak didn’t look appealing this early in the season. That and I wanted to sleep in…

Centennial #58 Mt Edwards – 13,860, Mt McClellan – 13,594 & Argentine Peak 13,743

RT Length: 9.6 miles

Elevation Gain: 3313’

This is another busy weekend where I needed to be home by noon, so I was up at 1am and made it to the trailhead at 4:30am. I didn’t do much research on the trailhead in, and was surprised to find it was a little more 4WD than I’d anticipated. I’d forgotten about the mug of coffee I had in my cup holder, and after the first few yards of driving on Leavenworth Creek Road what was left in my coffee cup was all over the front seat of my truck. The road had a few 3 point turns and several small streams and large puddles to cross. High clearance and 4WD are a must.

2 Road In

Here’s a video for those interested:

There weren’t any signs anywhere on this trail (except the continental divide one at the end), not even at the trailhead. No one else was at the trailhead when I arrived and I wondered if I was in the right spot? I parked my truck and got out my flashlight to try and find where the trail actually began. I had my GPS, so I tried to use it to find the start of the trail. I was aware of the general direction I needed to follow.

I made several failed attempts down paths that looked correct but weren’t. They all led me down animal trails that ended in creeks and willows. See this path here with the tree across it, which usually indicates it’s a closed trail? Well, that’s exactly what it was: closed and not the trail I was looking for. However, in the dark I couldn’t find a solid trail, so I took it, walked in circles trying to find a path, and ended up back at my truck.

After quite a bit of frustration I realized there was actually a road I was supposed to follow. I felt dumb for missing it, but in the dark I’d had no idea it was there. So you don’t miss it and spend 20 minutes trying to find the correct start to this trail, here’s what you need to look for:

Ok, now I was on the correct trail and it was almost 5am. After walking for about 1/10^th of a mile I came to a small stream. Here I left the road and turned right.

From this point on there was no solid trail. In the daylight you just head towards the mountain and try to find a path clear, but in the dark I struggled to find a path clear of willows. It seemed every time I tried to head towards the mountain I got stuck in willows with no trail. They were taller than I was and when I tried to see over them with my flashlight they seemed to never end. I had to keep going right, away from the mountain, but eventually I was able to curve back around to the left (and center of the basin). My advice if you’re hiking this in the dark: Stay to the right of the creek, and follow the line of willows to the right until they allow you to go left. Here’s what it looks like in the daylight (second picture is looking back down the basin)

After skirting the willows you’ll find segments of a very, very old 4WD trail. Woohoo! The only problem with this trail is it has willows too: right in the middle of the path. This was confusing and frustrating at night as well, but no problem in the light of day. Just keep aiming towards the west and middle of the basin and you’ll be fine.

At the end of the basin your goal is to hike up towards the saddle of Mt Edwards and Mt McClellan. There is no established route to do this, but I’m assuming most people head straight up the gully. I started to, but I wanted to summit Mt McClellan first, and when I looked to the right I could tell the terrain had no trail either but was easily hiked. So I aimed up and right instead of towards the saddle.

When I reached the first bump in the ridge I turned right again and followed the ridge to the summit. I summited at 6am. The summit was very long and had great views of Grays and Torreys.

I took a summit photo to prove I’d summited (McClellan is an unranked 13er)

12 UR Mt McClellan 13587

And a video as I was hiking to the top:

I looked over to Grays and Torreys and saw a trail of headlights coming up the road, as well as a steady stream of people already on the trail. I was so glad I was on a 13er with no crowds! I hadn’t seen anyone all morning.

I turned and faced Mt Edwards. That was my next target.

I followed the ridgeline back to the saddle, noting the drop off to the right

From the saddle I turned back towards McClellan to watch the sunrise

And then took a picture looking down the basin I’d just come up

From the summit of Mt McClellan to the summit of Mt Edwards took me half an hour to hike. I made it to the top of Mt Edwards at 6:30am

18 58 Mt Edwards 13850

VIDEO:

The reason I’d summited Mt McClellan first and then headed over to Mt Edwards (which is the reverse way most people summit the two together) was because if I had enough time I’d wanted to summit a nearby bicentennial (Argentine Peak) as well. Since it was only 6:30am I had plenty of time to head over to Argentine before trekking back down to my truck: Argentine was about a mile and a half away.

I turned and headed southeast down the ridge. The ridge follows the Continental Divide, has a faint trail at times, and a cairn every hundred yards or so. It’s an easy ridge to follow.

I saw a few skittish mountain goats. They ran down the slope when I was about 20 yards away from them.

About halfway to Argentine Peak I came to a saddle that was crossed by Argentine Pass (a 4WD road). From here I continued to follow the ridge. On the way up I decided to skip summiting point 13,449 because it didn’t seem necessary (but I climbed up and over it on the way back)

When I made it just below Point 13,449 I aimed for where the rocks end and skirted the mountain to the left.

I also took a shadow selfie because I do that kind of thing

The trail became a bit rocky going around the point, but it never exceeded class 2. The final trek to the summit was an easy hike up a steady slope.

It was still cold, and there was a bit of frost on the ground

I summited at 7:45am

26 104 Argentine Peak 13587

VIDEO:

There was a continental divide sign on the summit

27 Continental Divide

At this point I was in a hurry to get back to my truck by 9am to make it home by noon, so I turned and looked back at the route. I could hike back to the saddle and take Argentine Pass back down to my truck. That would be the quicker route, but that would also mean I wouldn’t get pictures of the trail I’d taken in. If I hiked fast I could most likely make it the 4 miles back in just over an hour. It only had about 400’ of elevation gain. I decided to go for it. Instead of aiming for the pass I followed the ridge back to Mt Edwards.

When I got to just before the final pitch for Mt Edwards I turned east and started down the slope. Here’s a picture of where I started back down to the basin (you’re looking at the Mt Edwards/Mt McClellan saddle). Check out the scree heart on Mt Edwards…

From here there was about 200’ of scree to get through before it turned to grass.

I stuck to the slope and aimed toward the gully in the middle of the mountains.

Here’s the route I took down

In the light of day the route back to my truck was clearly visible around the willows. I was even able to see faint trails and aim for them.

I made it back to my truck at 9am, making this a 9.6 mile hike in just over 4 hours with 3 new 13er summits and 3313’ in elevation gain. There still weren’t any other vehicles in the parking area.

Here’s the route I took.

The best part? I didn’t see another person all day until I was driving back down the Leavenworth Creek Road. At that point I passed 1 person in a truck and 3 Forest Service jeeps, all heading up the road. We had to get creative to pass each other, but everyone was nice and we worked together to do so.