Ice Lakes – Wild Wanderer

US Grant Peak – 13,778

RT Length: 9.5 miles

EG: 4084’

Parked at the Molas Pass Trailhead, I woke up very well rested but with a bloody nose. The stars were out and it was dark outside, but my nose runs a lot while I hike so I know what a runny nose feels like. This was blood, and I reached for a bandana. I slid my arms out of my sleeping bag and gasped at the cold and wondered to myself why my alarm hadn’t gone off? I knew I’d overslept, but wasn’t sure by how much? I fumbled for my phone, which was indeed flashing “Alarm! Alarm! Alarm!” but not making any noise. Apparently it was going off but because of the cold it wasn’t functioning properly. Note to self: get an alarm clock that doesn’t run on your phone. The display said it was 5:26am. Drat! I’d set the alarm for midnight, and now it was much too late to begin either of the hikes I’d had planned for the day (although the 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep had been pleasant).

As I was applying pressure to my nose I considered my options. Due to the time I couldn’t hike into the Vestal Basin, but I was close to the South Mineral Campground where I’d hiked yesterday, and the conditions there had looked favorable. The only downside? I didn’t have any beta with me on any of those peaks. I decided to drive to an area where I had cell service and pull up my email. I wasn’t sure, but maybe I’d emailed some beta to myself a few weeks ago from peaks in the area?

Did I mention it was cold? I turned on my truck and the temperature read 19 degrees. Oh, and that frost is INSIDE the window.

A few miles down the road I had 2 bars of service and found a pullout to park. I was there for about 20 minutes searching through my emails for information on a hike I could do today. Not one vehicle passed me while I was there.

I was in luck! I had started some notes on US Grant Peak. I hadn’t finished them completely (I’d wanted to do this peak with Pilot Knob and “V4” and possibly “V2”) but I had enough beta to go on. It was 50/50 on whether the path would be clear enough from snow to summit, but I figured just the hike to Ice Lake would be worth the effort. I took screenshots of my emails and drove back to the South Mineral Campground, parking in the same spot I did yesterday.

I took my time getting ready (it was colder here than it had been at Molas) and started on the trail at 6:30am. I signed the trail register and was on my way.

The trail begins at the west end of the parking area

And starts by switchbacking up the hillside. There were more switchbacks than I thought were necessary, and lots of signs asking people not to cut the switchbacks. What these trail designers may not realize is animals can’t read signs, and I’m sure the trails are being cut by deer, coyotes, etc. that would rather take the faster route. If you don’t want people to cut switchbacks you need to design a more efficient trail. Also, THANK YOU to all of our hardworking trail builders and maintainers out there! You rock!

There was also a lot of avy debris that had been nicely cleared

After the avy area there’s a waterfall. This is where (I believe) the switchback area you can alternately park at links up with the Ice Lakes trail. I went left here.

The trail exits the trees for a bit and then enters them, switchbacking again

Here I encountered ice on the trail. Nothing too difficult on the way up, but slippery on the way back down.

I excited the trees and rounded the corner

The trail is so nice I missed the turnoff and hiked about a quarter mile past it before realizing my mistake. I backtracked and took a picture of the correct route. Turn right here onto the unmarked Island Lake trail

The rest of the trail up to the basin is easy to follow

I had great views of Fuller, Vermillion, and Golden Horn for most of the trek

The trail all the way to Island Lake was well established

I made it to the lake and decided to take a bit of a break. Up until this point it had been slow going. I was curiously more tired than I should have been, considering I’d gotten quite a bit of rest last night. Then it hit me: I hadn’t eaten anything! Adding up my calories yesterday (I’m guessing around 1000 total with the two packets of tuna and spoonful of peanut butter) and apple I’d eaten this morning, I wasn’t fueling properly. I got out a tin of almonds and snacked as I took in the views. Someone had left firewood.

I put on my helmet, gathered my gear, and started out again. Here’s the path I took up to the saddle between V4 and US Grant

There is no clear trail around the lake, but the route was obvious. I was still a little worried snow on route may be a problem, but wouldn’t know for sure until I made it to the saddle, or perhaps even further. This part of the hike is easier than it looked. In my experience, gullies like this are steep and not much fun, but this one was filled with the good kind of scree (like on Red Mountain A) where it’s easy to gain traction. I went straight up the side of the mountain and followed the gully.

About halfway up the gully I spotted something moving out of the corner of my eye. I turned and it stopped moving. At first I thought it was a mountain goat because of its size, but then it started walking again and I noticed it had a canine loping gate, similar to a coyote. But it was huge! My next thought was wolf, but I don’t think we have them in the San Juans? Also, 13K seems pretty high for a wolf. Maybe someone had lost a dog? I whistled to it and it turned around, stood, and watched me until I was out of sight, which ended up being about 30 minutes. Any guesses as to what this is?

The final push up the gully to the ridge wasn’t difficult but I was going slow. This part of the hike was very mental for me, and even though I knew I was close I wanted to give up. Stopping and turning back seemed like a great idea, and it got me to thinking: What is it that keeps me going, even when I want to quit? Stubbornness? Probably. I know if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and stop-stopping I’ll eventually make it. Yes, it’s stubbornness, but it’s also something more…

At the saddle I turned right and my spirits dropped a bit. No snow (yay!) but tons of scree and choss. I was going to have to be careful with my footing.

There was a very faint trail here, and a lot of gullies. I noticed in the important areas there were cairns (probably 5 total). If you see a cairn, use it because it’s helpful: heading up or down the wrong gully would prove nasty here.

I came to an easy class 2 gully (it looks worse than it is)

This is where the fun begins. There isn’t much left to the rest of the route, and it’s all class 3+.

This is the class 4 crux section. Here is the route I took up the class 4 section and over the class 3 airy ledge (it felt worse to me than the airy ledge on Jagged).

The class 4 section was easier to me than I’d heard. I stepped on a medium sized rock and easily pulled myself up. There were plenty of hand and footholds, and I found the climb was just over twice my body length, so no more than 10-15 feet. Here’s the path I took (both up and down)

Here’s another look up from the step

Once on the ledge I went right (the only way I could go) and carefully traversed the ledge. There was definitely some exposure here.

Once around the ledge I found myself at a class 3 gully. Woot! No snow! This was the last obstacle on this climb and I was thrilled it was (basically) snow free! This gully had both stable rock and choss, so each move had to be carefully calculated. It’s steeper than it looks, and would not be fun with snow. It looked like you could take the right side straight up, but that was steeper than I felt comfortable climbing, so I kind of zig-zagged up the gully wherever I could find stable rock. Bonus if there was dirt involved.

From the top of this gully it was an easy walk to the summit

I summited at 10:20am

Summit Video:

It was a really nice day so I spent a lot of time on the summit, enjoying the views and congratulating myself for not stopping when I wanted to. This is why I keep going:

This one was tricky, so here’s how I made it back down. First back down the gully

Then across the airy traverse (don’t look down)

And back down the crux.

Once again, it’s important to be aware of the gullies from here. Look before you commit, as there are many game trails that look like trails. They don’t all “go”. Look for the cairns and second guess each route you take, especially on the way back down.

Looking over at “V4” I didn’t feel comfortable attempting it today, mostly because I hadn’t done any research on the route and an obvious one wasn’t visible to me from US Grant’s ridge. It looked like it had too much snow, so I didn’t even attempt it, and instead put on my microspikes, made my way back to the saddle and headed down.

It’s amazing how different the snow can be on two sides of the same mountain. Here’s my route back down to Island Lake. I followed the soft gully back down, paralleling the snow.

I took another break at the lake to reapply sunscreen and take off my microspikes and jacket (it was getting hot!). I heard some voices above me, looked up, and noticed some hikers at the top of the US Grant/”V2” saddle

The trek out was uneventful. I had to be careful because the snow was now icy and I didn’t want to slip (but I didn’t want to put on my spikes either). I came across a family with three young kids (between the ages of 4-9) who were about halfway to Ice Lakes Basin and didn’t look like they were going to make it. Their dog was off leash, barked and charged at me. I’ve never been afraid of a dog in my life, but this one caught me off guard. The oldest child told me not to worry, that the dog was nice and just pretending to be mean. Hmmmm. In any event, I warned the next couple behind them with the off leash pit bull of the off leash charging dog ahead. Seems to me there was potential there for a scuffle.

There were several cars in the parking lot now.

I made it back to my truck at 1pm, making this a 9.5 mile hike with 4084’ of elevation gain in 6.5 hours.

Vermilion Peak – 13,909, Fuller Peak – 13,777, & Golden Horn – 13,789′

RT Length: 13.2 miles

Elevation Gain: 5117’

The weather all over Colorado has been fantastic all month (meaning sunshine like summertime). In fact, Colorado Springs has had more days over 90* this year than it has in over a century. This is pretty surprising for September, and I’ve been doing my best not to waste every opportunity to get outdoors and hike.

Many of Colorado’s 13ers are in the San Juans, which is a good 7 hour drive from my house. The distance makes it difficult for me to make it there on my Friday hiking days (because I usually need to be home by 3pm to pick up my daughter from school). So I promised myself whenever I had 2 days free in a row I’d head down to the San Juans for some hiking, and do my best to hit as many peaks as possible in those 2 days by camping at the trailheads. Earlier this month I hiked Pigeon and Turret in a day, and my plan had been to hike the a few more peaks the next day. That obviously didn’t happen, but I was going to try my plan again of jumping around and trailhead camping two days in a row when I could make it to the San Juans.

The opportunity came faster than I’d anticipated. I found out on a Thursday my entire office (it’s a small office) would be gone Monday and Tuesday the next week, so I’d be working from home. Oh, and Tuesday was my birthday! I looked at the weather forecast (sunny on Monday and 20% chance of rain after noon on Tuesday), and decided right then and there I was making a trip to the San Juans for my birthday. This didn’t give me long to plan my routes, etc. but I was determined to make it happen. Unfortunately there isn’t a lot of recent beta on this area, so I did as much research as I could and told myself I’d just have to wing it.

After tucking my kids in for bed I left my house on Sunday night around 8pm and made it to the trailhead earlier than anticipated (3:30am). The dirt road to South Mineral Campground is a 2WD dirt road, well maintained, and at the trailhead has room for about 20-30 vehicles.

Oh, and I’d seen no less than 7 porcupines waddling along the side of the 2WD dirt road in (not all in the same area). Drat: I’d forgotten my moth balls. Oh well, I’d have to cross my fingers this time. The moon was absent but the night sky was filled with millions of stars. I’d arrived early and because I wanted a good look at the basin in the daylight I decided to try and get in an hour nap before starting my hike. I was surprised at how well this worked. I closed my eyes and what seemed like a minute later my alarm rang, indicating it was time to get moving.

The trail starts on the west end of the parking lot. There’s a trail register to sign before heading out (one of the nicest and well kept registers I’ve ever seen at a trailhead). I started at 4:40am.

I took the Ice Lake Basin Approach, which is a very well maintained trail that crosses a small stream and switchbacks west. It looks like there’s been some recent trail overhaul and maintenance in the area, and even a shifting of much of the trail west, with lots of dead trees/branches covering the old trail. I was unable to find the 4WD parking area that’s been suggested as a possibility for shortening the hike in (I’ve also seen beta indicating this 4WD lot has been destroyed with “no parking” signs in the area now).

There were dozens of signs asking hikers not to cut trails.

The trail was easy to follow all the way to the Ice Lakes Basin, gaining in elevation steadily.

I made it to the Ice Lakes basin while the sun was beginning to rise.

Ice Lakes Basin:

Instead of stopping at Ice Lake I took a quick picture from the trail and turned south and hiked to Fuller Lake. I wanted to see the lake and old cabin. Had I realized how blue those lakes were when I first passed them I’d have taken the time to explore more, but in the early morning light they weren’t yet impressive.

There was a trail the entire way to Fuller Lake.

What I wasn’t prepared for were the amazing reflections of the mountains on the water as the sun rose. Pictures do not do this area justice!

Unfortunately, the cabin has been destroyed, most likely by weather.

From here there was no trail for the rest of the hike. I could see Fuller Peak to the southeast, and hiked without a trail through the basin towards the saddle of Fuller and Vermilion.

Along the way I saw an old wheelbarrow. Of course this meant a picture was necessary

Here’s the route I took up to the saddle and over to Fuller Peak and a look back down the basin and the way I hiked in as seen from the saddle.

It’s steeper than it looks, and I was glad I was doing this part of the hike before the sun was too high in the sky. The rocks are semi loose talus. Annoying is what they are…

From the saddle turn left (southeast) and follow the ridge to the summit. It’s an easy class 2 hike with several small false summits.

The only downside was I was hiking directly towards the rising sun. It made seeing anything clearly impossible.

I made it to the summit of Fuller Peak at 8am

18 Fuller Peak 13761

Fuller Peak:

The views were amazing! I looked back at Vermilion and the route I needed to take to the summit. After returning to the Fuller/Vermilion saddle stick to the ridge

Here’s a view of the route from the saddle. Follow the ridge up and to the left

After you go left you’ll encounter a loose dirt gully. Climb the gully to the notch

At the top of the gully you’ll see two towers. Pass them to the left

And climb another gully

The gullies here seem to go down forever! (don’t worry, this isn’t the one I climbed, but one I wouldn’t want to fall down)

From here follow the rocks to the summit

I summited at 8:45am

26 Vermilion Peak 13894

Vermilion:

My next task was Golden Horn. I returned to the Fuller/Vermilion saddle and traversed the area on the northeast side of Vermilion between the cliffs and a scree ledge towards the Vermilion/Golden Horn Saddle. You’ll need to descend lower than you think you will. Follow this route (as seen from Fuller)

The scree & talus ledge is wider than it looks, with some large boulders thrown in. The rocks aren’t loose. Here’s a picture looking back from the Vermilion/Golden Horn Saddle

Here’s a look at the route from the saddle.

It’s a pretty straightforward climb, but about halfway up the ridge is when things get spicy. The scree intensifies and it can be difficult to find good footing. Luckily there’s not much exposure.

There aren’t any cairns but the route is obvious. There are two summits to Golden Horn. The summit register is on the summit to the west. Here’s a picture looking back at Vermilion

I summited at 10:15am

32 Golden Horn 13780

Golden Horn:

The views were amazing! I could see Ice Lake for the first time in the daylight and was immediately impressed: I had to make it down there!

My day had been going pretty good so far. It was still morning and I had the rest of the day ahead of me. The only thing that was troubling was the clouds creeping in. It was supposed to be sunny all day. There were way too many clouds for this forecast to be accurate. I had to keep an eye on the weather. I turned and looked northwest: Pilot Knob.

Hmmmm. It looked tempting. The only reservation I had (besides the weather) was beta. I had great information on Fuller, Vermilion, and Golden Horn, but there just wasn’t a lot of data out there on Pilot Knob. At least not much recent data. While planning this hike I’d been short on time and only planned on the three peaks I’d already summited. I mulled it over: I’d done some preliminary research on Pilot Knob (in fact, I’ve done enough on all the bicentennials to know which questions to ask, when I’d like to summit them, which routes I want to take, etc.). I knew I was supposed to summit Pilot Knob from the south and west face, looking for a chimney that would lead to a scramble to the ridge, and there was a crux I really wanted to get a first hand look at (a crack traverse/climb near the summit). Even though you summit from the south the approach is usually to the north (and I was south).

Trip reports last time I checked were few and far between, with the newest being 3 years old. The best beta was years before that. You were supposed to approach from the north and traverse southwest before summiting from the south/west, and I was on the south. I figured I could probably summit today, so I decided to descend Golden Horn the way I’d come by heading back to the Vermilion/Golden Horn saddle and look for a route over to Pilot Knob.

From the saddle I traversed west to the Golden Horn/Pilot Knob saddle.

The first part (before getting to the saddle) was a fun, difficult class 2 scramble. It was the most intense scrambling of the day so far. If you stick to the ridge you’ll do fine.

Here’s a look from the Golden Horn/Pilot Knob saddle, looking up at Pilot Knob

I kept watching those clouds. They were starting to bug me, blowing in and around with what looked like deep blue, rain filled centers. I made it up the ridge of Pilot Knob, and navigated to the southwest to look for a chimney that would lead me towards the summit. Instead I quickly encountered a very loose and scary talus filled gully.

It was obvious several large rock slides have occurred in the area since the last trip report. Many previous trip reports indicated a “well cairned route”. I didn’t see a single cairn, but there had been so many slides in the area they could have been destroyed by one. OK, back to the loose talus. This was unlike anything I’ve ever seen: I’d step on it and a 5 foot wide avalanche of rock would give way, tumbling down below me and gaining speed and larger boulders as it went. The first time it happened it startled me. Two steps later when it happened again I was seriously scared I was going to fall with it and braced myself: unfortunately there was nothing to grab onto.

I knew there was no way I could safely traverse any further west, but I needed to in order to find that rock wall. OK, so this wasn’t going to happen. Maybe I’d accidentally missed the rock wall I was supposed to climb? I’d just turn back and try again. It took me quite a while to backtrack to where I’d started on the south side of Pilot Knob: I was seriously scared I’d fall in an avalanche of talus with every step, but I made it back and decided to try again, thinking to myself traversing the area would be achievable and much safer in winter/spring with consolidated snow and crampons rather than all this talus/scree.

I just needed to gain the ridge. There had to be more than one way? I spent about an hour and a half trying to climb every area I could, but none of the routes I took went all the way to the top, and these were not class 3 moves as described in previous trip reports. They were class 4+ on loose and crumbling rock. Every time I found what looked like a solid route rocks would flake off both above and below me: Rocks the side of softballs and some the size of microwaves. I’d make it 20 feet up the side of a “wall” only to have to turn back and head back down. Rope wouldn’t have helped because none of the towers were stable enough to support a climber that way. I was glad I was the only one out there today.

I’m stubborn, so I did this fruitless climbing up and down walls for much longer than I should have and took more risks than I’m willing to admit to my mom. I even went over to the east side and tried that way. Nope, there wasn’t a way to gain the ridge from either side, and I couldn’t descend the slope and try to make my way to the north side to summit that way (it cliffed out). I was super frustrated. Hmph. I had to remind myself Pilot Knob wasn’t even on my list of climbs for today so I shouldn’t be too disappointed. But I was. I mean, I had hours left of daylight (it was only noon) and I really wanted this summit.

Wait! I know, I’ll just descend into the basin and re-gain the saddle from the north side, traverse southwest and try it that way! I was positive the right rock wall was on the other side of that talus/avalanche gully I couldn’t traverse. I made my way back to the saddle and looked at the route I wanted to take. Here’s a picture of that route from Golden Horn.

I looked up at the clouds, and it was obvious I was going to have to turn back. There wasn’t enough time to descend into the basin and re-ascend to try and summit. Oh well, I need US Grant too. I’d just combine the two the next time I was out here.

I made it back to the saddle and headed down into the basin. Here’s a look back at the route I took

I felt I was getting pretty good at this descending down a scree slope into a basin thing. As I was hiking down I thought to myself how the area looked like it usually held water. It was made up of tiny flat rocks about the size of a silver dollar but an inch thick. The kind you’d usually see on the bottom of a lake or pond. Hmmm. I guess since it was such a dry year there wasn’t any water. I was walking on a lake/pond bed. And it was squishy. In fact, walking across it felt just like walking over a bog. No sooner had this thought entered my mind than realization hit and it happened: I heard a sucking sound as my left foot sunk into the muck up past my ankle (mind you, I was walking on rocks at the time) and was almost impossible to dislodge my foot.

No. No. No, no, no! I know how to get myself out of a bog/quicksand if I have to, but I really didn’t want to end up covered head to toe in mud (I was camping tonight after all and wouldn’t see a shower anytime soon). So I dislodged my left foot and ran as fast as I could, kicking up my heels as I went, trying to escape the mud that was trying to pull me under with each step. All in all it wasn’t that bad: with the running I only sunk up to my ankles, but I could tell if my foot had rested in any one place I’d have sunk much further as the mud had great suctioning abilities. Then I’d really be stuck. I made it to stable ground and let out a sigh. Crisis averted! My shoes and pants were caked in mud, but that was the worst of it. Here are my footprints looking back

I turned east and was greeted with a daytime view of Ice Lake. Wow! This was beautiful!

As I got closer I could see how truly clear the water was.

Ice Lakes:

This was amazing! I stopped for a while, took a bunch of pictures, and then headed on my way back down the basin where I was greeted with aspens changing color. I’d missed them on the way in when it was dark.

There were tons of people on this trail! I must have passed dozens (and it’s a Monday). It was a long 4 miles back down. I made it back to my truck at 2pm. And it never did rain. Oh well, this gave me time to find my next trailhead in the daylight. I took off my muddy pants, socks, and shoes and put on my sandals for the drive. Near the 550 on the road out I got cell service and stopped by the side of the road for a bit to do some work (emails, etc) and text my kids to let them know I was down the mountain and headed to the next.

Here’s my route with a close-up of my Pilot Knob attempts. Don’t worry, I’ll be back for this one!

My drive took me through Silverton. I’d heard the fall colors weren’t supposed to peak here for another 2 weeks, but right now it looks beautiful.

I had conflicting directions on how to get to the Burns-Gulch trailhead, so I brought both with me. From Silverton I took County Road 2 past Eureka on a 2WD dirt road, and ate the dust from off road vehicles the entire way. For a Monday afternoon it sure was crowded! Leaf peeping season is definitely in full swing!

I made it to the base of the trailhead on the Animas River and my directions ended. So I pulled up a GPX file of the route to see where I needed to be: about 2 miles up a narrow shelf road.

The road was much narrower and steeper than it looks and filled with bowling ball sized rocks. I took it slow: this road was more difficult than I’d anticipated (but nothing my truck couldn’t handle). I just hoped no one would drive towards me from the top: There was no way I could turn this truck around on such a narrow road, and passing another vehicle wouldn’t be easy.

There was a campsite at the 4WD trailhead at 11,720’ and no other vehicle was in sight. Sweet! It looked like I was going to have the site all to myself for the night.

I got to work making dinner: Mountain House Beef Stroganoff. When it was ready I poured myself a glass of wine in the measuring cup I brought for making dinner, sat back, and enjoyed the view.

Life is good! Sitting in the bed of my truck looking at the mountains was so relaxing. As I was sitting there I heard a creek to my right and got up to investigate. This was wonderful! It was about 10 yards from where I’d parked my truck. I enthusiastically washed my hands in the running water. They were gross from today’s adventure and it felt good to have clean hands and fingernails again. I got up to turn around and head back when my left sandal broke. I mean really broke, like duct tape can’t fix it broke. Drat! I was going to have to tiptoe the 10 yards back to my truck without wearing shoes. The first step I took landed my left foot on a thistle. Wonderful. I made it back to my truck, poured myself another glass of wine and spent the next half hour picking splinters out of my foot (mostly on the heel and arch). I looked around at the mountains: Life was still good!

I got out my maps and route info for the next day and tried to identify the peaks around me and the best route to take (I had several options). I studied my chosen route until I felt it was time to get some sleep: it was starting to get cold.

I decided to sleep in the cab of my truck because I fit perfectly across the back seat and because I could. Two shots of whiskey later I was ready to go to sleep. I laid my head on my pillow and a fly landed on my arm. I thought about how much fun having a fly buzzing around me while I was trying to sleep would be and debated whether or not to open the door to let it out. In the end I decided I’d rather not let all the warm air out in doing so, so I made a deal with the fly: “Fred “(I named him Fred)”If you promise not to buzz around me all night I promise not to kill you right now”. Fred flew away to relax on my steering wheel and I fell asleep thinking this wasn’t a bad way to spend my last day of being 37.

To be continued…