purgatory trail – Wild Wanderer

Jagged Mountain – 13,833

RT Length: 46 miles

Elevation Gain: 11,481’

Elapsed Time: 47 hours, 11minutes

50 meter rope was perfect (but tie the ends, because it was close)

I knew the risks going in: The weather didn’t look all that great and my first day in would be from no sleep from the night before, but I’m used to these circumstances and decided to go ahead and attempt Jagged Mountain this weekend.

If I were to do this climb again and I had the time availability I’d stretch it into 4-5 days. Unfortunately, with my work/volunteer/mom schedule I knew I’d never get that much time off in a row, so my plan was to hike up to the base of Jagged Pass the first day, either summit Jagged that night or the next morning, hike back down to the Animas River the next day and camp somewhere between the cutoff to Noname and the base of the Purgatory Trail, and hike out the third day, with the understanding I could change plans as I went (one of the benefits of solo hiking).

I’d spent quite a bit of time going through my gear to make it lighter, and I think I shaved off about 10lbs, making my pack a much more manageable 35lbs (including rope, harness, webbing, etc.)

I drove the 6.5 hours to the Purgatory Trailhead and was on the trail by 2:30am. This is the third time I’ve hiked in from Purgatory, and the third time doing so in the dark. I decided to get some stats from Strava this time.

First Trail Bridge @ 4.3 miles, 2 hours of hiking.
Second Trail Bridge (cutoff to Chicago Basin) @ 9.9 miles, 4 hours 30 min of hiking
Needleton Bridge @ 10.8 miles, 4 hours 50 min of hiking

The Needleton Bridge area has some private property surrounding it, and several social trails to cabins. This is the correct trail to bring you towards Pigeon Creek and Noname Creek. It starts just to the right of the Needleton Bridge.

The path here is easy to follow and brings you to the “campers meadow” / Aspen Grove at the turnoff for the Pigeon Creek approach to Ruby Basin

From here the path was much better than I’d anticipated. There were cairns and a semi-worn footpath to mark the way north through the forest, paralleling the Animas River

Then, for no reason whatsoever (except of course the river below) comes Water Tank Hill. It’s worse than it sounds: 200’ straight up the side of the mountain (and then back down to the river afterwards).

When I got to the top of Water Tank Hill I noticed the water tank was actually on the other side of the River. I decided this would be a great place to take a rest. As I sat down I noticed a Black Bear racing over the tracks and through the yellowish/green grass in the middle right of this photo. I was reaching for my camera when I saw her cub bounding after her. I wasn’t fast enough to get a picture, but thought to myself: Cool! About 10 years ago I’d taken the trail from Durango to Silverton and asked one of the workers how often they saw bears, and he said in the 25 years he’s worked there he’s only seen one. I felt pretty special to get to see this pair this morning. I also asked myself what they were running from?

I sat here for a bit and had breakfast (I decided to force myself to eat this time). Beef Jerky and Almonds for breakfast isn’t all that bad. After a short rest I put back on my gear and headed down Water Tank Hill, which was just as bad as the way up

Back at river-level the trail was once again straightforward. I thought to myself how this trail was much easier than the Pigeon Creek trail (but to be fair I’d done that one twice in the dark both ways, and I was doing this one in the daylight).

I crossed several creeks

And turned right (east) and followed the Noname Creek trail. Once again, the trail was easy to follow (but obviously not maintained)

It follows the Noname Creek. I found a patch of raspberries growing as the crow flies from the raspberry patch on the trail to Ruby Creek, as well as thimbleberries (which always seem to grow alongside raspberries)

The difficulty came when I reached the first avalanche area (I think there are 3 in total, but two of them kind of run together). I’d heard to avoid most of the debris to cross the creek, and so I did so. This ended up being a terrible idea (maybe I crossed at the wrong section?). There were trees piled on top of trees that reached heights well over my head. This made crossing the river a bit dangerous, as the trees weren’t stable and there were huge gaps. Hundreds of trees criss-crossed the creek.

Eventually I had to cross the creek again and there was still avalanche debris to contend with

The above picture is deceptive, as there are still large areas of trees piled on top of each other to cross and no clear path to take. The trees are tumbled together and rotting. I had to secure each step carefully, even if it looked like the log was solid (some would roll). Crossing this area took a long time, and is not something I’d recommend doing in the dark. As I came out of the 2^nd avalanche area I realized what I should have done was stick more to the left (north) and I told myself I’d do that on the way back. I was so excited when I reached a trail again!

About half a mile after I found the trail again I hiked a bit up a hill and found myself at the Jagged Cabin, which was more run down than I’d anticipated. I made it here after 18.2 miles in 10 hours, 42 min. I’m sure the avalanche area slowed me down…

I took off my pack and rested for a bit, going over the next part of the route.

I put back on my pack and headed east through willows and more forest and more uphill. I went left at this junction and came across another small avalanche area that was annoying but not difficult.

I entered another clearing and went left again, up the hill to the basin below Jagged Pass

Here route finding was a bit of a challenge because there were so many trails, but as long as I stayed on a trail and kept the stream to the right of me I was headed in the correct direction

It started raining halfway up this hill, and this is where my troubles began. I’d totally expected it to rain (each day called for rain between 12-5pm). I just hadn’t anticipated how drenched I’d get from just a little rain. You see, I was hiking through overgrown grass and willows

The rain collected on the plants and soaked my pants as I walked through them. I think it’s worth noting everything I was wearing was “waterproof”, including my socks, pants, and jacket(s). Within 15 minutes I was soaking wet. No worries though, because I had a change of clothes in my pack and I could dry off once I reached my campsite. Here’s the rest of the route to the small lake I camped at. There was no trail here and the route I took included some boulder hopping

I made it to my campsite at a pond just below Jagged pass (12,210’) after 21.1 miles and 13 hours 30 minutes of hiking. Note, this is NOT the unnamed lake at 12,522’

Jagged Campsite:

It was about 4:30 in the afternoon. I set up camp quickly, thankful the forecast only called for rain until 5pm. Camp was just a tarp, bivy, and sleeping bag, so setting up didn’t take long. I changed my clothes, laid out my wet pants and socks to dry, ate dinner (more jerky and nuts) and filtered some water. There were flies and mosquitoes, but the flies seemed particularly interested in me. I’d been sweating all day and they were intrigued.

As I was filtering I found an umbrella that had seen better days. I wondered how it got here? In any event, it soon became “useful” (not really) as it started raining again. I quickly packed up the clothes I’d set out to dry and sat under the mangled umbrella, watching the rain.

The rain didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon, so around 5pm I decided to take a nap. I woke up around 7pm to a fantastic view of my campsite in the evening glow.

I was also a little bummed: Had I just missed my opportunity to summit Jagged by taking a nap? There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so the rain couldn’t have lasted too long. Oh well, it had been a long day, so I decided to go back to sleep to prep for tomorrow.

It rained most of the night. On the positive side, I was nice and warm and dry inside my bivy and sleeping bag. I woke up several times: a few because it got stuffy and I couldn’t breathe (but due to the mosquitoes I’d wanted to keep my set up as air tight as possible). Another time it was to rain, and once to a very loud grinding noise coming from below me. It sounded like a rabbit slowly biting through a carrot, and a little like a hand saw slowly cutting through wood. I heard this a few times and figured out it was most likely a marmot burrowing below me, extending its tunnels (or something).

At 5am I woke up to clear skies and sat in my bivy for a full half hour just gazing at the stars. I could make out dozens of constellations, a few satellites, and at least 4 meteors flying through the sky. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of clouds.

Curiously, I thought I saw a flash light up the mountains. The first time I saw it I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. The second I looked around for lightening (sure that was what it had been). No clouds, so it couldn’t have been lightening. The third time I saw it I thought maybe it was someone hiking in the dark and their flashlight was causing it? That didn’t make much sense, and I couldn’t see anyone with a flashlight below, so I ruled that out as well.

I didn’t want to move, not only due to the amazing nighttime view but also because it was a bit chilly; but I needed to get a move on.

I left all my nonessential gear under my tarp, put on my helmet, and even though it was dark I headed in my intended direction. There was a grassy slope to the left (north) of me I took to a rocky area and up and over the pass

I made it about 5 minutes before I had to stop because I couldn’t see anything and it was getting dangerous traversing over the wet, rocky area. I sat in one spot for about 20 minutes, allowing the sun to rise before continuing on. As I sat there I could see what I hadn’t been able to from below: a storm to the west. It had been lightning I’d seen, but luckily the storm seemed to be petering out.

This gully was full of rocks and nasty scree that took careful foot placement but was straightforward

At the top of the gully I turned right (south) and got my first good look at Jagged Mountain

I spent some time planning my route. Here’s the route I took, staying below the areas of snow and just to the right of the gully.

This area is steeper than it looks

Here’s the path to the first crux, just to the right of the gully

I turned to look back on the way I’d come and noticed that storm that looked like it was going away wasn’t. In fact, it was coming right at me! Ugh! It was only around 7am and it wasn’t supposed to rain until noon but yet here was obvious rain headed my way. I was glad I wasn’t in the Vestal Basin right now.

The rain started falling and I got out my poncho, put my back to a rock, and sheltered in place for half an hour, waiting for the rain and graupel to stop. While I sat there I did a lot of thinking. I knew due to this rain the rocks would be wet, so I’d have to be very careful. Also, I needed to set a turn back time, which I set for 12pm. In my mind I was thinking this rain could be a good thing: It wasn’t supposed to rain until noon and it was raining now: maybe this would be it for today? (insert God laughing here).

Once the rain stopped I set to work at the first crux. You’re supposed to go over these grassy slopes, but I wasn’t able to get over the first bit. I wished I’d brought my rock climbing shoes!!! I tried and tried and tried but I just wasn’t tall enough to get myself up and over the first rock: I had no traction with my feet and nothing to hold onto with my hands. There had to be another way?

I went to the right and found another area that looked “easier”. I attempted to gain the slope this way but wasn’t able to pull myself up here either. Ugh! So I went back and tried the slopes again, but it just wasn’t working. I went back to the second area, took off my pack, and was easily able to climb up. This was no good though because I needed my rope to rappel. So I attached a small rope to my pack and tried to haul it up after me: the rope broke. Face palm.

Ok, next idea: I rummaged around in my pack for my knife but was unable to find it? My idea had been to use it kind of like an ice pick for leverage on the grassy slope (since there were no rocks/etc. to grab onto). I was upset I couldn’t find my knife, but I did find my microspikes and decided to put them on. These gave me the traction I needed to pull myself up and onto the slope from below. I then made my way around and finished the first crux. (The dotted line is how I think you’re supposed to get over this area, but I wasn’t tall enough to make it happen).

The climbing became steep. I’m assuming this is the second crux

There weren’t cairns here but I knew I was on the right track because I kept seeing anchors set up. I inspected each one on my way up and they all looked good enough to use on my way down.

I made it to the notch, got my first good view of the sky and turned left. It looked like the weather was going to hold out for me today after all!

Here’s that airy traverse. There’s a lot of exposure here but luckily for me the rocks were dry and it was a short section. I took the solid line, but if I hadn’t been wearing my backpack I could have fit through the hole where the dotted line is (behind the rock is a tight fit with a pack).

I was feeling pretty good about myself at this point as I rounded the corner and saw the chimney. It used to be a class 3 chimney but there had been a rockfall and the top two rocks in the chimney were “new”. I’d heard they weren’t that difficult.

So I decided to just go for it. Indeed, the first part of the chimney was easy. Easy until I came to the place just below those new top two rocks. They were positioned in such a way they were overhanging the rocks below. I tried and tried and tried but I wasn’t able to get around the rocks, so I retreated to the bottom of the chimney and studied the route again.

It looked like the way to get over this area was to balance on the ledge to the left and haul myself over. So I tried again, but that crack was smaller than a pencil and there was no way I was going to be able to balance on it without rock climbing shoes. Drat!

I was getting seriously frustrated and tried several more times from numerous different angles and was unsuccessful. What was really demoralizing was I was so close to the summit! I went back down the chimney (again), took off my pack, and studied the rocks. There had to be a way up and over this area, and I had to bring my rope with me (there was no way I was soloing down the chimney without a rope). I told myself I was going to keep trying over and over again until my turnaround time at noon. I was kicking myself for the second time today for not bringing along my climbing shoes, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

I just needed a little bit of leverage. That’s when I got an idea! I put on my climbing harness, attached my rope to the belay device (because I’d need the rope on the way down but couldn’t carry it up in my hands). I took some webbing and carabineers with me and left everything else (including my camera) at the base of the chimney.

I climbed back up the chimney again and this time when I made it to the rocks at the top I turned around and faced away from the chimney. What I did next I’m sure isn’t kosher, so I’m not going to describe it in detail (but if you’re interested I’ll tell you at a 14er HH). It involved a lot of upper body strength, some webbing, and a move I learned in elementary school when I’d play on the bars at recess. My feet made it up and over the right side of the chimney first and I hauled the rest of my body over, thrilled I’d figured this problem out!!! Here’s the route I took and a look back down from the top of the chimney

There was an anchor set up about 10 feet from the top of the chimney that looked sketchy. I was glad I’d brought my webbing and rope up with me and decided to secure it now before summiting, lifting and pulling the rope hand over hand until I had it all above the chimney. I didn’t need a lot of webbing but I’d been unable to find my knife, so if you get up there and wonder why someone left all that webbing I can assure you it wasn’t on purpose: I just didn’t have anything to cut it with (I did have more webbing in my pack however, so this wasn’t all of it).

I summited Jagged Mountain at 10am

Jagged Summit:

Here are some summit views and a pretty robust anchor set up if you want to rappel the 165 feet down instead of heading back the way you came (that’s a lot of rope!)

Jagged Mountain was by far the most challenging summit I’ve ever attempted. I was very proud of myself for not giving up, even when I seriously wanted to. Now I just had to get back down to my campsite safely. I turned to exit the way I’d come and rappelled back down the chimney, retrieved and recoiled my rope and put back on my gear.

Here’s looking at the traverse back to the notch

I used every anchor station on the way back down, collecting and recoiling my rope after each descent (that’s exhausting!)

I brought a 50 meter rope with me and it was exactly the right length. I rappelled 4 times (including the chimney) and on the last rappel to right above the snow my rope just touched the ground (a great reason to tie a knot in the ends of your rope!).

I was coiling my rope here when I saw the flight for life helicopter heading towards the Animas River. I said a silent prayer for those involved (stay safe adventuring out there friends!), put on my microspikes and headed back to the pass, keeping an eye on the weather.

At the pass I took a selfie just because I could and because, hey, it’s Jagged

Here’s the route to my campsite (note I camped below the unnamed lake: I didn’t see a reason to hike all the way up there?) and the path out through the basin.

I made it back to my campsite around 12:45pm, making this about 6 hours campsite to summit to campsite: that’s a long time for 2 miles round trip! (I blame it on the rain…)

It had been my intention to hike back to my camping area, eat lunch, gather my gear, filter some water, and head back. Mother Nature had other plans. As soon as I made it to my camping area it started to rain, so I turned myself into a tarp burrito and rested for about an hour. When it became apparent the rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon I had some choices to make. I didn’t have any dry clothes but the ones I was wearing because I’d been unable to dry my wet clothes from yesterday. I could:

Stay where I was and wait out the rain and hike back the entire route tomorrow. By doing this I’d be chancing the snow forecasted for tonight and the conditions would be similar to today since the sun wouldn’t have been out to dry the rain
Hike back now in the rain and stop somewhere along the way to camp in wet clothes
Hike all the way to Purgatory in wet clothes (approximately 20 miles)

I knew I’d gotten more sleep last night than I usually get in 2 nights time so I was well rested. I also knew if I tried to sleep in wet clothes I would just shiver all night (and sleeping naked wouldn’t have been any good since I’d need to put on wet clothes in the morning and hike out anyway, so I might as well just hike out now). I have a lot of energy and need to exhaust myself to go to sleep: staying put didn’t mean rest.

Curiously, the umbrella that had been there yesterday was now gone. I’m assuming a marmot took it?

I decided to hike out, so I packed up my gear (found my knife in my sleeping bag: It must’ve fallen out of my pocket last night) and in the beginning tried to use my tarp to shield me from the rain (in case you’re wondering, it didn’t work). I was soaking wet in the first 5 minutes. Everything, including my waterproof pants, socks, jacket, and shoes were sopping wet. I could actually see the water oozing out of the top of my shoes and when I put my arms down I saw water dripping out of my sleeves.

It rained. And rained. And rained. After about 2 hours I screamed (to no one in particular) ‘”STOP RAINING!” It didn’t work and it didn’t really matter: the ground and trees and bushes were going to be wet for days (the forecast called for more rain/snow).

My main concern was getting past the avalanche area while it was still daylight. I stayed north this time and went over some boulders, avoiding trees where I could, which ended up being the better idea. There was still no trail to follow, but I was able to pick up faint game trails at times through the 3-4 foot brush. The difficulty of the avalanche area was compounded by the rain and slick conditions. I was slipping and sliding over tall-grass camouflaged wet rocks and trees; the only consolation being I was doing it now instead of tomorrow (in worse conditions).

In case I didn’t describe it properly last time, the avalanche area is full of enormous trees and branches piled on top of each other in various states of decomposition and some areas are like trap doors: they looked olid but you could fall right through them. My shins and thighs and forearms are covered in bruises. My hiking pants are completely torn up and I’m in the market for a new pair. I kept falling and about halfway through my phone stopped working (I’m guessing because it was waterlogged). I didn’t dare get out my DSLR in these conditions so I mentally resigned myself to losing pictures/my track, which stunk because I really wanted them from this climb!

Thankfully I made it out of the avalanche area and back on the Noname Trail in the daylight, and from there booked it down to the Animas River. I wanted to get as much of this hike done in daylight as possible so I wasn’t taking breaks. I was taking “bend over to get the weight off my shoulders and pump my thighs up and down” breaks though, usually for 5 seconds worth of ujjayi breath before continuing on.

As I hiked I looked for fresh animal racks in the mud and unfortunately didn’t see any. There were brief periods where the rain stopped, but I’d only get about halfway dry out before it started raining again. I didn’t bother being careful crossing the creeks: my feet were already soaked, so a little creek water wouldn’t hurt any.

I made it to about a mile before Water Tank Hill when a man surprised me. He was dressed head to toe in rain camo. “Oh, I didn’t see you” I announced (well, duh) and we talked for a bit. He looked like a hunter but I noticed he had a tripod in his pack and guessed he was a photographer. He had an accent that suggested Eastern Europe. He was soaking wet as well and had no idea how he was going to get dry tonight. When I told him I was hiking back to Purgatory he first said “wow, that’s a long way!” and then asked me if I’d come this way on my way in. We had a laugh over 200 feet of “why am I doing this?” (Water Tank Hill) and then I was on my way.

I made it up Water Tank Hill and decided to take a short break. It was 8pm. I played with my phone again and was finally able to get it to turn off and reboot. Once it was done I was able to open my phone again: yes!!! I hadn’t lost my data and it looked like my tracker was still going. I was still soaking wet and my feet felt like I was hiking in water shoes, but this, this was a major win!

From here it didn’t take long to make it back to Needleton, where I breathed a huge sigh of relief, knowing I still had 11 miles to go but they would all be on a well established trail with no route finding. I just needed to keep going, slow and steady.

I’ve hiked the Animas River Trail several times, and it’s getting easier to know where I am and how much further I have to go, even in the dark. For the first time I didn’t see any campers (most likely due to the weather forecast). I stopped for another break at the base of the Purgatory Trail. Despite not having time to filter water I still had plenty so I didn’t filter any now. I had some peanut butter and was on my way again to hike the last 4.3 miles up to the trailhead.

I’ve done this last part three times: once in the daylight and twice now in the dark. Let me tell you, hiking up Purgatory in the dark is the way to go! The daylight sun in demoralizing. Sure, tonight I was soaked due to the rain, but I wasn’t gulping down water every few seconds to stay hydrated. Also, the first couple of times I hiked this trail I got frustrated due to all the ups and downs in elevation. It’s no fun to gain elevation just to lose it again. So I changed my mindset this time: I was going to have to do the last mile directly up from the river anyway: I might as well enjoy the downhill times while I could.

I made it back to my truck around 1:45am, making this a 46 mile hike with 11,481’ in elevation gain in 47 hours. I took off all my gear, cleaned myself up, and decided to take a nap before heading home. I tried for 30 minutes to fall asleep, couldn’t, and got up and just drove home (too much sleep yesterday?)

There had been a 30-70% chance of rain today from 12-5pm, but it had rained at 7am, 12-5pm, 7pm, 8-10pm, and as I turned my truck on to leave it started pouring again…

Pigeon Peak 13,977 & Turret Peak A 13,837

From Purgatory, Eon Return

RT Length: 39.3 miles

Elevation Gain: 12,275’

I’ve been feeling guilty lately. I was one of the 5 people who actually got to ride the train to Needleton this summer. No one else I know caught a ride, yet many of my friends made the trek into the basin anyway, intent on crushing their adventuring goals. They have stories to tell of adding double digit mileage to an already intense adventure, hiking in from Vallecito, Purgatory, Beartown, and Elk Park.

I didn’t feel like I’d earned my hike in this summer; cheating it by taking the train in a year no one else was able. I felt like this made my 2018 summer of hikes/climbs too easy; like I didn’t get the full Chicago Basin summer of2018 without the train experience. So I promised myself as soon as there was a nice day in the San Juan’s with no chance of rain I was rearranging my schedule and hiking Pigeon and Turret from the Purgatory Trailhead.

My plan was to drive to the trailhead, sleep for a bit and begin hiking at 1am. I was going to take the Purgatory Trail (etc.) to the Ruby Creek Trail, hike/climb Pigeon and Turret, and then hike back to my truck. Next (because I didn’t want to waste the mileage) I planned to drive an hour to another trailhead in the San Juan’s, sleep until 5am and hike 3 more low mileage13ers the next day. I know Pigeon & Turret via Purgatory is a challenging hike, but reports I’ve read placed it at about a 32 mile 10000’ hike (ha! More on this later). I’ve done Pikes Beak via Barr Trail (26+ miles, 7500’ in elevation gain) two days in a row before, and I’ve always been able to do that one in around 7 hours (even both days two days in a row), so I totally thought my Purgatory plan was doable in a day. Insert God laughing here.

The great weather chance came very last minute. I left work, drove home to pick up my daughter from band practice, made dinner, and drove 6.5 hours to the Purgatory Trailhead, arriving at 12:30am August 28^th. I’d originally planned on sleeping for a couple of hours in my truck before starting out, but my target start time had been 1am, so I figured I’d forego the sleep and just hit the trail. I started at 12:30am

It’s a 2WD paved road all the way to the trailhead, with a parking lot that holds about 10 cars comfortably (and several more on the side of the road). There’s a lake and a nice trail that begins to the south and continues east.

The hike down to the Animas River was pleasant, but I couldn’t help but think of how I’d have to hike back up this trail on my way out. It switchbacked down for 4 miles and lost 1000’ in elevation as it wound its way to the Animas River, passing through meadows and hugging the mountainside, even following the Cascade Creek for a bit.

I wish I had pictures of this part of the trail, but I did all this hiking in the dark and figured I’d just take pictures on my way out in the sunlight. I had a flashlight but didn’t need it, as the full moon was lighting my way. I made it to the Animas River, crossed the bridge and the railroad tracks, and started my trek along the Animas River Trail.

This part of the trail hugs the Animas River. Its ups and downs are barely noticeable, unless you’re paying attention to that sort of thing (which I was). I couldn’t help but think how much those elevation losses now were going to hurt on my hike back out. I could hear the rushing of the river, and looked forward to actually seeing it while hiking back out later today.

There are signs at the junction of the Animas River Trail and the Needle Creek approach to the Chicago Basin that state it’s 7 miles from there to the Purgatory Trail. I was skeptical it was only 7 miles.

After some consideration, talking to others who’ve hiked in from Purgatory as well, and consulting the tracker I was using, I’ve come to the conclusion it’s about 7 miles along the Animas River Trail to the base of the Purgatory Trail from this point, plus another 3- 4 miles to the top of the Purgatory trail. Here’s proof from my tracker, stating it’s 9.7 miles from the Purgatory Trailhead to the Needle Creek Approach:

I’ll admit this tracker isn’t always 100% accurate, and tends to overestimate things (but only by a little). However in my estimation 9+ miles is much closer to the actual mileage than 7.

On to the Needleton train stop. I made it to the Needleton stop at 4:45am. This time my tracker said I’d gone 10.6 miles in just over 3 hours.

Not bad. And my tracker was accurate stating it was .9 miles from the Needleton Creek Approach to the Needleton Train Stop, so I think it’s accurate to state it’s 10.6 miles from the Needleton stop to the Purgatory Trailhead. This means if you take the train you’re saving 21.2 RT miles of hiking (or in my case, if you’re not taking the train you’re adding 21.2 miles to your hike).

The next part of the trail is where it gets tricky. There isn’t an established trail or any signs indicating the path you’re to take. I chose to take the Ruby Creek ‘Trail’ as opposed to the Pigeon Creek ‘Trail’ because I’d read the Ruby Creek Trail had some cairns and at times a trail to follow, whereas the (shorter) Pigeon Creek Trail did not. Since I was doing my route finding in the dark I opted for the trail with more indications I was headed in the correct direction.

There’s an area to camp here, where I saw a white horse tied up to a tree. At first I was thinking to myself “Harry Potter and a Unicorn” but after the horse whinnied hi to me I noticed a tent nearby.

I continued along the Animas River Trail for about a mile and turned right, heading up the North Pigeon Creek Trail to the Ruby Creek Trail (neither of which were actual trails). It was dark and I was upset I never saw the Columbine Tree, but figured I’d see it on my hike back out. I hugged the mountains and followed a steep and undefined trail northeast to Ruby Lake. Steep. And undefined. In the dark. Yes, route finding was a challenge, but there were just enough cairns in the right spots to assure me I was on the correct path. As the sun started to rise I got a good look at the path I’d taken thus far

And a good look at the trail ahead of me. Much of the Ruby Creek Trail looked like this. I was glad it was getting light out!

Just before making it to Ruby Lake I saw some bear scat directly on the trail (I was on a trail at this point)

Now I was on bear patrol. The scat didn’t look fresh, but it did indicate a bear had been in the area semi recently. Next I crossed a very thorny raspberry patch (probably why the bear was in the area) and came upon some boulders that led me to Ruby Lake.

The lake was beautiful in the morning light, but there was no good way to get a picture of it because of all the trees. It’s one big lake separated into two in the middle by a log jam.

It doesn’t matter which way you cross the lake, as both sides end up connecting on the upper northeast side of the lake. I chose to take the south route, full of boulders. It’s best to stay low and close to the lake.

If you take the south route you’ll need to cross a small stream after the lake to re-connect with the trail.

I use the term ‘trail’ loosely. I’m not sure if it’s because of underuse this year with the train being closed or if it’s just a poorly defined trail, but this is what it looks like after the lake.

There were some pretty big mushrooms in this area

Stay to the left (northeast) of the creek/waterfall as you climb into the basin. Here’s looking back at the trail from the waterfall area (and the route I took)

Above Ruby Lake:

From the waterfall area here’s the path in front of you

This path includes quite a bit of bushwhacking through high brush, willows, tall grass and flowers. I’m sure there are ticks involved. Once again, the trail isn’t clearly defined but you’ll see cairns every so often indicating you’re on the correct path. The path through the willows looks appropriate for anything about the size of a mountain goat (meaning you’ll get hit in the face with branches but your knees won’t) and in areas without willows the grass/flowers cover the trail. Stay high and to the left. I promise you there is a path the entire way. Also, wear pants (please wear pants hiking people!!!).

Ruby Basin Trail:

Continue on this path until you’re in the center of the basin. Stop here to get a good look and plan the route you want to take (there’s no trail from this point on). Turn to the south, look across the basin and you’ll see the route before you. Head south, cross the creek, and head up the drainage.

This is the path you want to take: aim for the large boulder (it’s freestanding and you can walk around it from either side).

If your goal is just to hike Turret Peak A today head to the left. If Pigeon is your goal go to the right and enter a boulder. This is where your troubles begin. This section is much steeper than it looks, and filled with large boulders and loose scree.

Aim for the saddle you can see behind the boulder field.

Along the way stop and look at the rocks. They’re pretty amazing, many made up of crystals. Scores of them look like the inside of geodes. They kept me busy for quite some time, until I realized I should just take pictures and keep going.

Woohoo! I made it to the 13,100’ Pigeon/Turrret Saddle. I turned around to look at the two summits.

I chose to climb Pigeon first since it was supposed to be the more difficult of the two (it was). I looked southwest and shook my head from side to side: No. That’s not what I’m supposed to do. No way.

But it was. You see, you don’t climb Pigeon from the saddle, you need to be on the other side of the mountain to summit (the west side), but it’s not a direct shot. To summit from this point you have to lose elevation and re-gain it by circumnavigating the south side of Pigeon. I knew this going in, but I’d drastically underestimated the affect it would have on me when I was there. I did not want to lose all that elevation! I also didn’t want to regain it to summit Pigeon only to lose it and regain it again to summit Turret. It was now 11am and I’d been hiking since 12:30am. I was exhausted and honestly I’d expected to already have summited both peaks by this point and be headed back down. I had a serious decision to make: This was going to take a lot longer than I’d anticipated. Did I just want to turn back now?

No. No I did not. I’d come this far, it was a perfect day (not a cloud in the sky) and I was pretty sure I’d regret it if I didn’t keep going, and possibly never come back (the hike in was brutal!). I mentally calculated distance and time and knew my chances of getting back to my truck before dark were pretty much nonexistent now. I took a deep breath and began losing elevation. Several times.

From the saddle look west-southwest and aim for a small notch/gully. You’ll be tempted to stay high, not wanting to lose elevation but trust me, you need to aim for this lower spot. The left picture shows the route looking from above

Once there you’ll continue west/southwest and drop in elevation again. Yep, all the way down to this point (12,400’). The terrain here is perilously loose, and one slip can take you sliding dangerously for a long time. Stay high, aim for the rock wall, and follow it down and around. The higher you stay early on the larger and more stable the rocks are.

Once you round the mountain you’re greeted with 1500’ of elevation to regain. It’s actually harder than it sounds/looks.

Continue west until you’re halfway across the slope. Head right (northeast) to the base of the summit pyramid. Pick your route and stay on the grassy areas as much as possible to avoid the scree. This is a very steep area.

The grass changes to the worst rubble gullies I’ve ever encountered. Scree, sand, rocks, and steep elevation don’t mix. It’s steeper than it looks. I don’t usually sweat while hiking, but today I was. I could feel drops forming and rolling down my sternum. This was a workout!

Just keep aiming here

The terrain eventually changes to large boulders. If your helmet isn’t already on now’s the time to put it on. This rock itself is stable, but it crumbles when you touch it (hence the rubble gullies). It’s very slow going.

I’ve been told this is a class 4 climb, but by aiming for the base of the ramp and following it to the summit I was able to keep it at a class 3. There was still some intense scrambling going on, but nothing class 4.

I (finally) summited at 1:15pm. I’m not standing on the photogenic rock in the middle of the picture because the longest my camera will go on automatic is 10 seconds, and it wasn’t safe for me to make it there in that amount of time. #solohikingproblems

34 Pigeon Peak 13972

VIDEO:

Wow. That had been intense! I’d seriously misjudged today’s hike. I’m pretty sure it took me longer to summit Pigeon Peak than any other peak I’ve attempted. (12 hours, 45 minutes). It wasn’t lost on me I wasn’t even halfway through my day yet. I still needed to descend back into that basin, regain the saddle, and summit Turret Peak A. Did I still want to summit Turret? Honestly I was seriously debating this the entire time I was descending Pigeon, and told myself I’d decide when I reached the saddle. It had already been a very long day and I was very, very tired. Pigeon had kicked my butt!

Here’s the descent route from Pigeon: First do your best to stay on the grassy areas to avoid slipping, and aim here

Locate a “thumb” in the side of the mountain. From here aim for the first gully/saddle to your left, being careful to stay as high as possible to avoid dangerous scree

From the gully/saddle you can see most of the route left. I decided to attempt Turret (not really a surprise). At this point I knew I wasn’t getting back to my truck before midnight and I wasn’t going to get to see the Animas River in the daylight. I wasn’t going to get to see the Columbine tree and I wasn’t going to get any pictures of the Aspens I knew were changing colors. (All reasons to come back I guess?)

I didn’t want to route find at night. I really didn’t, but I’d made the decision to come this far and even though I was exhausted I knew I could do this. I’d made it here route finding at night, hadn’t I? I could do the same route finding back to my truck in the dark.

Instead of re-gaining the Pigeon-Turret saddle I crossed lower, aiming for this large rock.

Once I passed the rock I turned right and followed the scree filled slope to the summit. This scree was just as bad, if not worse than the scree on Pigeon. There were also some large boulders to contend with (but it stayed at a 2+)

I summited at 4pm. Exhausted. I set up my camera but noticed too late I was out of the picture… that’s ok, people would rather see the views anyway. I was too tired to try a second time.

39 Turret Peak A 13835

VIDEO:

The views were incredible! I turned around and looked back on the route I’d taken along the Animas River

And some other peaks in the area…

Wow. A 4pm summit. It was late, and I was now halfway through with my trip. I needed to book it down this mountain and back to my truck. But first I had to wish my friend a happy birthday. I turned on my phone, noticed I had reception, sent her a quick note and one to my kids letting them know I’d summited and turned my phone back off. I thought to myself how it would probably be faster to drive from my house to Purgatory (6.5 hours) than it would be for me to hike there from my current position.

I turned back towards Pigeon Peak and headed down.

The boulders at the beginning of that large rock gully were bigger than I’d remembered. And check out that boulder! It was about 30 feet across. With how loose the rock was here I didn’t feel safe anywhere near it.

I headed back down into the Ruby Basin and had to stop for a second to enjoy the enormity of it all. I hadn’t seen one person all day. I want to come back and camp here

VIDEO:

I crossed the creek and located the “trail” that would take me back to the lake. I was surprised at just how fast the sun was setting. I mean, it just kept getting darker and darker by the minute! It became my goal to make it past the bear scat before I needed to get out my flashlight. I made it (barely), got out my flashlight, and steeled myself for some serious in the dark route-finding. It’s different route finding at night in the dark instead of early morning in the dark because you don’t have the sun coming up to look forward to (or wait something out). For reference, imagine navigating the following terrain, but at night. It really gets tricky when a 150 foot tree falls directly on the trail and you have to navigate around it without one of your senses to help

At least the route in the picture above is an actual route. Most of the trail down lacked a defined trail. It was steep and route finding wasn’t easy. But I reminded myself I’d done this once already today, I could do it again. I just kept hugging the mountainside to the left and kept listening to make sure the Animas River was to my west.

Route finding at night:

I made it back to my truck at 2am. My tracker told me this was as 39.3 mile hike with 12,275’ in elevation gain. I believe it (this is my more accurate one than the one I’d used earlier). It took me 25.5 hours to complete

This was by far the most challenging hike I’ve ever attempted endurance wise. For those of you just wanting a trip report, it stops here. For those of you interested in what happened in those 6 hours it took me to hike from Ruby Lake back to my truck, read on.

I’m not sure when the hallucinations started, but I fully noticed them around 10:30pm and tried to trace them back in time. It must have been around 9pm. I was in the middle of the Ruby Creek trail when I noticed I was running a fever.

Have you ever had a hallucination before? Well, I haven’t (besides those auditory ones near the river on Snowmass, which I experienced again on this trip btw.). Well, I noticed the river singing this time for what it was and wasn’t put off by it, but now I was hearing voices in my head and having visual hallucinations as well. I was about halfway down the Ruby Creek Approach, desperately determined to correctly route find in the dark, when I became more than flushed. I could tell I was running a fever.

I began talking to myself about myself, as if I were someone else (like a doctor talking with a nurse about a patient). What’s weird is I was having a conversation in my head with another person who wasn’t there. Interestingly enough, I was the male in the conversation, talking to a female about the patient (me).

“She’s running a fever. Anything over 102.7 and she needs to evacuate”

“Make sure she keeps drinking and gets plenty of water, but ration it so she doesn’t run out”

“Now is a good time to start trying to talk her out of those other 13ers in the morning”

“You know she’s stubborn and it won’t be easy, start reasoning with her now”

I’d hiked for two more hours before I recognized I’d had this dialogue in my head, or that it was out of the ordinary. What made me think back to this conversation I’d had in my head? It was the third time I said “Hey Bear!” and it ended up not being a bear but a shadow. I paused and took time to look at what I’d thought was a smallish bear rolling on its back and happily sucking its toes. Unlike a real animal it kept doing what it was doing and didn’t run away. I walked closer and it turned into the shadow of a rock. I’d also been seeing red eyes glowing in the dark since it became dark.

I knew the hallucinations were due to low blood sugar and lack of sleep, but I have Raynaud’s and didn’t have a sleeping bag/blanket with me, so stopping to sleep or rest was out of the question. I had food and water but food didn’t sound appetizing. I felt like I’d throw up if I ate anything, but lack of food meant low blood sugar and that combined with strenuous exercise and lack of sleep meant hallucinations (I’d been up since 4am the day before so I was going on 45 hours with no sleep and all I’d had for dinner before hiking was string cheese and two slices of roast beef).

I was saying things to placate myself like:

“Tell her we’ll get the rocks out of her shoe at the next stop. She just needs to focus and keep going to the bridge.”

“When we get to the base of the Purgatory trail she can have another piece of candy”

I made it to the Needleton stop and thought to myself I still had 10 miles to go. OMG, 10 miles! This was insane! It had been dark for hours (I’m guessing it was about 10pm at this point) and I was physically ready to drop. But I kept going. Stopping just wasn’t an option.

I felt like a machine, thinking outside of my body, running on autopilot. I was referring to myself in the third person. Ever the scientist I recognized what was going on and decided to document it in my mind to remember later. I was having both auditory and visual hallucinations (and apparently talking to myself). Not only as I talking to myself, I was talking to myself in third person, treating myself like I said before as a patient instead of as me. It was more than just a “pep talk” to keep going (but it was a pep talk, just from someone else… who was me).

Why was I seeing so many shadows tonight? I hadn’t seen any last night? Why was hiking tonight so different from last night? Then it occurred to me: the full moon wasn’t out yet. Yesterday the full moon had eliminated a lot of the shadows I was seeing tonight in the rays of my flashlight.

The visual ones were the most interesting. Once I realized the bear(s) weren’t real I decided to pay attention to what was going on. I couldn’t make the hallucinations stop, but I could accept them for what they were. They came in many forms, there was only one image at a time, I never knew what they were going to do, and they were all trying to get my attention for one reason or another.

I started using the experience as entertainment, like a tv show to keep me occupied and my mind off the fact I was physically exhausted and it hurt to continue hiking. Here are some of the hallucinations I had:

A woman in a t-shirt trying to get me to notice her t-shirt (dancing around holding up the fabric on her shoulders with her fingers while moving side to side)
A life size version of Yoda climbing a tree
Horses shaking their heads and pawing at the ground
Apes / Sasquatch walking past me (I’m guessing this was because I was seeing my shadow a lot)
Witches with cauldrons
Frogs, snakes, and bugs skittering across the path (they’d been the leaves and sticks on the ground)
Flashing black and yellow freeway signs (I didn’t read them because I was scared to see what they’d say)
Street vendors trying to get me to visit their stores
Every type of animal you can imagine pretending to be a human (a giraffe trying to use an umbrella, a zebra on two legs trying to mow a lawn)

Eventually the visions would all become a shadow/rock/tree/etc. as I passed by. As the night wore on the hallucinations started getting bolder and coming towards me. Knowing they weren’t real but still fearful, I decided to keep my head down and focus on the trail directly below my feet. From the time I crossed the Animas River until I made it back to my truck I refused to lift my head to look at anything ahead because something would lunge at me from out of the dark (not really, but it felt real at the time). The good news was I’d stopped talking to myself in the third person.

The trail up from Purgatory was terrible. It was much longer than I’d remembered, the leaves and small rocks under my feet became large bugs and frogs I tried in vain not to step on, and none of the terrain looked familiar or as I’d remembered it from yesterday. I had to keep checking my map and compass to make sure I was headed in the correct direction (I was).

I needed rest. I needed to eat. I needed to make it back to my truck so I could do both. At this point there was no way I was going to drive to another trailhead and attempt any more 13ers tomorrow (today!).

I made it back to my truck at 2am. All of the vehicles in the parking lot were the same ones that were there when I’d left. I needed to eat. I wasn’t hungry but I told myself I had to eat to replace all the calories I’d burned, so I got out a Mountain House meal and the Jetboil and got to work.

I found a ‘safe’ place to light the Jetboil, which ended up being in the middle of the parking area (small rocks and pebbles were the ground cover). I’m so glad I decided to light the stove in a fire safe area because as soon as the water started boiling and I tried to turn the stove off it wouldn’t turn off: the flame just kept intensifying. Yes, I was operating it correctly and I knew what I was doing. I decided to pour the water into the bag so I wouldn’t pour scalding water on myself as I was trying to put out the flame. You can probably guess what happened next. There’s a reason you’re not supposed to turn a Jetboil sideways/upside down. The flame quickly became 5 times its original size, dancing wildly. I momentarily panicked, blew on it, and the flame went out. Whew! That was a disaster narrowly averted. Advice: Don’t try to operate a camp stove when you’ve been hallucinating.

I put the stove away, ate my dinner, set my alarm for 9:30am and quickly fell asleep in the back of my truck. Two seconds later my alarm went off. It was already bright and quite warm outside. I did a quick head to toe physical assessment of myself: My hair was a mess, my head didn’t hurt, my feet were dry, warm, and operational. I was thinking clearly, and I wasn’t sore (at all, which was weird considering all the activity I’d done). I felt fine to drive, so I jumped into the front seat and was on my way, glad I’d had the sense to fill up the truck with gas the night before.

Normally I get on the treadmill everyday and do 5 miles with 4000’ of elevation gain, unless I’ve hiked more than that. I do this 7 days a week, and have done so for the past 8 years. I’ve been known to hop on the treadmill after easier 14ers like Bierstadt or Evans because I didn’t get enough of a workout in. Today I’ve only hiked 1000’ of elevation gain, but I’ve done 7 miles since midnight, so I’m calling it a draw and not getting on the treadmill today… I don’t even feel guilty!