solo summit – Wild Wanderer

PT 13656

RT Length: 16 miles

Elevation Gain: 4031’

Please note, my stats are off. This summit took some route finding, and additional miles/elevation gain. Your numbers should be lower.

I’ve been going crazy for about a month. It was May 21, while we were getting 2 feet of snow during a spring storm, when I went online to check some summits for an upcoming trip. It was then I noticed I no longer had 200 bicentennials, but 199. I panicked! And of course, did some research. It was then I noticed we now had a new bicentennial, PT 13656. I’d summited what I’d thought were all the Bicentennials last September, and spent the next 7 months writing a book about my journey, which was published May 8^th. I knew my completion date still stood because I’d completed the Bicentennials as listed at the time, but it didn’t feel right marketing my book so soon after the change without completing this peak as well. So I didn’t. Instead, I planned.

I couldn’t find much information about this peak, so I pulled up my previous trip reports from other peaks in the area, and came up with 3 possibilities of summit options from the Upper Huerfano/Lily Lake trailhead, and upper Lily Lake:

1: Take a line in south to the ridge, which looked like it ‘went’ (It didn’t)

2: Take the gully

3: Summit 13577 and take the ridge to 13656 (I’m glad I didn’t end up needing to do this, as the ridge looked rotten).

I was in Minnesota, hiking its highest point, Eagle Mountain. (Side note: If you’ve ever wanted to experience mosquito swarms of biblical plague proportions, along with questionable foot bridges through swamps teeming with water snakes, this hike is for you!) I was only there because of Charles Mound, the highest point in Illinois. For those of you who know about state high pointing, you know the highest point of Illinois is located on private property, and only open a few days a year. Long story short, I decided to hit this high point instead of PT 13656 because of accessibility issues, but, when I was in Minnesota I checked the weather and did the math, and realized if I drove with a purpose, I’d be able to make it to the Upper Huerfano/Lily Lake trailhead the next day, and could attempt a summit.

I made it to the trailhead at 4:15am, parking a little lower than necessary because I’d heard there were blowdowns across the road. There were, so this was a great idea. I parked at about 10,200’.

I was on the trail at 4:30am, and followed the 4WD road to the Lily Lake Trailhead. Crews have done a great job clearing downed trees, but there were very few places to pass other vehicles, and honestly, there are still a lot of trees to be cleared.

It was about 2.3 miles from where I parked to the trailhead. The parking area as littered with branches, but once the downed trees along the way are cleared, it should be good to go. I signed the trail register, which is in need of more paper, and was on my way.

Did I mention the blowdowns? There were quite a few alone the trail as well. They weren’t difficult to navigate around, just a bit annoying. You can see a few here at the beginning

And here are a few more…

I followed the class 1 (minus the downed trees) trail to the Lily Lake cutoff, and turned right (the path to the left, that goes towards Lindsey, was blocked by a downed tree). This junction was 1.25 miles from the upper trailhead.

I then followed the trail to another junction, .2 miles away, which is where I made my first mistake of the day. The sign showed the Lily Lake trail as going straight, so that’s what I did, I continued hiking straight. But I should have turned off the trail and headed north at this point. You’d think, because I’ve been on this trail, I would have remembered this, but… I didn’t. I ended up hiking along a path that paralleled the Huerfano river for way too long before noticing my mistake. Here’s some advice: If you see yellow surveyors tape and are heading through avalanche debris but you’re on a trail… you’re on the wrong trail. The good news is they parallel each other, so if you head west, you’ll eventually connect with the correct trail. Here’s the junction and the way you should go:

This trail is easy to follow, and will lead you to Lily Lake

Here’s the final push. There is a trail here, it’s just overgrown.

After 4.1 miles of hiking from the upper trailhead I was at Lily Lake, where the trail ended.

Here’s the info you need. This is the route you want to take. Trust me.

Here are some pictures on the way to the upper lake. The rocks aren’t stable, and a lot of them roll, so make sure you watch your step while rock hopping.

Here’s where I made another mistake. I tried to take a route to the left first, by following a dry couloir and what looked like a line filled with tundra/dirt. This was a bad idea. It started out as class 3, then sustained class 4 (for about 300’). I quickly felt out of my depth as it increased to class 5. I had a helmet, but seriously felt I needed a rope. I got to a place where it was decision time, and decided to descend those 300’ and try a different route. I knew I was close to the ridge, but could not justify the exposure and class difficulty. I reminded myself I had 3 potential routes for this peak, and an event I was speaking at tomorrow talking about managing risk and being a positive mentor to Girl Scouts. I did not feel I could continue on and still remain truthful tomorrow, so I backtracked. Climbing down was much more difficult than climbing up: I had to face the mountain and take it one step at a time. This entire side was sketchy. Please don’t use this route, especially since the gully can be kept at 2+. Here are some pictures of the route you SHOULD NOT TAKE

Instead, here’s what you want to do:

Take the gully! It’s slippery due to the scree, but with microspikes, manageable

I aimed for the 13654/13656 saddle. Once again, slippery scree, but manageable

Here’s a view of that line I was trying to take earlier in the day. The red circle is where I retreated. Once again, don’t take this line!!!

I kept working my way towards the saddle

Here’s a view of PT 13656

Once at the saddle I turned and followed the ridge southeast. This was all class 3 scrambling. I was able to stick to the ridge the entire time. Here are some pictures of the ridge

I summited PT 13656 at 10:15am.

I spent a lot of time on that summit, making sure the true summit wasn’t further to the southeast. I pulled up Peakbagger (not yet updated), CalTopo, my Compass (which read 13660) and several other sites. In the end, I determined this was the true peak, and left a summit register.

PT 13656:

The route back was now very straightforward. I worked my back down the ridge towards the saddle

Oh, and the route up to 13654 looks sketchy…

And then scree surfed back to Lily Lake. Once again, this is very loose scree, and I wore microspikes. I consistently had 6 inches of scree sliding beneath me, and as long as I kept up with it, I kept a good pace.

Here’s my route back to the lake

This is where I picked back up with the trail

Following the route back was easy, except for all those blowdowns.

I made it back to my truck at 2:30pm, making this a 16 mile hike with 4031’ of elevation gain and a ton of route finding in 10 hours. I hope this trip report was helpful, and I’m sure you can do this route faster! It felt so good to check this one off the list!!!

On to the next trailhead!

Uncompahgre in Winter – 14,309

RT Length: 16.42 miles

Elevation Gain: 5068’

This was a last-minute decision. I left the house at 10:30pm and made it to the trailhead by 4am, after a rather tricky/slick/whiteout conditions drive over Monarch Pass (note to self: check the weather along the route, not just for the peak you’re climbing). I also had a gas station mishap in Gunnison (long story) so my truck smelled like gasoline when I parked. I was pleasantly surprised to find CR 20 nicely plowed from Lake City. There was 1 other vehicle at the trailhead, and only room for 2.

The other vehicle looked outfitted for sleeping, and there were window coverings on the windows, so I wasn’t sure if there was someone sleeping inside. I tried to be quiet as I hit the trail at 4:30am. This is the lower trailhead, so I followed the 4WD dirt road (now packed with snow) for 4 miles to the upper trailhead.

There was some ice on the trail, but it was mostly an easy road to follow

And here’s a look at the stream crossings. There were snow bridges over the water, and you could hear water flowing under the snow.

I was still hiking in the dark when I saw a flashlight behaving erratically up ahead. As I got closer, I realized it was a skier. My flashlight was acting funky, so I couldn’t see him clearly, which was good, because he told me he was changing his pants (putting on warmer ones). His name was Paul and he sounded like he was in his 20s. He said he’d “see me up there” and I continued on.

From this point it was clear he’d been trenching with his skis, but even so, I didn’t need to put on snowshoes until I made it to treeline. I continued hiking along the road

I made it to the upper trailhead and the bathroom (I didn’t check to see if it was open, but it looked like there were game trails leading up to the door)

This is where the trail got ‘iffy’. There was no longer a trench, but if I strayed from the old trench I’d sink up to my waist in snow. I put on my snowshoes and only postholed every 30 steps or so. Here’s the upper trailhead

From the upper trailhead the trail heads northwest to treeline and then through willows.

Once at the willows I had to gain this small ridge. This was easier to do in the morning than in the afternoon (pics of my glissade route later). Here’s my path

Just as I made it up this ridge the sun began to rise. I had a great view of the sunrise over Uncompahgre

And looking back

There was no trench here, nor any sign of a previous one, so I got to make my own. Here’s my basic path

And step by step. Lots of trenching, but pretty straightforward. Your goal is to gain the ridge.

You’re aiming for this sign on the ridge. There are a lot of these signs in the area, all saying to be careful of vegetation, so make sure you aim for the one obviously on the ridge.

Once on the ridge, I turned right and followed a faint trail northwest. The snow on the switchbacks was a bit sketchy.

I gained the ridge again and traversed a short distance along the backside, looking for a short gully to climb

I took off my snowshoes at the gully and climbed up, carrying them (bad idea)

At the top of the gully I found cairns and a trail that wound back to the east side of the mountain to the summit, so I stashed my snowshoes and kept going.

I walked back and forth all along the summit to make sure I hit the actual summit. The summit is towards the middle… the pictures were better towards the west though. Also, usually when there’s a lot of snow I can see herds of animals, or at least their tracks in the basins below or on the ridges. No tracks today, so they’re all probably below treeline now.

It was a long drive back home, so I turned and retraced my steps

I made my way back to the gully and found my stashed snowshoes. I seriously wished I’d stashed them below the gully, but because I wasn’t sure of the conditions above I’d brought them with me. I carried them gingerly in my left hand as I headed down

At the bottom of the gully I put my snowshoes back on and kept them on for the remainder of the hike. I turned left and followed my tracks back to the ridge.

Once in the ridge I had some switchbacks to go down before following the ridge proper. It had only been about an hour or so, but the tracks I’d made on my way in were already gone, so I got to make new ones.

Once down the switchbacks most of my tracks were still there, so I followed them back down the basin. Side note: From here I could see the skiers tracks, and the skier still in the basin below. He’d chosen a different route to gain the ridge, and seemed to be stopping for lunch. Since he was on skis I expected him to pass me on the way down.

This is where I ran into a little bit of trouble… The skier had gone over my tracks on his way in, and in doing so made them slippery as the sun warmed. They’d turned into ice, and my snowshoes couldn’t grab onto my tracks. The snow was too soft to make new tracks. I tried to retrace my steps down, lost footing on the ice, and glissaded into the willows. The slipping wasn’t calculated, but the glissading was: Once I’d started I quickly assessed the risks and just decided to keep going.

Here’s a look back on that short glissade

And now, to hike out. The trench was still in place, so it was relatively easy. Here are some pics.

I made it back to my truck at 1:30pm, making this a 16.42 mile hike with 5069’ of elevation gain in 9 hours. I never did see the skier. Here’s a topo map of my route

Also, on the way out there’s ice climbing!!!

Humboldt Peak in Winter

RT Length: 14.02 miles

Elevation Gain: 5562’

This was my third time hiking Humboldt, but my first time in calendar winter. The last time I was here there was a terrible wind that was causing the snow to become clouds, and I couldn’t see the summit when I arrived (or my own 2 feet). This time I was here for better pictures of the route, and to count it as an official snowflake. I arrived at the South Colony Lakes lower trailhead and was the only one in the lot when I parked my truck. I put on my gear, using only microspikes as my footwear, and was on the trail at 4:30am. As usual in winter, the snow started just past the 2WD parking area. I always find it amusing to see how far the tire tracks try to go up the road. This time, they didn’t go far.

The snow on the road started right away, but there was a good trench. I followed the road for 2.3 miles to the junction with Rainbow Trail. It was still dark out, and as I rounded the last corner of the trail where I could still ‘see’ the trailhead I noticed there was another car parked there. It seems there would be hikers about a mile behind me today. Also, my flashlight started flickering. Time to change the batteries!

At Rainbow Trail the trench spiked, one side going towards Marble Mountain, the other towards Humboldt Peak’s East Ridge. There weren’t any tracks headed further down the road to South Colony Lakes. I turned right and followed Rainbow Trail for .5 miles.

I quickly came to a bridge, then took the trail to the top of a slope

At the top of the slope I was thrilled to see there was a trench in place leading up the ridge. Last time I did this hike I’d had to trench it myself, and it had taken quite a bit of work. Today, I was going to poach someone else’s trench! Woot!

And what a trench it was! I followed it as it for 2 miles as it ascended the east side of the ridge, all the way to treeline. Here’s an overview of the route up to Humboldt Peak

If you keep heading west and stick to the rib/ridge, it will take you to treeline. I could hear the wind above the trees, and got a bit anxious for the above treeline part of the hike.

As I hit treeline the sun started to rise. I took a few minutes to enjoy the view. (side note: there were a lot of rabbit tracks here)

The trench ended near treeline. I could see where it was supposed to go, so I kind of re-trenched it as best I could wearing just spikes.

Here’s the general overview of my route up the ridge

The wind had been intense all morning, but once I was above treeline it became difficult at times to even stay upright. So much for the forecased 11-17mph winds! I’d started early to avoid the most intense winds that were supposed to start around 11am, but it seems they started a little early. I had to hunker down at times and turn away from the wind, which turned the snowflakes into glass, and was side-stepping as I hiked just to stay in a straight line. I tried to take pictures, but unfortunately, wind is invisible. I kept my gloves on and was glad I’d put on my balaclava at the trailhead. Here are some pictures of the ridge.

Here I noticed some bighorn sheep in the distance. They also noticed me and trotted off.

At the top of the ridge was another ridge, so this had been a false summit. Here’s the actual summit of Humboldt Peak. It’s a straightforward ridge hike to the summit, nothing above class 2.

Here are some pictures of the ridge. There was some snow, but it was all firm enough not to need traction

On this part of the ridge the wind really picked up. I had to hide behind rock structures to get out of the brunt of it, and the noise it made as it came up and over the rocks was creepy. The balls of my feet were frozen at this point (due to Raynaud’s) and it felt like I was walking with large rocks in my shoes (I wasn’t, it was just the ball of my foot that had frozen). Several times I hunkered down to maintain my balance, but it was still a straightforward ridge hike.

I knew I’d made it to the summit when I found the wind breaks. I never saw a summit marker, but I don’t think there’s one here?

I’ve summited Humboldt Peak twice before, so I knew I was at the summit at the first wind break, but I walked further west for better pictures.

I summited Humboldt Peak at 9:45am

Humboldt Peak:

The views of the Crestones/Sange de Cristo range were beautiful!

Time to head back down the ridge

The wind was still fierce, and I was worried I was getting a nasty windburn in all the areas my balaclava didn’t cover. The wind speeds weren’t supposed to be this high, so I’d left my goggles at my truck. Note to self: next time, bring the goggles. On my way back down the ridge I saw the Bighorn Sheep again. They quickly turned when they saw me and headed over the mountainside. There was a big drop on the other side, and I was surprised I couldn’t see them again when I passed.

This was a simple ridge stroll, or, it would have been, without the wind

Here’s looking at my route back down the ridge to treeline

Here I met some hikers heading up. The wind had died down considerably by this point, so I figured they had the better weather of the day (I found out later it picked back up again, and they said their summit was just as windy as mine). My feet started to de-thaw, and I had a minor Raynaud’s attack: think insane pins and needles as the blood started flowing again. It lasted about 30 minutes, and to combat it I just kept hiking. On a positive note, I could feel my toes! Finding my tracks back to the trail was a bit of a challenge, but I came across them eventually.

Then I followed the trench back to Rainbow Trail. I should have put on snowshoes here, as I postholed ever 30 feet or so, but I really didn’t want to stop. I was just glad I’d started early enough in the day not to need snowshoes (spikes worked just fine). Anyone heading back down later than me would need snowshoes.

Once back at the trail I followed it a half mile to South Colony Lakes Road

Once on the road I hiked the 2.3 miles back to the trailhead, noticing a lot of dog tracks along the way. As I neared the trailhead I saw a couple walking with two beautiful dogs. It seems they were out on a day hike, and I thought this was a great idea, as it was a beautiful day below treeline.

Here’s a look at the trailhead on my way back. Easily 2WD accessible.

I made it back to my truck at 1pm, making this a 14.02 mile hike with 5563’ of elevation gain in 8.5 hours.

Unfortunately, when I made it back to my truck I could hear the conversation the couple with the dogs were having. The man kept cussing at his female companion, and the dogs, over simple things like an overturned water bowl. To me there’s no need for vulgar words, and he was using multiple ones in each sentence he uttered. I felt the urge to say something, but no one else in his party seemed to mind his behavior, so I kept it to myself. I’m not sure why women allow themselves to be treated that way?

The Humboldt Peak Summit Sticker can be bought here

Horn Peak – 13,450

RT Length: 9.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 4600’
After binge watching Stranger Things this week I was a little worried about hiking alone for miles in the dark but decided to go for it anyway. It was snowing at the trailhead but I could see stars in the sky so I figured the snow wouldn’t last long. I arrived at the trailhead at 5:15am and was on the trail by 5:30am. The parking lot was empty when I arrived (two other vehicles were there when I got back.

It was apparent after the first 20 feet or so I wasn’t going to be spooked hiking solo in the dark. I’ve done this hundreds of times before and still felt comfortable. In fact, I was a little upset I hadn’t started earlier. From the parking area I walked west to the Rainbow Trail

At the Rainbow Trail I turned right and headed northwest for 8/10 of a mile

The trail here was covered in fallen trees and snow, but was still manageable

I crossed dry creek (yes, it was dry) and continued to just past a meadow,

before turning left onto an unnamed trail that would lead me to the summit of Horn Peak.

Right about now the sun was starting to rise, and I got my only scare of the day: I heard a strange noise coming from behind me to the left and jumped a bit before realizing it was a turkey gobbling. Must have been because day was breaking. I saw some turkey tracks here too

I followed this new trail southwest to a trail register

Signed the register and was on my way. The trail was easy to follow, but kept going up, up, up for about a mile and a half

The snow here was soft, and I could tell I’d need my snowshoes on my return. I got my first view of Horn Peak and saw it had a light dusting of snow

I was able to wear microspikes until I came to the gully that crosses over from one side of the mountain to the other. Here I donned my snowshoes to traverse the small gully. I’m not sure I could have made it without them

Once past the gully the trail conditions kept changing. The trail could be dry, covered in snow, or a mixture of both. I kept my snowshoes on, even when unnecessary.

I made it to the ridge after hiking 3.3 miles

Here I turned left and followed the ridge to treeline.

I saw 5 or 6 ptarmigans and some ptarmigan tracks. The birds were quick to fly away when I startled them, so no pictures of the actual birds. I was surprised the ptarmigans were already brown, figuring they’d still be in their winter whites

There was an old trench I re-trenched to treeline, which was slow going but it was nice not to need to route find.

At treeline I stopped to take off my snowshoes, as I could see they wouldn’t be needed for the rest of the hike to the summit. Here’s the route I took to point 12665

It’s actually much steeper than it looks

Once at point 12665 I turned left and started hiking the rest of the ridge to the summit

About halfway along this ridge I saw some bighorn sheep. I noticed them before they saw me, so I got to see them startle when they saw me. They jumped a bit, and then walked away. Here’s one of the younger ones

Bighorn Sheep

At about this time I started keeping a close eye on the weather. Clouds were forming around 13K. Not big clouds, but it was supposed to snow after 3pm and the clouds seemed to be forming pretty fast. It was neat to be eye level with them

The ridge was full of loose rocks the size of toaster ovens so I was careful with my foot placement

In no time at all I found myself at the summit!

Here I saw the Bighorn Sheep again

The views of the Crestones were absolutely amazing!!!

Here’s my summit photo

Summit Views

I wanted to stay on the summit forever! There was no wind, the weather was perfect, and the views were amazing. It wasn’t lost on me how lucky I was to be here right now. But, watching the clouds forming I realized I should get going, so I turned to head back down the mountain

Here’s the route I took back down the ridge

Point 12665

And the ridge back to treeline

I could see a small grass fire starting in the distance. I think they put it out quickly because I saw a fire engine leaving the site on my way back

Once back below treeline I put on my snowshoes. The snow was indeed soft and progress was slow going as I kept postholing in slush. On the positive side I could follow my previous tracks when there was snow, and the trail when there wasn’t

I kept watching as the sky kept getting darker and darker, and then as little snow flurries began to fall. Hmmmm. It wasn’t yet 1pm and it wasn’t supposed to snow until after 3pm. I was glad I’d left the summit when I did, as it was now covered in snow filled clouds. I made my way back to the trail register and signed myself out. Then headed right (southeast) on the Rainbow Trail

I made it back to my truck at 1:30pm, making this a 9.5 mile hike with 4600’ of elevation gain in 8 hours. Slow going, I know, but that’s a lot of elevation gain for such a short distance!

For those interested, here’s the path I took

Disclaimer: Due to Covid-19 concerns, before attempting this hike I contacted the County Sheriffs department to see if I could hike in the area. In fact, I contacted several different counties, and when they told me their trails/cities were closed I just went on down the line, looking for an open place to hike. I was told by this county the trails and trailheads were open but they weren’t openly endorsing/encouraging people to hike. I was asked to not stop in town for gas/food/etc. and was notified the bathrooms would be locked (as they usually are this time of year) and if I was in need of rescue it would take extra time for SAR to be deployed. I was ok with all of these stipulations and decided to hike. I didn’t see another person all day and was glad I’d made the decision to head to the high country.

Nevada Highpoint Boundary Peak – 13,140

RT Length: 13 miles

Elevation Gain: 5144’

After hiking Mt Whitney I drove my rental vehicle to a Subway, got lunch/dinner, and paid too much for gas

My goal was to drive as close to the Boundary Peak trailhead as I could get in the Toyota Corolla I’d rented. I’d heard a lot of different things about the drivability of this road and since I didn’t have a 4WD or even a vehicle with much clearance (5.2 inches) I was a little worried. About 30 miles from the turnoff my cell phone lost service, and I knew I’d be on my own if I got a flat tire or damaged the vehicle on the 4WD road.

I was pleasantly surprised when I turned off US 6 and this is what I saw

I knew the Queen Canyon Trailhead was about 6 miles from here, and it looked like I’d be taking a well maintained 2WD dirt road for at least the first few miles. The first two miles were flat and relatively easy, and with each passing mile I became more confident and a little more excited to be getting closer to the trailhead.

Around the 3^rd mile the road became one lane and entered the canyon. I was a little skeptical about the road because I couldn’t see what was ahead of me, but I figured if I couldn’t turn around at least I’d be able to back up. Here the willows brushed both sides of the vehicle as I drove past, and the grass growing from the middle of the road made whooshing noises as it hit the underside of the vehicle.

I was beginning to think I’d be able to drive all the way to the trailhead when around mile 4 I came to a roadblock: the road had washed out a little bit and with the low clearance vehicle it became too difficult to navigate. I got out of the car and walked up and looked for a fancy way around that wouldn’t require bottoming out and was unsuccessful. I was a little bummed because this section was so short and the road looked clear if I could just make it past this section about 10 yards long, but I didn’t want to get stuck and I seriously didn’t want to get stuck with paying for damages to the rental vehicle.

So I made a 10 point turn and looked for a spot to park. I was able to find a small pullout (thankfully the vehicle was small) but unfortunately it wasn’t in the shade (there wasn’t any).

I relaxed, ate my sandwich, and pulled out my altimeter: I’d parked at 8220’. I did the math and figured this would add a little over 2000’ to my hike tomorrow and 2 miles each way. I liked those numbers, but they meant I’d only be hiking Boundary Peak and not adding on Montgomery Peak (because I had a plane to catch). I really wanted to get some sleep, but it was 4pm in Nevada in September and 95* outside. I tried to lie down in the back of the Corolla in my sleeping bag but it was just too hot to sleep. Rolling down the windows just invited the flies in, so I tossed and turned for quite a bit. The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was seeing a red Jeep race down from the road above and pass by my vehicle. It was the only other car I saw the entire time I was there.

I woke up at 1:30am and was on the trail before 2am. I started up the 1N146 road, forgot to turn on my tracker, stopped, turned it on, and was on my way. The road was very easy to follow to the trailhead; just stay on it and don’t take any turns. In the dark I passed a mine (I noticed on the way back there was a light on inside and wondered at why I hadn’t seen it on my way in).

This mine is at 9010’ and provides a great place to camp before the road becomes 4WD

After the mine there’s still a mile left to go, and the road indeed becomes 4WD, although you could probably do it in a high-clearance vehicle that isn’t 4WD as well. The Corolla never would have made it.

You can see how easy it is to follow the road to the trailhead

As I was walking along the road something bobbled past me and flew like an awkward cross between a bat and a bird. It landed in the grass in the middle of the road, so as I approached it I aimed my flashlight at it to get a closer look. It looked up at me with a round face and large, yellow eyes. It was a fledgling burrowing owl. “Oh! You’re a baby!” I said to the owl. It hopped twice, jumped about 6 feet in the air, and once again awkwardly and silently glided into the brush on the other side of the road. That had been a fun encounter!

The trail starts at the right (south side) of the saddle around 10,000’.

As I made it here I thought to myself “I should have brought my bivy with me”. It doesn’t weigh that much and it would have been a great idea to have hiked up here last night, slept, and started the trail from here. Oh well, next time I’ll add it to my pack on trips like this because it only weighs 1 pound.

I followed the trail a short distance to a trail register that was lacking a lid, arriving at 3:55am. I signed the register, replaced it in the ziplock bag and was off.

The trail begins with about 1000’ of elevation gain as it heads south and switchbacks easily up the hillside

From the top of the hillside it’s a little disappointing as you then spend the next mile and a half losing 300’ in elevation, aiming for the saddle between Trail Canyon Saddle Peak and Boundary Peak.

Here I started seeing horse manure, and quite a bit of it. Initially I thought how crazy someone must be to take a horse up at this elevation, but then I noticed there was a lot of it off trail as well and figured there must be wild horses in the area.

Once at the saddle there’s a cool wind shelter made out of bristlecone pine and rocks and an obvious trail that goes up the mountain.

This is the path the trail takes. It’s obvious in the daylight, but in the dark there were a lot of social trails and I kept getting off trail, yet stayed pretty much on course

Oh, and the top of this hill is NOT Boundary Peak.

Around this time is when my tooth started hurting again. I took some ibuprofen and thought to myself “well, isn’t this fun?”

Once you reach the top this is the path before you

The trail splits a lot in places, but basically follows the ridge to Boundary Peak. It doesn’t matter which path you follow, they all stay at class 2 or below. This is the path I took

The last little bit to the summit has larger rocks but still stays at class 2

I summited at 6:45am, and the sun still hadn’t risen. My glasses are on to hide the crows feet…

Boundary Peak Summit:

It was very cold at the summit, and since I still didn’t have my new camera I had to keep taking off my gloves to get pictures on my iPhone: my hands were freezing! I took a few pictures and (again) actually signed the summit register. I figured I should eat something so I got out some dried mangoes, took one bite and felt the most intense dental pain I’ve ever felt in my life! Oh no! This was NOT good! Tears came to my eyes and I decided right then and there I was going to see a dentist as soon as I got home.

I sat here for a minute and contemplated watching the sunrise, but it was just too cold (and I figured I’d have a great view of it as I hiked back down). The moon was full and extremely bright, so I got a shadowselfie in the moon-glow

I also took some pictures of Montgomery Peak and the summit I was currently on (I lightened them up a bit so you can see detail)

I headed back down, and within about 10 minutes there was enough light to see the path ahead of me. It was so nice to be able to see an actual trail instead of guess where it was in the dark!

I sneezed and my teeth bumped together in the process. The pain was so intense I stood there for 3 full minutes waiting for it to subside. The sun finally rose at 7:35am (which I thought was late, but maybe that’s normal for Nevada?)

I followed the trail back down the same way I came up

Back down to the saddle and then up to regain those 300’ I’d lost

Regaining the elevation actually wasn’t that bad, but I was also lucky the sun had gone behind the clouds and it wasn’t that warm out. It felt like I was hiking in the shade, and at this point my dental pain was more of an annoying dull ache and I was beginning to think the pain was directly related to elevation.

I came across a few deer near the trail, and as I rounded the last bit of hillside I saw a small herd of horses, grazing in a semi-circle on the hill.

Boundary Peak Horses:

I made noise but they didn’t really seem to care I was there. Once again I wished I had my good camera with me and not just my cell phone: these could have been awesome pictures!

From here it was all downhill back to the trailhead

I signed out of the register and headed back down the road to my vehicle.

I made it back to the car at 9am, making this a 13 mile hike with 5144’ in elevation gain in 7 hours 15 minutes.

Once back at the car I cleaned up and got ready to head out, saying a silent prayer I didn’t do any permanent damage to the vehicle in the next 4 miles. I knew I’d be ok as long as I just drove slow, and since I hadn’t seen any vehicles since that Jeep last night I wasn’t too worried about the need to pass another car in the tight spots. In the daylight I saw an abandoned house

And a really neat view of Boundary Peak

I made it back to US 6 without incident, but the vehicle was quite dirty and had pinstripes from the willows. It was a 5 hour drive from here back to Las Vegas. I spent it with the radio turned up to avoid the constant “not in your lane beeping”. Once in Vegas I looked for a car wash to try and buff out he streaks. It was surprisingly difficult to find one that was open and operating (I found a bunch of closed or non operational car washes however).

After driving around for half an hour I was finally able to find a car wash, paid the $7 and was extremely happy with how everything turned out: no scratches left on the rental car! Woot! Now it was off to return the car (I didn’t have any issues) and to get to the airport early, hopefully to change my flight to an earlier one so I could hike again tomorrow.

My flight didn’t leave until 9pm and I was at the airport by 3pm. I went to the desk to try and get an earlier flight but even on standby they wanted more than double what I’d paid for both tickets combined to take an earlier flight home. I was not ok with this, so I decided to take a shower and eat instead (yes, the Las Vegas airport has showers, if you know where to look).

I spent the next few hours relaxing before my flight home, listening to others talk about what they’d done during their Bachelor/Bachelorette parties that weekend. I was a little upset I’d get back to late to hike the next day, but all in all considered my birthday weekend a win!

Dallas Peak – 13,812

RT Length: 12 miles

Elevation Gain: 5445’

There are a lot of really good reports on this mountain, but I’m visual and like a lot of pictures so I’m adding what I have to what’s already out there…

In keeping with my “sleep is for amateurs” theme this month I made it home yesterday just in time to pack up the truck and make it to the campground before dark. I helped my daughter set up her tent and then walked around the campground talking with the other families (I was hosting a Girl Scout Family campout, which was pretty chill, seeing as how everyone was basically “family camping” at the same spot). We’ve done this for the past 10 years now so I know every family has their own routine. Most go off roading and a few go into town. Everyone canoes/kayaks. My daughter wanted to get her homework done the first day so she could enjoy the weekend, so I decided to let her do that and I’d go hiking. 4 hours away. (Hey, in my mind the trailhead was 6 hours from my house, and by combining it with this trip I knocked 2 hours of the drive there and 2 hours back).

I was able to fall asleep around 8:30pm and got up at 10pm to drive the 4 hours to the Mill Creek / Deep Creek Trail (please do not confuse this with the Mill Creek Campground: you won’t end up in the right spot).

While sleep may be for amateurs, I’d had less than 4 hours sleep in the past 48 due to my South Colony Lake hike yesterday, and I found on the drive to the trailhead I was more tired than I’ve ever been driving. This scared me, so I pulled over to the side of the road and spent 5 minutes trying to fall asleep. This didn’t work, but it did give me about another half hour of driving in before I felt too tired to go on and decided to set my alarm for 20 minutes. 20 minutes was the magic number, and I was able to effortlessly drive the rest of the way to the trailhead, hike all day, and make it back to the campground without feeling the need to sleep again.

I was surprised to find the trailhead is at the end of a shelf road, and even more surprised to find so many vehicles parked there.

I was on the trail at 2:45am, a little disappointed in how heavy my pack was containing all my gear (60 meter rope, harness, belay device, webbing , etc.). I put on my helmet at the trailhead before starting the hike. The trailhead was very easy to find. I followed it northeast along the Deep Creek Trail.

After about half a mile I turned left (west) at this junction and continued on the Deep Creek Trail

The trail switchbacked 5 or 6 times up the mountainside and then curved north around it, following a well defined trail

After a total of about 1.7 miles there’s another trail junction. I turned right (north) here

And followed the Sneffles Highline/Deep Creek Trail north through some aspen trees

And switchbacked another 8 or 9 times up the mountain, transitioning through pine trees and then tundra mixed with pine

I was enjoying the lights of Telluride as I hiked in the dark, but I wasn’t enjoying the soreness in my shoulders. I took an ibuprofen and trudged on. This is where the trail looses about 300’ of elevation for no good reason. Luckily it’s not too drastic of an incline because it’s dispersed over half a mile, but it still hurts on the way out.

This decrease in elevation will take you to the base of Dallas Peak. Here you leave the trail and find your own way up the grassy slopes towards the cliff bands. Here is the route I took:

I started this in the dark, and just followed the tundra north, which eventually led me to a gully and a rocky cliff area. There was a lot of loose rock and scree here that slowed me down quite a bit (that and I was tired from all the hiking I’d already done this week). This is also a good time to put on your microspikes. I’ve heard there’s class 3 scrambling here but was able to find a class 2+ scree route by following social trails.

Just before making it to the cliffs I turned right (northeast) and followed some cairns to the ridge

You continue following to the left (northwest)

Until you see a gully to your left. Ascend via the class 4/5 section to the right of the gully. There are plenty of hand/foot holds here, and at the top there are anchors to rappel down (I didn’t, but if the rocks were wet I could see how this would be useful).

Once I gained this section I made my way to the base of the summit block and changed my gear, putting on my climbing shoes (totally worth carrying them) and harness. At this point I was exhausted: My gear was heavy and that mile of scree/talus had taken a lot out of me. Here’s the first part of the route:

This was as fun class 5 chimney climb that took some fancy footwork (only because I’m short). At times I was pressing my back to the rock for leverage and using my palms for support.

Here’s looking back down on this section

Here is where the route gets tricky. Even though you want to summit by going straight ahead (west) this is not the way to summit. Continue right around to the north side of Dallas.

Cairns weren’t helpful here. I kept finding areas that looked ‘summitable’ but for me weren’t. It was getting frustrating but I refused to give up: I’d make it half or even three quarters of the way up a line only to find the hand/foot holds ran out, and I knew there had to be a safer way. In total there were two obvious areas I tried that didn’t work before before coming to the correct one at the bottom of a small dirt filled gully on the north side of Dallas

Here’s what it looked like from the bottom

I was able to climb up this area without ropes, although it was slow going and I was careful with every hand/foot hold. I was very glad to have my climbing shoes. I summited at 9:15am.

Dallas Peak:

I was quite thrilled with myself for making it up without ropes, and decided to spend a long time on the summit, enjoying my success.

The way off Dallas Peak is to rappel to the southeast

There was quite a bit of webbing already set up.

The only problem? This guy. He refused to move, and quite honestly I didn’t want to scare him and have him bite/sting/fly all around me. So I talked to him for a bit and told him if he didn’t move, I wouldn’t kill him. This arrangement seemed to work, as he never left his spot. He was about 2 inches long.

I set up my gear and threw my rope over the side. It got tangled, so I had to haul it back up, untangle it, and throw it again. Success! On the way down it’s instantly committing. You aim for the hole (the hole is the halfway point down).

I double checked my set-up, leaned back and felt secure, so I unhooked my slings and started down, aiming for the hole in the rock

When I made it down to the hole I found it was a ledge: I could have set up a second rappel from here if need be (but my 60 meter rope was more than long enough). Here’s what it looks like looking up and down from the ledge.

I leaned back one more time and started the rappel down through the hole, noticing there was a rope that had been left there. When I made it to the ground I saw a sign on the rope asking others to leave it as they found it, as its owner is coming back this winter to retrieve it.

I unhooked my belay device, pulled my rope through and recoiled it, mentally thinking through the rest of the descent. I felt confident I could descend the class 4 section without rope, so I put it away in my bag.

Here’s the way I rappelled down

I decided to keep on my climbing shoes until I made it back down past the class 4 section. I wasn’t disappointed, as the rock was easier to navigate than it had been on the way up wearing climbing shoes. I felt very secure down-climbing this area. Also, it looks very different on the way down

Here’s a look at the way down from the ledge. I stuck to the left (east) of the snow and just aimed for the obvious trail below that cut across the side of the mountain, so glad I was doing this now in the daylight

I made it back to the trail and all I could think about was making it back to the campground as soon as possible: I’d promised my daughter I’d make dinner. I found some raspberries along the way that were delicious, so that settles it: Raspberries in the San Juans just taste better.

I made it back to my truck at 1:30pm, making this a 12 mile hike with 5445’ of elevation gain in 11 hours

I made it back to the campground around 5:30pm and we stayed up and chatted around the lake/campfire until late into the night. This is how I spent the rest of my Labor Day weekend, relaxing in the beauty of one of my favorite Centennials…

Teakettle – 13,815, “Coffeepot” – 13,568 & Potosi Peak 13,793

RT Length: 6 miles (seems fake but I’ll take it)

Elevation Gain: 4168’

This climb was several years in the making. Knowing if I wanted to complete the Centennials (etc.) I’d need to have rock climbing skills I started going to a rock climbing gym once a week a few years ago. While I enjoyed the climbing and the skills I learned helped immensely with scrambling on class 3+ peaks, I didn’t get a lot of experience with actually setting up/taking down ropes and anchors.

I bought books on mountaineering and watched YouTube videos, but there isn’t a lot of information out there on self-belaying/rappelling (I wonder why?). So I turned to friends I knew who rock climbed and picked their brains. A couple even offered to take me out and show me the ropes. I took them up on their offers, and by mid-summer this year I felt confident enough to go out and try this peak on my own. Please note, I’d already gone out dozens of times and set up anchors and rappelled locally, this was just the first time I was going to do so solo and, well, without anyone to help if needed.

I arrived at the Yankee Boy Basin restroom area at 3:30am and was on the trail by 3:45am.

I put my helmet on before I left the truck, and my pack was curiously not as heavy as I’d anticipated. I considered this my first win of the day. I walked about 1/10 of a mile down the road, realized I’d left my DSLR in the front seat and quickly turned around to retrieve it. I’d been a little worried about my bruised tailbone from last week, and while I have a good 5 inch bruise on my backside my pack wasn’t bothering it as I hiked. Second win of the day!

Camera retrieved I hiked northwest along the dirt road, crossing a large mud puddle and turning right.

Note: I chose this route because on a topo map it looked easier. After completing the hike I have my doubts, and believe this is the correct entry point:

The elevation gain begins immediately and doesn’t quit. I headed northwest up a steep grassy slope, enjoying the meteor shower and a herd of either goats of sheep watching my ascent (in the dark I couldn’t tell which they were, but could see them watching me).

The grassy slope turned to large rocks and talus as I entered a basin.

In the moonlight I could see my goal: this steep scree section at the base of the black gully. I’ve lightened these pictures up for detail, but this is where I was headed.

The ascent was a grueling climb over steep scree, made marginally easier when I put on my microspikes. The worst part was getting all those small rocks inside my shoes. I couldn’t help but think I should be wearing gaiters to keep the rocks out. Don’t they make something for this for runners so they don’t get rocks in their shoes? Anyway, the terrain was not ideal in the least: some of the worst scree/talus/etc. I’ve ever encountered. At times I was literally grasping the dirt for traction with my hands.

I exited climbers left out of the black gully. The black gully is class 2+ climbing, and much easier than the scree/talus I encountered before the gully. I was pleasantly surprised with how easy it was to climb.

Here’s a look back down the black gully. You can see “Coffeepot” in the upper left corner

Here’s a look at the route from the top of the black gully

I followed the rock rib around until I came to another gully, climbed up, and turned left

From here there’s some rock scrambling. I kept heading northwest towards the summit tower

Ok, easy part over. Now it was time to get out my gear and mentally prepare for this climb. Looking at the route it didn’t look that difficult. I felt confident I could climb both up and down without needing ropes (ha!). I changed into my rock climbing shoes, put on my harness just so I wouldn’t need to at the top, and left my trekking pole and hiking boots at the base of the climb: no need to carry unnecessary equipment.

Here’s the route up

The first half of this climb was indeed straightforward, but as soon as I crossed over to the ‘actual’ climb things got a little more hairy and I quickly came to the realization I was not going to be able to downclimb if I continued, and if I were to go any further, I would need to fully commit. It was either downclimb now or I was doing this all the way. My legs started to shake so I took a steadying breath and reminded myself I’d trained for this and it was within my abilities. I looked up and steadily climbed to the top, being careful with each hand/foothold I chose. I couldn’t help thinking to myself (over and over again) how much easier this would have been if I’d been a few inches taller. I’m happy with being 5’4”, but at times like this being 5’6”+ definitely would have its advantages.

I made it to the top and looked back down on what I’d done. Woot! I’d made it! I dropped my gear and tried to get a few pictures. This wasn’t working, mainly because the summit just wasn’t big enough. So, selfies it is again. I did get a video and a few pictures to prove I’d summited (you’d be surprised how much some other people care…). I summited Teakettle Mountain at 7:15am

Summit Video:

Oh, and I know that’s not a teacup but an espresso cup. I don’t own any teacups and I was planning on climbing “Coffeepot” today as well, so I compromised (also, this is Teakettle, not Teacup… and btw I do love all those teacup photos, not throwing shade here, just rambling). Mississippi is a nod to family. Also, there may or may not be whiskey in that cup. Ok, there was, but only a sip. I still had to make it back down but still felt a bit like reveling: I’d climbed up without a rope!

Now for the true test: setting up an anchor and rappelling back down. There were several anchors already set up, and while I’d love to trust someone else’s’ anchor (let’s face it, the odds are in their favor here) I didn’t know how long they had been there, so I decided to set my own anchor up and attach it to the ones already in place.

I was worried I’d forget something. Not that I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was at altitude, hadn’t had any food/water besides a sip of whiskey (personal choice on 99% of my hikes to prevent nausea) and had done a lot of physical activity and I didn’t want to mess up here, so I checked and re-checked everything twice and then a third time and made sure to secure my sling(s) before even beginning. Luckily there was a stable rock behind the anchor for me to use during set-up as well.

Anchor all set up I uncoiled my rope, attached it to the anchor, and threw it in the position I wanted for a rappel.

OK, moment of truth. I put back on all my gear, attached the belay device, leaned back and everything held, so I unhooked my slings, took a deep breath, and leaned back. It all went smoothly and faster than I’d anticipated. So much so that I stopped about 10 feet from the ground and played with the side of the wall, pushing my feet off the rocks and bouncing back and forth for a bit before finishing the rappel. Yes, I was pretty proud of myself when my feet hit the ground safely, and even more so after I’d retrieved and recoiled my rope.

After changing back into my hiking shoes and putting all my gear away I figured it was a good time to celebrate: I actually took a full shot of whiskey (now that the hard part was over) and decided to play a bit with the rock formation. It would have been really cool to get one of those pictures with me in the hole, but there was no way I could set up my camera and make it back into position in time, so I settled for one of my shadowselfies.

I spent a lot more time here than I usually would at a ‘summit’ but I was celebrating: This climb had been several years in the making, I’d put a lot of energy and effort into all this climb entailed, and (with the training help of friends) I’d successfully summited solo. I was going to celebrate!!!

After a few minutes of fun I turned and headed back towards the Black Gully. From the Black Gully here’s the look at the route over to “Coffeepot” (and the route I would have taken over to the Black Gully had I not taken the scree route up)

Here’s a look in the daylight back down the scree route up

From the bench below “Coffeepot” here’s a look back at the Black Gully

From here I turned left (east) and decided to check out “Coffeepot”. It doesn’t much look like a coffeepot from this angle, does it? It’s basically a quick class 3 climb over some rocks, and a short class 5.0-5.2 climb (per Roach) up a chimney.

I made it about ¼ of the way up the chimney and realized I didn’t fit with my backpack on, so I retreated, set down my pack at the top of the class 3 part, and tried again sans gear. It was much easier this time and reminded me of when I was younger and would climb through a tree hollowed out by lightning. It was a tight fit but I felt very secure as I twisted around and topped out at the top of “Coffeepot”. I summited “Coffeepot” at 8:45am

Video:

Back down was a bit tricky because I had to go over an overhang to get back into the chimney, but in today’s conditions I felt in no way was a rope necessary (I did hold onto the anchor a bit as I was steadying myself in the beginning, but it wasn’t necessary).

It you feel comfortable at class 4 climbing and are considering trying “Coffeepot” I’d say go for it. Here’s a look at the climbing side of “Coffeepot”

From here I could see Potosi Peak, my next objective.

I was feeling pretty good at this point, having completed two Class 5 climbs. However, this peak actually proved to be difficult because there were some unexpected obstacles in the way. Here’s the initial route down and back up the ridge, over to the corner of the cliffs

From the Coffeepot/Potosi saddle up the ridge was full of very loose talus. I’d encourage you to keep your helmet on for the entire hike, even though some of this stuff is labeled at 2+

The traverse around to the corner of Potosi took much longer than anticipated, but was straightforward.

At the corner I turned left and headed northeast up and over some more loose talus and rocks

And around the south side of Potosi until I came to a gully. This area was well cairned until the gully.

As I rounded the corner and came to the gully I was surprised to find a large mass of snow blocking the route up. This snow was at least 4 feet thick, 30 feet across, and 50 feet vertical, turning the class 2+ gully into a class 3 climb over large, unstable and loose rocks to get around the soft snow.

Here’s looking back down on the snow filled gully area

After the snow there was more class 3 climbing to get to the top of the gully. To be fair, it looked like there had been quite a bit of recent rockfall, including several large boulders.

About 100 feet before the top of the gully I headed up and over this rocky area. The rock is stable but covered in a lot of small rocks, making it slippery to climb. There were cairns here as well.

Almost done, I headed up through more loose talus, through a notch, and turned left for the short push to the summit

There was a bit of snow here, surrounded by squishy mud: the kind that will suck your shoes off if your foot settles on it for any length of time, so I quickly traversed this area to the summit

I summited Potosi Peak at 11:05am

Summit Video:

The summit was relatively flat

I pulled out my phone and checked my tracker. It said I’d gone 3.9 miles so far today and that seemed like a lie. I thought to myself I’d need to delete and re-download the app because last week it had stopped on me unexpectedly during my last hike and now it wasn’t tracking accurately… it must need a reboot.

I quickly headed back down the gully, around the side of Potosi, and back towards the Potosi/Coffeepot saddle. This is where I made my first mistake: I had the option of climbing back up to Coffeepot and taking the traditional way down, or going straight down from the Potosi/Coffeepot Gully. I chose the gully (I’d advise you to instead head back up to “Coffeepot” and then down).

In any event, I made it to the saddle and turned to head down the gully, aiming for the most stable sections of scree, navigating between rock formations

Here’s a look back up at the decent route I took from the saddle

When I got to the base of the rock formations I looked ahead and could tell I did not want to continue straight: The gully turned into a waterfall and I could see snow at the base. It did not look safe. (Solid line). That was ok though because I had beta from a friend telling me I could just traverse over the hillside and I’d eventually run into the trail that led up “Coffeepot” (dotted line). I figured nothing could be worse than the talus on the ascent, right?

Here’s what I was trying to avoid

Let me tell you, this beta was FALSE! Even though it looks like you can traverse over, you cannot. Well, I did, but went through a lot of very sketchy terrain. Visually it looks like you can cross on tundra the entire way but there are rock gullies you can’t see from here, and in fact can’t see until you’re right up on them. Yes, I checked beforehand it looked like it went on a topo, but on the ground it wasn’t working. There were gullies everywhere that were extremely difficult to cross. Every time I made it over one I’d encounter another. I didn’t even feel comfortable stopping to take pictures. It was frustrating because I could clearly see where I needed to be, I just couldn’t get there. Please don’t take this way. It looks like it goes, and maybe it does in winter, but it wasn’t safe. My advice is to skip this decent route all together and hike back up to “Coffeepot” and then down. It took me a lot longer than it should have to descend, and there were many times I almost turned around and retraced my steps back up to the saddle (which I was very close to doing before figuring out the route). Oh, and there was graupel involved. I was ecstatic when I finally did link up to the ascent route and made my way down to the parking lot.

Here’s a look from the road at the route I don’t advise you to take

I made it back at 3pm, making this a 6 mile hike/climb with 4168’ in elevation gain in just over 11 hours. And yes, my tracker was correct (it just felt like so much longer due to all the elevation gain).

All in all, I considered today a great success: I’d summited Teakettle solo, tagged “Coffeepot” and Potosi, and learned a lot about trusting someone else’s’ beta. I drove the 6 hours home, took a bath, and then took my daughters out to a late dinner to celebrate my oldest being home from drum corps and my youngest completing her first week as an upperclassman.

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