I’ve already summited Mt Bierstadt in winter, so I’ll just post a few highlights. It was cold and windy and beautiful and I was the only one on the mountain that day, practicing social distancing the best way I know how!
Summit Sticker can be bought here
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.
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 2nd 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:
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…
RT Length: 8.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 3221’
I’d already considered this a successful Memorial Day weekend: I’d climbed 3 peaks in the San Juans without (major) incident. Saturday I did all the “mom” stuff: Washed all the sheets, did the laundry, went shopping, vacuumed, re-planted a few plants destroyed in the storm last week, and took my daughter ice skating. As we were having dinner I asked my 16 year old what she wanted to do tomorrow? Sleep and study for finals. Hmmm… it looked like I had another morning free to hike! I didn’t want to do anything too far away because it was Memorial Day and I wanted to make something special for dinner, so I did a very quick search of peak conditions and settled on a peak I didn’t need much info to hike: Mt Wilcox.
Mt Wilcox is generally done as a loop with Argentine Peak and Square Top Mountain, but I’ve already done both other peaks previously and just needed to tick off this one in the area, making it the perfect choice for this morning.
Yes, Mt Wilcox seemed like a quick and easy 13er, and there was a close 12er I could hike if all was going well. I didn’t do much research but I also couldn’t find much information in the 10 minutes or so I spent gathering information. I looked at a few trip reports, printed out a shaded topo map and was ready to go.
I arrived at the Guanella Pass Campground / Silver Dollar Road trailhead at 4am and was on the trail by 4:15am. I put on snowshoes in the parking lot and kept them on for the entire hike. I did not regret this decision: they were a bit overkill in the morning, but very helpful on my way back.
I followed the Silver Dollar Road Trail for a little over a mile. The road was still covered in a few feet of crunchy ice.
I followed the road all the way to Naylor Lake, which was covered in ice as well. I steered clear, but it looked like others had recently tried to ski across it?!?!?
There were a few cabins here, some mostly covered in ice. There were footprints and ski tracks everywhere.
At the lake the trail ended and I headed Northeast through the trees and up a small gully to treeline
My beta told me to ascend here, to which (in the dark) I said nope.
There had to be an easier way! I decided to trek along the small basin to see if there was an easier way to get up and over this part. I knew from looking at my topo map once I got above this area the terrain would just slope. I came to this point and thought to myself “this is doable”, picked a line, and made my way up.
It was still pretty steep, but nothing as dramatic as the suggested route. It’s amazing how snow changes things! On the topo map this area looked very similar to Elkhead Pass, which I was unable to downclimb, yet this was manageable.
I made it up this difficult area and then was greeted with a long white climb up snow
Every so often I’d look back, waiting for the sun to rise. The Sawtooth looks pretty cool!
I kept heading west until I could see the summit of Mt Wilcox. When it came into view I thought to myself “That’s it? That looks too easy!”
What I didn’t realize was it’s much further than it looks. I had a hard time focusing on the path ahead of me because I kept turning around to watch the sunrise. Alpine sunrises are the best!
They turn the snow pink for 5 minutes or so
The snow here was very consolidated and easy to navigate. I wasn’t making any tracks though
This hike wasn’t very challenging, but it didn’t seem like I was getting any closer to Mt Wilcox
I’d climb over one area, just to be greeted with another slope
The summit was snow covered, with amazing views!
The hike to the summit hadn’t taken me very long and I wasn’t tired, so I decided to head over to Otter Mountain.
This was very easy. I hiked northeast down the slope of Mt Wilcox to about 12,300’ (losing about 1100’ in elevation) and then just ascended Otter Mountain
Here’s a look back at Mt Wilcox from the base of Otter
The only downside (besides the 400+ feet in elevation gain I had to regain) was the sun was rising as I was hiking up Otter Mountain. I was hiking directly into the sun, which was less than ideal
I kept trying to race the sun, trying to make it to the shadows, hiking faster than it was rising, and when I was almost to the top I won!
The last 100 feet or so in elevation gain were on dry tundra, so I took off my snowshoes and hiked the rest of the way with them in my hands
Yay summit views!
I summited Otter Mountain at 7:15am
One thing I really like about 12ers is it’s easy to breathe while you’re hiking to the summit. I turned around to look at Mt Wilcox and the path I’d taken
Time to head back. I knew I could just take the slope of Otter Mountain down to the parking lot,
But I wanted to get day pictures of the hike, so I made it a loop. I stayed high to avoid the drainage area (which was a serious drop from every angle). Here’s the path I took back
Just Because…
And a look back at Otter Mountain and the route I took from the Mt Wilcox ledge area
Time to try and find my tracks and head back down! Another reason I wanted to make this a loop was to see how difficult the downclimb would be. I can climb up terrain no problem, but the downclimb still puts me on edge sometimes, and I considered this great practice without too much commitment (a fall wouldn’t be too far and it would land me in the willows).
I hate saying this, but once again, it’s steeper than it looks
I made it down successfully to the willows
And trekked back to Naylor Lake. It looked like someone had been skiing in the area recently. As I passed the cabins I noticed a “No Trespassing” sign near an open gate. Note: in the dark on the way in I hadn’t seen the gate OR the “No Trespassing” sign. It wasn’t reflective and had been covered in snow. The gate was 90% covered in snow, open, and had tracks going straight through it. The rest of the hike was done in slushy conditions, even though it wasn’t yet 9am. I was glad I’d worn snowshoes. I made it back to my truck at 9am, making this an 8.5 mile hike in under 5 hours. I made it home by 11:30am, 30 minutes before my promised 12pm arrival.
OK, so obviously all I thought about on my way home were those “No Trespassing” and “Private Property” signs. I was mad because I hadn’t realized this was private property and because I’d been following tons of footprints (meaning others hadn’t been respecting private property either). I was mad at myself for not doing more research before the hike (I hadn’t checked maps that would have given me this information) and I was upset all the trip reports I’d looked at (although few) hadn’t mentioned private property and I’d taken their advice. Also, I kept seeing NFS trail signs, so I had no idea I was on private property.
The first thing I did when I got home was look up a map and find a way to fix this. I didn’t have this map on my trek: I made it when I got home. (The topo I had just had slope angle and terrain, and didn’t include the lakes (etc)). Please don’t take my route (the dotted line). There’s another route you can take to the left of Naylor Lake that will get you around the lake, looks easier than the route I took in some areas, and will keep you on public lands.
Also, I will gladly donate tons of Girl Scout cookies to the Naylor Lake Club as penance (and you should close your gates and put up reflective signs for us early birds if you don’t want trespassers… just sayin’).
The best part about my hike? I met some friends by the side of the road on my way down!
Oh, and Memorial Dinner was a great American dish: Beef with Broccoli (but at least I grilled the beef on the grill before adding the glaze… ).
RT Length: 13.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 4938’
So far this weekend nothing was going as planned. I took a 2 hour nap before getting up at 10pm to drive the 6 hours to the trailhead. I’d wanted to hike Point 13,811 today but ended up getting “lost” (apparently there are two Williams Creek Trailheads geographically close to each other) and long story short the workaround was a 3 hour drive, so I missed my window to climb Point 13,811 safely yesterday. What really stinks is I’d printed out the correct directions, set my GPS to the incorrect campground, and when my GPS took me a different way I didn’t challenge it, I just figured I was headed in the back way (face palm). Lesson learned.
Well, I’d driven all this way and wasn’t going to drive back without a hike. I switched my plans and decided to hike 13ers Baldy and friends instead.
After hiking Baldy and friends I drove the 30 minutes to Lake City and the William’s Creek Campground. There was tension in the air in Lake City. The residents seemed to be on edge, and for good reason: Avalanches have closed the popular 4WD roads in the area and now the residents are worried of flooding when those avalanches thaw. Apparently so are the tourists because they aren’t here. This is Memorial Day weekend, and the city looks like a ghost town.
I drove to the campground and was surprised to find not one of the campsites was taken. Not one.
I stopped to talk with the camp host and she told me she’s never seen it like this before. Her voice was quivered as she worried it would be like this all summer. I told her I was just interested in sleeping in my truck near the trailhead but wondered what to do since the trailhead was inside the campground? Should I just park on the road and hike in? She told me to just pick any spot I wanted and I could camp for free. I offered to pay, and she refused. Wow!
She was also concerned I was going out there by myself with “all that snow”. I told her I’d be fine and I’d be gone by noon, but if my truck was still here at night she could start worrying about me.
The trail starts at the back of the campground between spots 11 & 12, so I backed my truck into spot #12 and prepared to make it an early night. A quick wet-wipe bath, 4 packages of tuna, a roll of Ritz crackers, and 3 shots of whiskey later I was sound asleep (by 3pm).
I woke up twice during the night but was able to quickly get back to sleep. When my alarm rang at 2am I was not a happy camper (I’m not a fan of sleeping at trailheads: getting up is the hardest part) but forced myself out of my warm sleeping bag and got ready for the hike. I made myself eat a bagel as well (I don’t like to eat in the morning, as it makes me nauseous while hiking, but I knew I needed the calories). I was going to drink water on this hike too for two reasons. 1) I was dehydrated from not drinking anything yesterday (except 3 shots of whiskey) and 2) hydration is important. I just hoped it didn’t make me nauseous.
I’d done so much research and knew I wanted to make it to treeline as the sun rose, so I needed to be on the trail early. It was 4.5 miles of intense elevation gain to make it to treeline, so I started today at 2:30am, passing through the gate between sites 11 & 12.
The first part of the trail was dry.
The trail was easy to follow as it crossed a few streams and skirted the south side of the mountain. The stream crossings were a bit tricky in the dark, as everything was slippery and loose and the water was flowing fast. Any logs you see that look stable over the water are in fact, not.
I could see lots of evidence of deer/elk/moose in the area (all 3 determined by the scat I saw) but didn’t see any wildlife.
The trail passed by a few ponds. The first one I had no trouble navigating in the dark
The second one is where I had some problems. The correct thing to do here is to go left and hug the side of the slope. In the dark I didn’t know this and instead followed what I thought was the trail (but was really the creek). Luckily this only lasted a quarter mile or so and I was back on track. I didn’t even know I’d done anything wrong until I was hiking back and could see the obvious (and dry) trail above me. The solid way is the way you should go, the dotted one is the way I took. My advice: stay high, stay dry.
Directly after I found the trail again I was in a rocky basin. However, I didn’t know this at the time, I just thought I was following a good trail (with a little bit of solid snow). On my way back I realized it was a rocky basin.
Here’s where the “fun” began. We’re currently right in the middle of spring thaw after an intense winter season. At this point the trail conditions became less than ideal as the spring melt became a river in the middle of the trail
You can imagine how much fun this was to hike in the early morning dark when it was still pretty icy. I came to a small meadow and followed it through what had become a springtime marsh
This area did not smell good: It smelled infected. Just after the meadow is where the fun began, as I was now on a very small and “defined” jeep road. There were several areas with large downed trees covering the trail. On my way back in the daylight this wasn’t difficult to navigate, but as I’ve found quite a bit lately, navigating downed trees in the dark isn’t a pleasant task. Luckily they were all within the same 200 feet or so on the trail.
Oh, and remember how the trail was covered in ice and water earlier? Now it was covered in ice and water and snow! So much fun! I hopped back and forth, trying to stay on the snow. Luckily it was consolidated and not too difficult to accomplish.
Here the trail became difficult to follow again due to the conditions. I was able to find the “jeep road” again at this point (here I’m looking back)
The steady snow began at 11,000’ and never stopped. The road was initially easy to follow, and then around 11,500’ I lost it.
In the dark I had no idea where the road had gone, but the snow was getting a little slushy so I put on my snowshoes and looked at my topo. I needed to head east to summit the mountain in front of me (12,000’). I aimed east and forged my own trail, amazed at how deep the snow was in this area.
I made it to treeline, where both the wind and elevation gain quickly picked up. I was excited to get to the top of this hill (which was point 12,195)
Here’s looking back on the way I came up to treeline
My plan had worked! I’d made it to treeline just as the sun was beginning to rise
I took another sip of water and considered: I now had a clear view of the path to the summit. Here’s the route I took
It looks easy and straightforward, and it is, but there are a few things you should know:
So I started on my way. I skirted Point 12,483 and started hiking the hill to the east (it looks like you can just go straight and hike the adjacent hill but you’ll hit a gully). So, you hike up and when you reach a small plateau you turn right and head north to the summit.
From the plateau if you look left you can see Point 13,632, and to the right is Point 13,811
I headed north to summit Point 13,811. Here the snow changed and changed and changed, from consolidated to postholing to very slippery ice. This is the route I took. I took the dotted line up, and the solid line down.
I would NOT recommend taking the dotted line route. I repeat, DO NOT TAKE THIS ROUTE. It was nasty scree mixed with ice or snow, neither which provided any traction on the 30-35* slope. A fall here would tear up your gear and your hands if you weren’t wearing protection.
From halfway up I got my first good view of another centennial: Point 13,832 (and took a few more sips of water)
I summited to intense winds on a small cornice.
There was no place to set my camera where it wouldn’t slide down the peak so I did my best to get a selfie (sorry, it’s terrible) and looked around
I’d really wanted to hike over to Point 13,832 today and get in both centennials, but I didn’t feel secure on that ridge. In fact, I’d kind of expected it to be more wind-blown. I’d just hiked across snow that looked similar, and the conditions varied quite a bit. Parts that looked secure were not, and parts that didn’t look solid were. I didn’t want to fall and slide that far unsupported. The fall line was so long I couldn’t get it all in one picture
And so I mentally prepared myself to drive the 6 hours back to Lake City sometime this summer to knock off that other point. Time to head down. As I said before, this last 200 feet of vertical or so was not pleasant. I wasn’t going to do that again on my way down. Not going to happen. But the ridge wasn’t much better: It was all ice at a sharp angle, and when the ice gave way rocks went with it. I’m not gonna lie: I turned and faced the mountain at times for this part. Also, I love my ice axe.
I made it to the small saddle and looked at the rest of the route down
And started to get nauseous. Ugh! I knew this would happen! Well, at least I was descending in elevation. Here the snow had varying conditions as well, but less danger of injury
I made it to Point 12,483, over Point 12,195, and back down the trail, following my tracks below treeline. Here I discovered things I hadn’t seen in the dark (the correct trail, stream crossings, navigation around downed trees, rock piles, etc.) and a few things I hadn’t seen in the dark (notice the spider?)
Oh, an old beaver dam…
I was almost done with the hike when I came to a fork in the road I hadn’t remembered, and decided to take the path more traveled. This ended up being a mistake (although not an unfortunate one). I quickly came to a trail register I hadn’t seen in the dark. It was designed for hikers over 7 feet tall, so someone had placed a large rock at its base. I still couldn’t see inside.
Now I was in a meadow. I wasn’t entirely sure I remembered a meadow at the beginning of this hike? Hmmm… things are different in the dark
As I walked through the meadow my arms started to hurt. You know what I’m talking about: your arms get sore from elevation and the blood pools in your hands and you do the “Praise Jesus” walk through the woods. Well, I was doing it now through the meadow
And then I saw houses? Wait. Uh oh. This wasn’t right, but I immediately knew what had happened. I exited the meadow and saw a sign I hadn’t seen on my drive in: A sign for the (correct) Williams Creek trailhead. Because of it’s placement you can’t see it driving in unless you know it’s there, but you can see it driving out.
I turned right and immediately saw the campground sign. Hmph. OK, so I guess I hadn’t needed to enter the campground to find the trailhead.
I felt really dumb, but not really because at least I knew where I was. I walked back to the campground, through the campground to my campsite, and stopped the clock. I made it back at exactly 11:11am
I’d hiked 13.5 miles with almost 5000’ of elevation gain in 8.5 hours.
Oh, and check out my pants. I seriously need a new pair of winter pants. I’ve had this pair since 1998 when I bought it at a garage sale for $3. Last year my crampons tore a hole in them, and I’ve been sewing them up ever since, but I think it’s time for a new pair. This hole collects snow when I hike, which means I can stop every 5 minutes or so and unload 5lbs of snow-turned ice or I can carry it in my leg, limping unevenly as I go.
Added to that they’re bibs, which makes using the facilities unpleasant; especially when it’s cold outside. I’ve been looking for new snow pants for quite a while but I can’t find any in my size, and yes I’ve checked Goodwill and in children’s sections. Any petite ladies out there have advice on buying snow pants that fit (and preferably look good)? I think I’m seriously in the market for a new pair at this point…
On my way out I stopped by and thanked the Camp Host, wishing I had something to offer her in return (since she wouldn’t take money). Usually I give out Girl Scout Cookies but I didn’t have any this time. She asked me to let people know Lake City is open, half of the city is in no danger of flooding, and she’d love to have some campers! If you get the chance this summer, consider camping in Lake City at any of the campgrounds along County Road 30. They’re open (and empty). I drove through the Mill Creek Campground and it didn’t have any campers either…
RT Length: 7.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 3781’
Today was Mothers day, and what better way to celebrate than to go on a solo hike above treeline and let my kids sleep in? Yep, that’s what I thought too, so I made plans to be out and back before my kids woke up (they’re 16 and 20… they’ll sleep until 3pm if I let them).
I couldn’t sleep, so around midnight I decided to just get up and go hiking, even if it was a few hours earlier than intended. I made it to what I thought was the Herman Gulch trailhead to a locked gate at 3:30am, got out my gear and began my hike, only to quickly discover I was not hiking the correct trail. It was immediately obvious and I knew my mistake, so I went back to my truck and re-parked it at the very accessible and open Herman Gulch Trailhead. There were bright orange signs warning me of avalanche danger.
The trail starts just behind the information sign, and follows the Herman Gulch trail west.
The trail was free of snow until I made it to the Herman Gulch / Waterous Gulch Junction. From here on out the trail contained continuous snow, but traction wasn’t necessary for a while. I turned right (east) at the junction.
As I rounded the ridge the snow immediately began to pick up, and in the dark I foolishly tried to walk up what turned out to be a path of solid ice. I immediately slipped and tried to catch myself, but ice is like glass and I cut up my right hand trying to brace myself against the impact and to latch onto something I could grab when I fell. It actually wasn’t that bad, but there was a lot of blood (it hadn’t been cold enough to put on my gloves yet, so my hands didn’t have any protection). I sat down, took off my pack and put my right hand in my mouth to clean up some of the blood while rummaging around my pack with my left hand, searching for my crampons. It looked like someone had taken a snowboard down the trail and smoothed it out, which is great for skiers and snowboarders but it made hiking up the path similar to hiking up an ice chute. Microspikes weren’t going to cut it this morning: I needed crampons. At 9000’.
I stuck my hand in the snow and it immediately froze and the bleeding stopped. I kept my crampons on for most of the hike, mainly because I was too lazy to take them off and they weren’t getting in the way. The trail through the trees was easy to follow as this must have been a popular hike yesterday.
There were several parallel ski lines, but all tracks led to the same area. There was also evidence of several avalanches in the area. Most looked to be many years old, but some looked recent.
After about 2 miles I crossed over to the Waterous/Bard trail junction. I could hear water flowing underneath me, so this might be a creek in the summertime but it was covered in several feet of solid snow this morning.
This is where the ‘trail’ stopped. I turned left and continued on the Waterous Gulch trail for about 1/3 of a mile along the east side of Waterous Gulch
My research told me to hike up the west slopes of Mt Parnassus to the summit, so I turned right (east) here and started up (in the dark, so I couldn’t tell just how steep these slopes were at the time). I needed my ice axe, especially just before treeline as this area was loaded with steep snow.
What awaited me was 2000’ of elevation gain in about a mile. I made it past treeline just as the sun was beginning to rise
The only downside? This is where the wind picked up, and I mean picked up! The forecast had called for 15mph winds today, but these were much higher, and sustained. The wind didn’t seem to care about one direction or another: it kind of swirled around as it blew past. I put on my balaclava and every time I saw a gust coming turned and braced myself against the mountain, waiting for it to pass. It was too early to put on my goggles, so shielding my eyes was especially important, as it felt like shards of glass were flying at my face.
Every time there was a break in the wind I’d look ahead, find a new landmark, and hike towards it. Here’s the route I took over the first hump
And second hump
And third hump (these sections are all much longer and steeper than pictures make them look)
Until I could finally see the summit!
That wind hadn’t let up so I didn’t stay too long on the summit.
I took a summit photo that didn’t turn out too well because of the wind and blowing snow
And waited for a lull to get a shadowselfie. Check out all that snow! Amazing for the middle of May!
Take a look over at Bard Peak. I’d really wanted to make this a double summit today, but those winds weren’t letting up. They’d been at it since I’d hit treeline and showed no sign of stopping. The wind was making clouds out of the snow on the ridge, continuously blowing it up into the air. This ridge looked spicy without the wind, and with it downright dangerous: Those cornices were made up of loose snow. I could tell because the wind was picking it up and throwing it around without too much trouble.
Well, that was a bummer. I guess I’d just head back the way I came. And then it hit me: Woods Mountain was just across the way, and while it isn’t a 13er it’s a respectable 12er (12,940’). I’d just head over there and get in a double summit that way. So I turned and headed northwest towards Woods Mountain (and away from the wind).
Almost immediately my crampons became cumbersome, so I took them off and exchanged them for snowshoes. Ahhhh! Much better! I turned to look up. Yep! That’s steep!
I made it down to the Woods/Parnassus saddle in no time and looked back at the way I’d come
And my way up Woods Mountain
This was going to be easy! The only downside? The saddle was a bit windy as well.
The slope up Woods Mountain was long and gentle and didn’t require any rest.
It didn’t feel like it took very much time to summit (and here the winds calmed down)
From the summit I looked back at Parnassus and the other 13ers I’d intended to hike today. I sighed: the wind was still at it. Oh well, this just means I’ll have to do the Engelmann-Robeson-Bard trek later.
I turned and looked at the way I was supposed to head down the mountain, behind Woods’ south slopes, and on to Point 12805, but it just didn’t look…. safe.
So I turned and looked back at the Woods/Parnassus saddle and studied the terrain.
I got out my topo map and concluded it was safe to head back to the saddle. I took the solid orange line back down to Waterous Gulch. The dotted orange line is the way I summited Parnassus.
Oh, and I could see a solo hiker taking the same route I had up Mt Parnassus. That meant someone else was out here today. Cool!
The wind started picking up again when I made it back down to the saddle.
I turned right (west) and headed down towards the gulch. Just before treeline I turned back around and looked at the way I’d come
Video from below saddle: Bard/Parnassus
I turned back towards the gulch and followed the drainage to a small gully
The bottom of this gully ended in Waterous Gulch, about 200 feet from where I’d turned to start my long trek up to the summit of Mt Parnassus. I quickly came to the realization it would have been much easier to just have used this small gully to gain the saddle between Woods and Parnassus to summit Mt Parnassus rather than to have climbed Parnassus’ west slopes. I’d recommend just taking the gully. The dotted line is the way I summited, but as you can see, the solid path works just as well (if not better).
Back in Waterous Gulch I picked up my earlier trail and followed it back to my truck, taking pictures in the daylight for future use. The snow had warmed up and the icy section from this morning now gave a little as I descended (so no slipping!). I made it back to my truck at 9:30am, making this a 7.5 mile with 3781’ elevation gain in 5.5 hours. I was a bit disappointed I hadn’t made it over to Bard Peak, and with that missing the added mileage and elevation (I wasn’t even tired…) but on the positive side I’d make it home before noon, and it was Mother’s Day, so I should wake up the girls and do something to celebrate.
Here’s the Relive:
RT Length:
Elevation Gain:
I really wanted to do Atlantic and Pacific together, but until April I have limited time schedules for hiking (I need to be back at my truck by noon to make it home in time to pick up my daughter from school, so it’s hikes under 8 miles until then). The weather indicated Atlantic Peak would be a good choice for today, so I went for it. This was only supposed to be a 4-6 mile hike and I wanted to break in my new winter hiking boots. They were supposed to be lighter and warmer than my Sorrels, but I was skeptical so I wanted to use them on a shorter hike before committing to longer distances.
I arrived at the Mayflower Gulch trailhead at 5:15am to 14* weather, much better than the -5* weather of last week in the San Juans. I was also pleasantly surprised to find it was right off the road: no off road driving for me today. There was one other vehicle (a Subaru) in the lot, and while the gate was open up to Boston Mine I decided to park my truck at the lower lot and hike in.
The lower lot was icy!!! I put on my microspikes in the truck and gathered my gear. I set out at 5:30am. It was very peaceful hiking at night. Silent. Very silent. No moon, but the stars were magnificent! The only sound was the snow falling off tree branches and onto the trail below. The trail was tightly packed down by other hikers, snowshoers and skiers.
A 4WD vehicle could have made the icy drive, but since this hike was so short it didn’t seem worth the extra mile and a half. I made it to the Boston Mine area before sunrise and put on my snowshoes in the dark. I was lazy so I kept my microspikes on and just put my snowshoes on over them. If I needed to take them off it would be a quick transition and maybe I could keep my gloves on the entire time (saving my fingers from the cold).
Oh, btw, this fence is not the height of a normal fence… it’s probably half the height (so the snow looks deeper than it actually is).
Snowshoes ended up being a great idea, because while the trail was packed down, as soon as I went off trail I started sinking to my knees, even while wearing my snowshoes. I looked for a trail across the gulch, but it looked like I was the first since the last snowfall so I broke my own trail.
The sun was beginning to rise, and Jacque Peak looked beautiful.
The snow was sugary and made snowshoeing difficult. I’d be fine for a few yards, and then plunge up to my waist. This was a serious problem in the willows, but I made it across the gulch and was surprised to exit and stumble upon a cairn! This was an unexpected treat! I found about 4 cairns on the entire route, always unexpected and sometimes on my way back down.
After crossing the gulch I was supposed to follow Mayflower Creek up to Atlantic’s west ridge, but the snow didn’t look stable and it looked really deep, so I stayed higher up on the hillside. This was great (early elevation gain) but there were times I was seriously worried about avalanche danger. It wouldn’t have been an intense avalanche, but I could see signs I should take an alternate route back once it warmed up. So I was slow in traversing the slope, but careful and ultimately safe.
Here’s the route I took
My next task was to hike Atlantic’s lower west ridge. This ended up being more difficult than anticipated: the snow here was very consolidated, unlike the sugary snow on the slopes and gullies. My snowshoes weren’t going to cut it. I took off one snowshoe and tried it with my microspikes. They became ice skates. Hmph. Ok, I was going to need to get creative. I put back on my snowshoes and got out my ice axe. This wouldn’t have been a problem with two ice axes or two ice picks and crampons, but I only had one ice axe and I hadn’t brought my crampons (I thought it was still too early). So I used my ice axe to drill a hole big enough for my left hand and then struck the snow with the axe and my right hand for support and lifted myself up. My snowshoes used the holds I’d made for my hands. This worked very well and I was able to gain the ridge in no time at all. (Note to self: It’s time for crampons).
Here’s a look back on the route
From here I was just supposed to follow the trail to the summit, but there wasn’t a trail, and in fact, at about 12,700’ I encountered some of the most difficult terrain of this hike.
This is where I wanted to turn back. I seriously considered it. The snow was intermittent and what snow there was was sugary and covering loose talus, so I couldn’t get a good grip on it in my snowshoes. I took them off again to try it with just spikes and it was even worse! My microspikes were of no use: I really needed the stability/flotation of snowshoes. Even though they weren’t perfect, they were a big help. This area took me much longer to navigate than it should have, but I didn’t quit and I didn’t turn back. I gained this ridge and was met with this:
Wow. That ridge didn’t look too difficult in normal conditions, but I could already see this would be a challenge due to the unpredictable snow. Maybe not a challenge for seasoned snow summiters, but I’m still new to this. There was snow, lots of cornices beginning to form, and a narrow ridge to navigate. I forged on ahead.
Luckily a mountain goat had been here last night and gave me some tracks to consider. There were times I didn’t feel safe following it’s tracks, but they did give me a good general direction to follow, which was directly on top on the ridge.
I’d reach one summit and find another, which was frustrating, but I knew everything I encountered was within my abilities and even a bit challenging. I came across a few sections that would have been class 2 if there hadn’t been snow, but with the snow (and instability of said snow) I decided it was safer just to go straight over the ridge. This turned the hike into a class 3 climb, and with snowshoes made me a bit clumsy (but safer than without).
This was one of those learning opportunities where I was scared at times but knew I could do it so I kept pushing forward, even though there were many times I wanted to quit and come back in the summer.
Here’s the route I took:
The trek wasn’t long, and I wasn’t tired when I reached the summit, but I was cold. Luckily my phone and camera were working, although my phone cut out halfway though the first video and I had to take another one and then it shut down. I plugged it into my portable charger and took pictures with my DSLR. I summited at 9am.
VIDEO:
While it was cold it wasn’t windy, so the cold was bearable. I stayed on the summit much longer than I normally do, taking pictures and marveling at the beauty of the mountains with snow.
I considered traversing Pacific Peak as well, but didn’t think I’d be able to do it successfully with my time constraints. The class 3 route looks doable now though, so I may be back in the next few weeks.
Here’s a look back at the route
The trek back was easier than the hike in because I just followed my tracks (and didn’t look down). Looking down would have caused unnecessary anxiety.
Those ridges were something else!
Of course I took a shadowselfie
I decided to follow the creek down because that was what I was supposed to do and I was seriously worried about avalanche danger on the route I’d taken up the mountain. I’m still learning about avalanches, but know some of the initial signs and what I was seeing wasn’t making me comfortable. So I took the creek, but this proved difficult as well, as out of nowhere I’d sink up to mu chest in soft snow and then have to work myself out. This happened many times and was frustrating, but I still felt safer than on the slope above.
Just before hitting Mayflower gulch my toes started to hurt: the new snow boots were fine, but the snowshoes and boots combination was cutting off circulation in my toes and trekking downhill was beginning to hurt. This hadn’t happened in my previous boots, and is something I need to consider.
Also, I lost my phone. It fell out of my pocket and I had to retrace my steps ¼ of a mile uphill to find it. That wasn’t fun. I found it buried in snow (but attached to my bright orange solar charger). I picked it up and trudged back down the hill and across Mayflower Gulch to Boston Mine.
It was a beautiful day! And warm! I took off my gloves but had to put them back on again once I made it back to the trail (and shade). Have I mentioned I love my new gloves!
My new winter books are ok, but despite my double tying them and folding them under my laces they still came undone while hiking, which isn’t an option for me since I can’t tie them wearing mittens. I may try safety pinning them next time.
I made it back to the trailhead at noon and looked at my STRAVA map. Hmph! This wasn’t right: It showed my trek to the summit, but it seems it stopped working there and picked up again where I found my phone in the snow after losing it (please don’t attempt to take that straight line: it’s not safe!!!). So while the elevation gain is most likely correct, the trek down and mileage definitely are not. My iPhone told me I’d hiked 6.8 miles, so I’m going with that for mileage. The hike was 5.5 hours.
Here’s my Relive map (which is also false since it did that straight line thing from the summit to where I lost my phone).
RT Length: 8 miles
Elevation Gain: 3450’
I made several spreadsheets this week outlining possible hikes, and finally settled on Mt Oklahoma. Imagine my surprise when I checked the weather forecast one more time at 2am and it switched from 15mph winds to 45mph winds! I considered changing my peak at the last minute, and then looked at the direction of the wind. I should be ok….
Speaking of OK, when I was about 8 or 9 years old I understood the joke for the first time that “Oklahoma is OK”. I thought this was hilarious, even though my friends didn’t ‘get it’. I told it over and over again and got blank stares. Maybe I just wasn’t telling it right? But I digress…
I arrived at the trailhead around 5:30am, surprised the 4WD road was clear of snow all the way to the upper trailhead, despite snow in the forecast for last night. Conditions of the road in are the same as the last time I was here (https://wildwandererlmc.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/55-mt-massive-14421/).
There were no other vehicles in the parking lot. I gathered my gear (whoops! I forgot my goggles, oh well, my sunglasses would have to do) and started just before 6am. I followed the Mt Massive/Halfmoon Lakes trail to the trail junction in the dark, but by the light of the full moon. The trail had pockets of snow, but no traction was needed.
The moon gave off enough light so I didn’t need my flashlight, but not enough light to get a good picture of the mountains in all their snow capped glory. They were beautiful, and I stopped several times to try and photograph them (none of which turned out). I was wasting serious time trying to get a picture I’d never be able to capture, so I put my camera(s) away and kept going.
From the trail junction I continued west, back into the trees
And up and over a very large rock (I’m guessing 50-70 feet long?)
I kept thinking to myself how I wished the elevation gain would start soon. I was over 2 miles into a 4 mile summit, and still no real elevation gain. Those last few miles were going to be a killer! From here I left the North Halfmoon Lakes trail and the route-finding began. The trail was surprisingly free of snow until I passed the second creek crossing.
From here snowshoes would have been helpful, but I didn’t put them on. Route finding through the trees was interesting. At points I could tell there was a trail, or a heavily used path out there somewhere, but most of the time everything was covered under lots of snow.
I had to backtrack once, but was able to find my way to the ridge and after exiting treeline I found a few cairns (not enough to rely on… maybe 5 total in the next 2 miles). At the ridge I continued left
Over this hill and up the drainage
And up some more drainage. This is where I put on my snowshoes. The snow is deceptively deep in some areas here (it is a drainage after all) and bare in other places. The snowshoes were worth it for the times I sank to my waist.
At the top of this drainage was a small basin
I found 2 cairns here, indicating the way I should take up the slope.
This is where the hike became challenging. That slope is much steeper than it looks, and just when you reach the top, there’s another slope just as long to navigate. I kept on my snowshoes until the snow stopped, and then put them in my pack and hiked up to the ridge. Hiking was much easier with the snowshoes! I’ll take snow over scree any day.
When I reached the ridge I was surprised to see more snow. A lot of it! But it didn’t look that deep, so I put on my microspikes and started forward.
That lasted about 30 feet. There was no way this was going to work. I needed snowshoes. And goggles (that wind!). I stopped to put them on, realized I’d left my goggles in my truck (drat!) and looked at the task before me. I had less than an hour to make it to the top before my turn around time. My legs were burning, and it was slow going, but I knew I could do this. I trudged on. There isn’t an exact route to the top, just keep aiming for the highest point. I chose to go left instead of straight because the snow looked deeper and less stable directly in front of me.
Once again, it’s steeper than it looks and I had to stop every 50 feet or so just to catch my breath. My ice axe proved useful several times. The wind was picking up and I was getting cold. Those 2 miles without elevation gain were catching up on me!
I summited at 9:25am (my turnaround time was 9:30am)
VIDEO:
The summit is mostly flat, with a small cropping of rocks near the Mt Massive side.
Here’s a view to the south
This is the way I came up
I turned and looked to the left of Massive, and there was the weather I’d been worried about. 45mph winds turning fresh snow into ice clouds, headed towards me. It was time to book it off this summit before those clouds reached me.
But first, a shadow selfie
I backtracked the way I’d hiked in, following my tracks
The snow was soft, perfect for skiing. I didn’t have any skis, but I had fun gliding in strides in my snowshoes. I quickly made it back to the scree slope where the snow ended for about 200’ and the scree reigned.
I decided against taking off my snowshoes for this part. Snowshoes actually provide the same stability on scree as they do on snow. Plus I was too lazy to take them off just to put them back on again. (If your snowshoes are aluminum don’t try this. Also, get new snowshoes).
I made it down into the basin and stopped for a bit to reapply sunscreen and take off my gloves (I had on multiple pairs). This was also the last time I saw my hat. Since I had on a balaclava too I didn’t notice when it went missing. I’m not sure if I lost it here or in the trees, but if you find it please bring it down and donate it to a worthy organization (I knit about 300 a year and give them to low income elementary schools and teen homeless shelters in Colorado). This was the only time I wore it, and after washing it I’d planned on adding it to the donation pile.
I continued following my tracks back down to treeline and back to the North Halfmoon Lakes trail. After the second stream crossing the snow virtually stopped, and when I hit the junction it was gone all except for when I was in the trees
I made it back to my truck at 11:50am, 10 minutes before my 12pm target time, making this an 8 mile hike/climb/snowshoe adventure in about 6 hours.
I didn’t see a single person the entire day, which I consider a win! There was a Tacoma in the parking lot when I left, and I did see at least 2 if not 4 sets of tracks on the trail going up to Mt Massive as I was heading down.
Here’s my relive video:
https://www.relive.cc/view/1928750207
Note to self: it’s time to keep goggles in gear bag.
RT Length: 7.5 miles
Elevation Gain: 3350’
I woke up at 2am and made it to the Lower Iowa Gulch Trailhead at 5:15am, which was much earlier than I’d anticipated. The drive in is easy on a 2WD dirt road.
There is no official trailhead, so I parked near a tree, gathered my gear, and headed northwest through the base of the amphitheater towards the West Dyer/Dyer saddle.
It was only 1.3 miles to the base of the West Dyer/Dyer saddle. There isn’t a trail, but the route is fairly obvious, even in the dark. Just keep heading for the saddle. Here’s a look back on the basin from the saddle
From the saddle I chose to summit West Dyer Mountain first, an unranked 13er. I chose my route to reflect my time constraints and sunrise/daylight limitations. For me it’s a delicate balance between hiking in the dark/daylight (pictures turn out better in the light) and being back at the TH by noon.
It takes so long for the sun to rise in the fall! I wanted to summit and get pictures, but I also needed to be back at my truck by noon so I could drive home in time to pick up my daughter from school and start our day. So while I was hiking slowly because I wanted to get pictures from the summit in the daylight, I also wanted to get in as much hiking as possible today. In any event, after the saddle I turned west and hiked .2 miles to the summit of West Dyer Mountain, slowly, willing the sun to rise. I summited at 6:20am, while it was still dark. I took some pictures of the summit and waited for the sun to rise. But it just wasn’t happening.
West Dyer:
So I turned back towards the West Dyer/Dyer saddle and put on my helmet.
It was still dark and hard to make out the path I was supposed to take up Dyer’s West Ridge. I was hoping it would be more obvious as I got closer to the route. Here’s a look back on West Dyer from the saddle
The route up Dyers West Ridge is a class 4 route. I knew I was supposed to look for the chimney to the right, climb it, and then stick to the right of the ridge to the summit. That didn’t happen. In the dark I never found the chimney, but I also didn’t look too hard. I was expecting a class 4 route, and I discovered if I stuck to the ridge, and once or twice went to the left when necessary (just a little to the left, not much) I was able to follow the ridge all the way to the false summit. Here’s the route I took (solid orange) and the suggested route (dotted line)
It was class 4 the entire way, but doable, spicy, and FUN!
In fact, I kept expecting to cliff out somewhere, and to need to retrace my steps and head more to the right, but that never happened.
It was serious exposure and solid class 4 climbing for the entire ridge. I met up with the regular class 4 route here, just before the false summit. This area has much more exposure than it looks, and is both the most difficult climbing and also the end of the difficult climbing. This picture (below) doesn’t do the exposure justice: The dirt pyramid on the bottom is a 15 foot drop from where I was standing, and actually where two gullies meet, each dropping down on either side to an unclimbable area. I wish I had better pictures of the exposure, but honestly this was all class 4 and I needed my phone in my pocket and my hands gripping the rocks at all times.
After navigating this area (to the left) I was quickly deposited at a false summit, with a great view of Mount Evans B
And Dyer’s false summit
Dyer Mountain was the closer 13er, but I didn’t want to summit it twice today. I’d intended on making this hike a loop, and Mount Evans B was my next goal. Unfortunately, there isn’t much beta on the ridge between Mount Evans B and Dyer Mountain. From where I was it looked doable, and I know it’s been done in the past, so I kept on my helmet and headed towards the ridge.
Here’s the route I took
I followed the ridge crest most of the way, only once or twice navigating to the left or right around some large boulders. This is a class 3 move where I hugged the wall as I traversed a crack in the rock. (There’s another picture later in the report that shows the other side of this wall and my route)
As you can imagine, climbing after point 13,383 is the crux of the route, but it stays at a class 3
After the most difficult climbing is over it’s a class 2 hike up the ledge
To a long grassy slope to the summit
I summited at 8:55am
VIDEO: Mount Evans B:
It was an absolutely beautiful day! Besides the wind it was perfect. Here’s a look back on the way I’d come, and the way I’d now need to retrace my steps to summit Dyer.
Here’s a look back on the Dyer/Mount Evans B Ridge
And the route I took
Here’s the class 3 part and the way I navigated around it
I decided not to re-summit point 13,383 but instead cut it to the right.
And headed up to the Dyer Mountain ridge and followed the ridge to the summit
As I ascended the ridge the rocks became loose and mixed with unstable gravel, but it was navigable.
Here’s a look at Dyer Mountain from the ridge
I summited at 10am
Dyer Mountain:
My next goal was Gemini, and then a trek over to Mt Sherman, and finally make it a loop back down to Iowa Gulch.
I made it about halfway down towards the Gemini/Dyer saddle, almost to the radio towers, when I pulled out my phone to take a picture and looked at the time. 10:10am! Whoops! I needed to turn back! Looking at my intended route there was no way I could hike the mile up to Gemini, .7 miles across to Sherman, and 2.5 miles back down to the trailhead before noon. Hmph! I was a bit mad at my circumstances, mainly because it was an absolutely beautiful day and I wasn’t even beginning to get tired. But I reminded myself in another few months my youngest would have her license and I’d rarely see her again (I know, it happened with my older two), so I’d better get a hustle on and enjoy the time I still have with her now. Besides, I’ve already summited Sherman, and combining it with Gemini would make for a good winter climb. I’d be back.
I was in a weird spot on the mountain when this realization occurred. I’m not entirely sure why, but instead of just heading towards the basin I cut across the mountain to the south, trying to link up with the south slope route off of Dyer Mountain. I hadn’t realized there wasn’t any established trail off the mountain, but did as soon as I linked back up with the route. Traversing back was time consuming through very large, loose rocks. Several microwave sized rocks slid below me, doing their best to take me with them.
As soon as I reconnected with the correct ridge I just aimed towards the road in the basin and the towers. It’s important to link up with the road in the correct place because otherwise you’ll end up needing to cross a drainage area
I saw some pretty amazing rocks on the way down
Once I met up with the road I followed it back to my truck. Here’s a look at the upper Iowa Gulch Trailhead
And where I parked my truck at the lower Iowa Gulch Trailhead
I made it back to my truck at 11:40am, making this a 7.5 mile hike/climb with 3350’ in elevation gain in 6.5 hours.
Relive it here: Dyer Mountain
I made it home in time to pick up my daughter from school, take her to ice skating lessons, make dinner, and then headed over watch one of my Girl Scouts cheer at her High School Homecoming Football game, making this a very long day, but totally worth it!
RT Length: 10.9 miles
Elevation Gain: 3352’
I didn’t want to get up when my alarm went off at 2am. I really didn’t. I rarely ever want to get up when my alarm rings, but today I was extra tired. I really wanted that extra sleep. I reminded myself while it’s typically difficult waking up early for a hike, I always thank myself for it later. So I dawdled and took extra time getting ready, trying to wake myself up. It was supposed to snow last night and there was as 40% chance of snow today, so I dressed in triple layers of pants and double jackets (necessary for me, not for most people). I also had 3 different pairs of gloves.
I drove to the trailhead and actually stopped at a gas station for 20 minutes to sleep for a bit before continuing on: I was more tired than I thought! I felt great after that quick cat nap though.
I finally made it to the trailhead at 5am and was ready to go by 5:15am. Already I could tell this was going to be a much different adventure than when I was here last March and the area was covered in feet of snow (https://wildwandererlmc.wordpress.com/2018/03/31/wheeler-lake-12168/). I’d had to turn back at the lake on that trip, but I’d learned a lot! Today the gate was open all the way to the mill, and there wasn’t any snow to be seen anywhere (in the dark that is). The road in is a 2WD dirt road all the way to the mill
There’s plenty of parking all along the way. I chose to park by the mill (the ‘lot’ there holds about 7 vehicles).
Here are some pictures of the Magnolia Mill, which I swear is going to collapse any minute…
Don’t go past the mill unless you have a heavily modified 4×4 vehicle. You will get stuck. Here are some pictures of the 4×4 road in
And one of a truck getting stuck on my way out
You can follow the 4×4 road all the way to Wheeler Lake: it’s about 3 miles. Wow! Was this a different experience than the snow-covered road I’d encountered back in March! Back then I wasn’t even aware there was a road… I kept looking for trails. It was obvious from my hike today I’d been way off route earlier this year. Way off. And the road had to be under a good 5 feet of snow at the time because these willows which were taller than me now were only about 6 inches high last time I was here. I’d gone in circles in the blowing snow trying to route find my way to the lake (and back). Today was a breeze!
I kept thinking to myself: those rocks are going to be a bugger to hike over on the way back down (they were).
What a difference the season makes! One bad part about no snow? The road was pretty much a river most of the way. Most of the areas of road covered in water had side trails going through the willows so you didn’t need to walk directly through the mud puddles, which I’m sure added to my route confusion in the snow as well.
Oh, but it was still early morning and I was hiking through all of this at night…
It’s about a 3 mile hike from the Mill to Wheeler Lake. I made it to the lake just as the sun began to rise (and thought back on how difficult this trudge had been in snowshoes: there were actual spots that had had exposure with all the snow and I’d been fearful I’d slip and slide down the mountain. Not so today.)
This is where the route ends and the creativity begins. Hike around the lake to the left about ¾ of the way around. You’ll notice an unmarked path left and up a drainage. (There’s no trail, make your own)
I turned back to watch the sunrise and take a Colorado Flag picture of the lake…
There are a lot of mines in the area. I counted at least 6
When you get to the top of the drainage you’ll find yourself in a small basin.
I tried to stay higher up to the right, and this ended up being a mistake: Stick to the middle, go up the area with small ponds and waterfalls, and head west.
I was trying not to lose my elevation gain, but all I ended up doing was complicating things with lots of rocks, slowing me down.
So my route had steeper elevation, lots of loose rocks and scree, and was thus very slow going. I rounded the corner and kept heading northwest. Finally I was able to see the summit! If you’re hiking this too you can breathe a sigh of relief now: the worst of the hike is over (yes, even if you’re doing all 3 summits)
As I rounded the slope the rocks became slippery: everything in the shadows (west) had a thin layer of frost covering it (slippery!)
I gained the ridge and followed it to the summit of Clinton Peak.
I turned back and looked at the way I’d come: that had been a steep climb!
From Traver Peak, here’s a view of the route I took (solid line) versus the one I should have taken (dotted line)
I summited at 8:30am. Here’s proof I summited
VIDEO:
There were a lot of active mines in the area west of the peak and below as well
The rest of the route before me was very straightforward. It was class 2 ‘climbing’, following the ridge.
There were a few large rocks to contend with, but nothing class 3, and all avoidable if you went down the ridge a bit (go left (east) to avoid frost).
There were also small bits of snow, but nothing that got in the way or wasn’t easily avoidable
I couldn’t help but think as I reached the saddle of Clinton/McNamee how much easier this hike would have been to just continue straight all the way through the basin up to this saddle. It would have added maybe a mile to the hike (maybe) but also made the elevation gain so much simpler to deal with! I’m sure it would have cut my time down at least an hour.
The path to McNamee was about half a mile and easy to follow. I summited at 9am
VIDEO
There was a lot of mining trash on this summit!
Here’s the rest of the route to Traver Peak
Here’s a picture from the McNamee/Traver saddle looking back on the route so far
Summiting Traver was just a little more difficult than McNamee, but as long as I stuck to the ridge I was just fine (class 2). There were a couple of places I intentionally made it a class 3 climb, but they were completely unnecessary.
There was also a metal trash can full of rocks on the ridge?
I summited at 9:30am
VIDEO
There had been a light dusting on DeCaLiBron the night before
Ok, now it was time to head down. I turned east and looked at my route before me. All I had to do was follow the ridge down and head for Wheeler Lake. It was quite simple really
About ¼ of the way down the ridge I found this survey marker
And halfway down the ridge I saw a large cairn. Or at least that’s what I thought it was until I saw the stone with writing and a date. I couldn’t make out the writing, but the year is clearly 1881. When I got home I looked it up online, and couldn’t find any information about a possible grave/death/etc. It looks like a cairn grave to me (think Oatman family?). Thoughts?
The ridge was easy to follow with medium sized, mostly stable rocks. I couldn’t help but think how much easier it would have been to have done this hike in reverse, instead coming up the east ridge of Traver and down Clinton. My advice to anyone doing this hike: HIKE IT IN REVERSE. Or go up the McNamee/Clinton saddle, over to Clinton, and then back to McNamee and Traver. That trek up Clinton’s south slope is a bugger! And from what I experienced on the easy way down Traver, totally avoidable and unnecessary.
In any event, the cairn is clearly visible from a ways away. It’s a good marker to look for (especially if you’re hiking this in reverse). When I made it to the cairn I headed down the basin, over large rocks and some grassy areas. Before the bottom of the basin I was greeted with some large boulders. I didn’t have to climb down them… but I did.
Here’s the route I took. I obviously could have avoided the boulders by sticking to the north. (Note, this is NOT Wheeler Lake, but a small pond in the middle basin).
All morning and afternoon the weather had been perfect! The skies were clear and I’d way overdressed (no worries, this is better than the alternative). The basin was beautiful, and I got to thinking: Life for me has been extremely difficult in the past and I’ve been through some dreadful things no one should ever have to go through, but today, life is good. I mean really, really good! I’m the happiest I’ve been in years, my kids are all amazing and doing amazing things with their lives, I get to hike every Friday, I paid off my truck this month (woohoo! This means I’m debt free!), and I’ve now completed 28 13ers (think I can hit 30 by my birthday on the 18th?). I was in a great mood, and so glad I decided to go hiking today! (See? I told myself so!)
Here’s where the hike became beautiful. As I was exiting the basin and aiming towards Wheeler Lake I was able to notice all the fall colors. Here’s a look at the North side of Lincoln (14er)
And a look back down on Wheeler Lake
I passed by the waterfall and skirted the lake
Here is where I met back up with the road again. The 3 miles out would have been easier and much faster without all those rocks in the road, but at least route finding was easy!
I made it back to my truck around 12:15pm, making this a 10.9 mile hike with 3300’ in elevation gain in 7 hours with lots of summit time.
The fall colors are starting to change early this year. The drive through Alma was unexpectedly beautiful!
Here’s another look at the peaks
Oh, and I’m still working on the GPX thing. Here’s the link to STRAVA: https://www.strava.com/activities/1825871164
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 28th. 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
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.
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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:
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!
Wild Wanderer 