Wilson Peak Trip Report 06/19/2015

Report Type	Full
Peak(s)	Wilson Peak - 14,021 feet
Date Posted	06/19/2015
Modified	06/25/2015
Date Climbed	06/09/2015
Author	moneymike

When Mr. Wilson Speaks to You...
I awoke at 1 am and looked out the window from the back of my SUV. My ski partner wasn't there. This was a problem, since my intended ski line would likely involve rope work. I began considering plan B's as I laid back down. Should I attempt a solo mission? Should I drive back down the mountain and head over to the Silver Pick trailhead and get a later start on the west face? Should I ski something else like Gladstone? I wondered to myself. Then the call came. My partner, Jesse, had just gotten off the highway and needed directions up the mountain to the 9,700' Bilk Basin trailhead, where I had spent the night. After nine hours of driving from Fort Collins, Jesse finally made it to the trailhead. We geared up and hit the trail around 3:00 a.m., an hour later than we wanted to start. We needed to move fast. We made quick work of the first couple miles to the old 4wd trailhead that Dawson mentions in his guide book (this th is no longer accessible by vehicle). About two miles in, and just above 10,000' elevation, the trail disappeared. I noticed a reflective sign on the other side of the river and figured we needed to cross over. There was clearly no bridge, and attempting to wade through the torrent would have been suicide. Time was ticking faster than I thought it would. I began to doubt the success of this mission. "I found a way across the river" Jesse shouted. I couldn't believe it, but when I went down to investigate, I could see he was right. A massive log jam provided a route across the river. My spirits picked up, but we both agreed we were pressed for time and needed to find a way to make up for our lost time. We pressed on. We hoped the southern exposure of the trail would mean a snow free route to tree line. We were wrong. We were faced with the dreaded spring time snow, dirt, snow, dirt, snow dirt approach. By the time we found ourselves wallowing crotch deep in the snow patches, we were forced to switch to skins. Skis on, skis off, skis on, skis off. This is how we proceeded for the next two thousand vertical feet. We definitely felt like we were taking it in the backcountry...if you know what I mean. I was about 80% convinced that we were going to be too late and would have to turn around when the snow softened to unacceptable levels. But since we were not in danger yet, the 20% uncertainty gave us reason to press on. We made it to tree line just in time to see the alpenglow on Wilson Peak's south face. "Some people see a happy face on Wilson's south face" I told Jesse. "I only see a sad face." "I agree" Jesse responded. "I'm seeing a very angry face, in fact." "Why so sad Mr. Wilson?" I asked aloud. Suddenly, in a loud and booming voice, the mountain spoke back to me. "No body likes to ski my south face" Mr. Wilson replied. "Everyone wants to ski the north east face but not this one. And to make matters worse, when they're done skiing my north east face, they celebrate by drinking a Coors. A Coors, for @#$% sake! Every other fourteener is celebrated with a craft beer or local micro brew, but people who ski me, celebrate with a god damned Coors!" "Don't worry Mr. Wilson," I replied in an attempt to console him. "Jesse and I don't drink Coors. If you allow us to ski your south face, we will celebrate with delicious craft beers. Would that make you happy Mr. Wilson?" "Yes. Yes I think that would." And so we continued up the bowl on our way to the base of the cliffs on Wilson Peak's south face. Photo credit: Jesse The snow pack was a frozen, supportable, mature spring time snow pack. Jesse and I were both thinking the same thing as we skinned above tree line...this mature snow pack is waaaaay better than the unconsolidated immature snow pack we dealt with in the Elk mountains. Mature San Juan snow pack Not so mature Elk snow pack The day's plan was conceived after viewing the following beta shot I took from the south on a Gladstone Peak ski trip a month earlier. It looks like there is a snow/ice route through the rock band. This was where we were heading. It wasn't until we were right at the base of the cliffs before we could see that there was no snow or ice in the gully through the cliff band. Just rock. The rock in this gully could be climbed but it had been smoothed by millennia of water draining the south face couloir. It didn't seem like we would be able to place any of our cams or slings. I spotted an alternative route through the rock band to looker's right of the gully. We were behind schedule and agreed that we needed to move through the rock band quickly and climb fast up the snow. Jesse leading the first pitch Jesse above the cliff band Unfortunately, this is not how it worked out. The rock was extremely loose. Jesse led the first pitch and was only able to place two slings for protection. A lot of time was lost. Too much time was lost, and without a miracle, we would have to turn around to avoid the consequences of a rapidly heating snow pack. But just then, a miracle happened. Mr. Wilson spoke to us again. "Money Mike and Jesse, I want you two to ski my south face and celebrate with a craft beer." And right before our eyes, the baking sun disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds. A cool breeze blew, and we had been blessed with more time. We climbed up a snow slope and then climbed up and over a rock rib to get into the proper couloir. Up we went. Mike in the proper couloir with the rock rib in the background. Photo: Jesse Mike. Photo: Jesse "Mr. Wilson?" Jesse asked aloud, while looking up to the sky. "If you continue to bless us with cool conditions, and allow us to ski your south face, would you like us to name this couloir the Craft Couloir?" Mr. Wilson and I both laughed. "Yes, I would like that, Jesse" Mr. Wilson responded. Jesse on a snowy ridge Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse, Gladstone, Mt. Wilson, El Diente We made the summit by 11 a.m. Normally this would be way too late to be skiing this aspect, this time of year, with the forecast we had. But Mr. Wilson had smiled upon us. The snow was soft, but supportable. The slough was very manageable. Down we went. Mike. Photo: Jesse Mike dropping in. Photo: Jesse Jesse waiting to descend Jesse dropping in. Photo: Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse Jesse on rappel Jesse giving thanks to Mr. Wilson Our line Jesse making turns on the way out Celebrating Mr. Wilson in proper form. Photo: Jesse Photo credit: Mike Photo credit: Jesse Photo credit: Jesse Thanks to Jesse "Body Movin" Levine for helping me out with this trip and for the pics (@reelmotion on Instagram) Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

When Mr. Wilson Speaks to You...

I awoke at 1 am and looked out the window from the back of my SUV. My ski partner wasn't there. This was a problem, since my intended ski line would likely involve rope work. I began considering plan B's as I laid back down. Should I attempt a solo mission? Should I drive back down the mountain and head over to the Silver Pick trailhead and get a later start on the west face? Should I ski something else like Gladstone? I wondered to myself.

Then the call came. My partner, Jesse, had just gotten off the highway and needed directions up the mountain to the 9,700' Bilk Basin trailhead, where I had spent the night. After nine hours of driving from Fort Collins, Jesse finally made it to the trailhead.

We geared up and hit the trail around 3:00 a.m., an hour later than we wanted to start. We needed to move fast.

We made quick work of the first couple miles to the old 4wd trailhead that Dawson mentions in his guide book (this th is no longer accessible by vehicle). About two miles in, and just above 10,000' elevation, the trail disappeared. I noticed a reflective sign on the other side of the river and figured we needed to cross over.

There was clearly no bridge, and attempting to wade through the torrent would have been suicide. Time was ticking faster than I thought it would. I began to doubt the success of this mission.

"I found a way across the river" Jesse shouted.

I couldn't believe it, but when I went down to investigate, I could see he was right. A massive log jam provided a route across the river. My spirits picked up, but we both agreed we were pressed for time and needed to find a way to make up for our lost time.

We pressed on. We hoped the southern exposure of the trail would mean a snow free route to tree line. We were wrong. We were faced with the dreaded spring time snow, dirt, snow, dirt, snow dirt approach.

By the time we found ourselves wallowing crotch deep in the snow patches, we were forced to switch to skins. Skis on, skis off, skis on, skis off. This is how we proceeded for the next two thousand vertical feet. We definitely felt like we were taking it in the backcountry...if you know what I mean.

I was about 80% convinced that we were going to be too late and would have to turn around when the snow softened to unacceptable levels. But since we were not in danger yet, the 20% uncertainty gave us reason to press on.

We made it to tree line just in time to see the alpenglow on Wilson Peak's south face.

"Some people see a happy face on Wilson's south face" I told Jesse. "I only see a sad face."

"I agree" Jesse responded. "I'm seeing a very angry face, in fact."

"Why so sad Mr. Wilson?" I asked aloud.

Suddenly, in a loud and booming voice, the mountain spoke back to me.

"No body likes to ski my south face" Mr. Wilson replied. "Everyone wants to ski the north east face but not this one. And to make matters worse, when they're done skiing my north east face, they celebrate by drinking a Coors. A Coors, for @#$% sake! Every other fourteener is celebrated with a craft beer or local micro brew, but people who ski me, celebrate with a god damned Coors!"

"Don't worry Mr. Wilson," I replied in an attempt to console him. "Jesse and I don't drink Coors. If you allow us to ski your south face, we will celebrate with delicious craft beers. Would that make you happy Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes. Yes I think that would."

And so we continued up the bowl on our way to the base of the cliffs on Wilson Peak's south face.

The snow pack was a frozen, supportable, mature spring time snow pack. Jesse and I were both thinking the same thing as we skinned above tree line...this mature snow pack is waaaaay better than the unconsolidated immature snow pack we dealt with in the Elk mountains.

The day's plan was conceived after viewing the following beta shot I took from the south on a Gladstone Peak ski trip a month earlier.

It looks like there is a snow/ice route through the rock band. This was where we were heading.

It wasn't until we were right at the base of the cliffs before we could see that there was no snow or ice in the gully through the cliff band. Just rock.

The rock in this gully could be climbed but it had been smoothed by millennia of water draining the south face couloir. It didn't seem like we would be able to place any of our cams or slings.

I spotted an alternative route through the rock band to looker's right of the gully. We were behind schedule and agreed that we needed to move through the rock band quickly and climb fast up the snow.

Unfortunately, this is not how it worked out. The rock was extremely loose. Jesse led the first pitch and was only able to place two slings for protection. A lot of time was lost. Too much time was lost, and without a miracle, we would have to turn around to avoid the consequences of a rapidly heating snow pack.

But just then, a miracle happened. Mr. Wilson spoke to us again. "Money Mike and Jesse, I want you two to ski my south face and celebrate with a craft beer." And right before our eyes, the baking sun disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds. A cool breeze blew, and we had been blessed with more time.

We climbed up a snow slope and then climbed up and over a rock rib to get into the proper couloir. Up we went.

Mike in the proper couloir with the rock rib in the background. Photo: Jesse

"Mr. Wilson?" Jesse asked aloud, while looking up to the sky. "If you continue to bless us with cool conditions, and allow us to ski your south face, would you like us to name this couloir the Craft Couloir?"

Mr. Wilson and I both laughed. "Yes, I would like that, Jesse" Mr. Wilson responded.

We made the summit by 11 a.m. Normally this would be way too late to be skiing this aspect, this time of year, with the forecast we had. But Mr. Wilson had smiled upon us. The snow was soft, but supportable. The slough was very manageable. Down we went.

Celebrating Mr. Wilson in proper form. Photo: Jesse

Thanks to Jesse "Body Movin" Levine for helping me out with this trip and for the pics (@reelmotion on Instagram)

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Comments or Questions

tbonesaredelicious	Nice line 6/20/2015 7:10am Well done, and an awesome write up!
Col_Forbin	Two thumbs up 6/22/2015 6:55am Hell of a line! I don’t think I’ve even seen this aspect of Wilson pk before. Great humor as always. Congrats.
FireOnTheMountain	really neat line 6/22/2015 11:31am I have a feeling the craft would have been enjoyed success or failure though.
Krullin_14ers	killin it 6/22/2015 2:39pm money, another great report – and SICK line
moneymike	Thanks for the comments, everyone. 6/25/2015 4:22pm It WAS a sick line. Well worth the long slog in and out.

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