Huron Peak Trip Report 04/03/2016

Report Type	Full
Peak(s)	Huron Peak - 14,006 feet
Date Posted	04/03/2016
Date Climbed	06/13/2015
Author	Tim A

Dreaming of Couloirs Part 1: Sawatch
I started this series of TRs last summer but never got around to finishing them. Hopefully this at least provides some additional reading for any parties planning on these peaks in the next few months, even if they're worthless as far as current conditions. Hoping this year we get an actual spring and don't watch the transition from winter to summer happen overnight like in 2015... As with most of my other trip reports, this text and picture set is more of a supplement for my video compilation, which I'm stronger at editing and compiling than pictures and text. When I drove up to CO from Texas to spend my third consecutive summer camping and climbing in the Rockies, I imagined that by the 13th of June I'd have at least 4 or 5 couloir ascents of peaks, roughly a third of the way to my goal of 15 couloir climbs before "spring" ended. My interest in standard routes by my third year of "14er-bagging" had been entirely lost. My preference has always been for more challenging and quieter routes, and I'd gradually acquired the gear and experience to safely climb these routes over the previous seasons. I love the peaks with snow on them: it makes them seem bigger, more imposing, and more challenging, and I feel like I'm working towards an authentic mountain summit and not just walking up a hill. The best laid of plans.. By June 12, I was 0/5 on summit attempts, including three failed attempts on Columbia back to back to back. The June weather in CO this year (2015) was horrible. The loads of snow dumped in May were being boiled by hot temperatures (the high in BV was regularly around 85-90), alternating regularly with afternoon thunderstorms dumping large amounts of rain on the slopes. After a failed attempt on Ellingwood via C2 and South Zapata Falls, I had resolved to just pick a mountain and lay siege to it, relentlessly going after it until I succeeded. Columbia was my pick, having spied the incredibly deep inset couloir during a winterish climb of Yale a few months prior, and wanting to avoid Columbia's standard route. Three days in a row, I woke up at 3am in camp, just east of the TH for Horn Fork basin, and did the approach to the peak, and three days in a row I turned around before entering the couloir. The first day, I plunged through some snow into running water in the drainage coming from the couloir, and despite having a backup pair of dry socks, my boots were soaked. My second day, with my backup pair of boots, it rained hard around 4am, while I was on the approach, and I knew the couloir wouldn't be safe to climb with liquid water running under the snow. The third day, I finally reached the apron, but even at 530am, the snow was punchy, unsupportive, and very wet, the results of a warm night and heavily overcast sky, and rain earlier that night. Sometimes, the mountain just doesn't want to be climbed. I ignored the fact that people successfully summited this peak by it's standard route on dry, crappy rock each of these three days. Not interested in that anymore. If I can't get the mountain on snow or some more aesthetic route, I'll just wait. It didn't help that I'd been reading Joe Tasker's "Everest-The Hard Way" on my kindle in camp each day, reinforcing my sentiments about avoiding standard routes just "because I can." I thought the weather was supposed to wait until July to be this ugly every day. A friend invited me out on his day off to do La Plata via the standard route. Frustrated with my lack of success on snow routes so far and with the forecast remaining the same (hot days, warm nights), I resigned myself to "something less." That trip, too, didn't work out for me, as I wasn't feeling well once above treeline and decided to turn around and descend just before gaining the ridge. All of this led to me deciding to revisit Huron, which was my fourth 14er summit from several years prior, and still my favorite for the beauty of the approach and the views. Having climbed it in late spring a few years prior by the standard route, I wanted this time to catch it "whiter" with more snow this season and take a direct line up the north face, which I hoped would still have a continuous line of snow from the basin north of the peak. Perhaps the northern-aspect of the face would mean the snow would be less wet. If the snow was unsupportive, I would suck it up and just repeat the standard route. How quickly we abandon our ideals when we just need a fix of summit views. June 12, I woke up in camp to no stars in the sky, and a light mist falling. I hoped it would burn off and drove to Winfield, as high as my 2WD vehicle can go, and then hustled up to the upper TH, covering those two miles in about 25 minutes. I'd gotten good at roaring through relatively flat approaches the past two weeks of disappointments and was eager to get higher today. The sunrise at around 5am revealed stark-looking weather, and as I worked up the switchbacks, the rain again blew in, gradually getting harder and harder. Having already climbed Huron before, I knew the views were exceptional and they were in fact the entire reason I was repeating the mountain, to lift my spirits after what could only be described candidly as a disorienting two weeks in the state. From the upper TH. Getting darker with the passage of time. I decided to descend and try again the next day. I did get some great pictures of that area of the Sawatch looking very Jurassic Worldish with the rainforest-like cloud and mists floating over everything. About the time I decided to call it off for this day. From the hike back out to Winfield. Looking west from near Clear Creek. Probably a few raptors somewhere in there. To have disappointment after disappointment accrue, one is tempted by thoughts of abandoning this self-imposed lifestyle of seclusion in the mountains and joining my Texas friends drinking on beaches along the Gulf coast for the remainder of summer. That moment you arrive back at camp or car and it's only 7 or 8am, day after day of failures, with the forecast remaining the same for the next week, is very depressing. Fortunately, the following day, June 13, fortune was with me. I awoke at the usual 3am time near Winfield, and had decided that if I couldn't see stars, I would sleep in and try again another day. It gets old getting rained on pre-dawn more than a few times in a week and I was finished having those lousy experiences. When the alarm went off, my groggy self actually wished for an overcast sky so I could justify to myself sleeping in and spending another dull day in camp, but as I unzipped the door and poked my head out, I could see countless stars. A good omen. I dragged out the morning routine, still not really committed to attempting the effort and waiting for rain to roll through like it always had. Eventually though, I got myself back to Winfield and hustled up to the 4WD TH, where the peaks hidden by mist the previous morning were basking in morning Alpenglow. The sky was completely clear, and I felt like this might finally be my day. From the upper 4WD TH. What a difference a day makes. Alpenglow replaces fog this particular morning. The switchbacks up Huron went much quicker than when I hiked them two years previously. Thank God for Steve House's manual, and for my training more appropriately at lower intensities for much of the winter in the flats of Texas. Near the last switchback, snow patches grew more consistent and I ended up postholing through several of them as I pushed upward. The views were even better than I remembered as the Apostles came into view. The more snow in this area, the better the scenery. I'd love to grab Huron in full-on winter some year, if I can stomach the long approach. Three Apostles. Can't have too many pictures of these peaks. When you break out of treeline on this particular peak, the views are just outstanding. Even in the Rockies where beauty is commonplace, this place is something particularly special. Working into the basin, I could see a good bootpack leading towards the standard route, and after establishing that it supported me, I stashed my snowshoes near some boulders and took off, power-walking along the trail. As the trail came closer to the slopes just northeast of Huron which the standard route moves toward, I left it and headed straight south, making for a continuous line of snow which went to the summit, and looked about as steep as the Christo Couloir, which I'd completed the previous month. There were two lines I was eyeing on the approach, and elected to take what looked to be the steeper (if shorter) line to the left. Red lines are what I wanted; orange is what I ended up doing (standard route+) Ptarmigan on the tundra. As I neared the point where the slope begins angling up, I began hearing the crunching "whoomph", which I hadn't expected to hear again until next winter. Advancing more cautiously, I punched through the snow as chunks of slab broke away from the surface and gently slid down the easy slope. The slab chunks were only about six inches thick and four or five feet across, but it was obvious that ascending this slope wasn't safe. I resigned myself to doing the standard route, finding some irony that in just a few days I'd been turned away from slopes for both wet loose snow and dry slabby snow, only a few miles apart. Aspect makes an incredible difference. I worked my way up the slopes towards Huron's northwest shoulder and saddle with Brown's Pk, and found continuous snowfields leading directly to the saddle. The day, then, wasn't a total loss: I did get to crampon my way up a lengthy snow slope, even if it wasn't as steep as what I was hoping to do. Looking up at the route. I took a line considerably east (climber's left) of the SR. Looking back at the line I took. Alternating taking the steps and trying different crampon techniques to the left of them. Looking back from higher up. Ascending higher and practicing different crampon techniques in the glissade track. Moderate slope angle made for great snow traveling practice. Looking back from near the ridgeline. Near the ridge, the angle slightly increases. Once at the saddle, I removed my crampons and followed short sections of trail which were visible through all the snow. While I planned to just follow this to the summit, I somehow lost the route and contoured too far west. I re-cramponed up and climbed the steepest snow of the day, directly north of the summit, feeling like an authentic mountaineer topping out from a steeper angle than the SR. The elation at a success, even on this "easy" and short repeat, was palpable after so many failures, and I remained on the summit for about half an hour, enjoying half of that time in solitude and then visiting with a pair of climbers who arrived shortly after me. All the wet weather, while ruining many climbs the previous two weeks, contributed to some of the nicest lighting I'd even seen on a 14er summit. It was about 9am and already heavy cumulus clouds were building, casting incredible shadows across the Sawatch and blocking out much of the sun's direct rays. I took dozens of pictures of this familiar view. Again, I can't imagine how this looks in calendar winter after a good dumping. Looking back from near the ridgeline. Summit views facing south, towards the three apostles. Views southwest. Views northwest. Views north. Views east. Building weather to the west. Incredible lighting over the central Sawatch. Hero shot of the next climber topping out onto the summit plateau. Incredible backdrop. Cornice visible once I started down. Massive avy debris under the southeast face of Huron. Zoom of the debris. As the weather continued building and a few more people arrived on the summit, I descended, following the standard route back to the ridge and then retracing my line slightly east of the SR to descend. Normally I would glissade a pristine and low-angle snowfield, but for some reason this day I didn't feel like doing the long hike out with wet pants, so I plunge-stepped my way down the slope, dropping close to 1000' in around 20 minutes. Can't do that mid-summer. I made quick ground back to the upper TH, passing several dozen people in various parties ascending even as the sky darkened. A typical 14er phenomenon I suppose. It got very dark over the peak as I reached Winfield and thunder started rippling over the basin, at just 1130am in mid-June. I thanked God for giving me a six hour window to get a summit in and raise my spirits before the weather again closed in on the Sawatch, and made plans to head south to the San Juan, where a dry spell was forecast for just a few days. Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Dreaming of Couloirs Part 1: Sawatch

I started this series of TRs last summer but never got around to finishing them. Hopefully this at least provides some additional reading for any parties planning on these peaks in the next few months, even if they're worthless as far as current conditions. Hoping this year we get an actual spring and don't watch the transition from winter to summer happen overnight like in 2015...

As with most of my other trip reports, this text and picture set is more of a supplement for my video compilation, which I'm stronger at editing and compiling than pictures and text.

When I drove up to CO from Texas to spend my third consecutive summer camping and climbing in the Rockies, I imagined that by the 13th of June I'd have at least 4 or 5 couloir ascents of peaks, roughly a third of the way to my goal of 15 couloir climbs before "spring" ended. My interest in standard routes by my third year of "14er-bagging" had been entirely lost. My preference has always been for more challenging and quieter routes, and I'd gradually acquired the gear and experience to safely climb these routes over the previous seasons. I love the peaks with snow on them: it makes them seem bigger, more imposing, and more challenging, and I feel like I'm working towards an authentic mountain summit and not just walking up a hill.

The best laid of plans..

By June 12, I was 0/5 on summit attempts, including three failed attempts on Columbia back to back to back. The June weather in CO this year (2015) was horrible. The loads of snow dumped in May were being boiled by hot temperatures (the high in BV was regularly around 85-90), alternating regularly with afternoon thunderstorms dumping large amounts of rain on the slopes. After a failed attempt on Ellingwood via C2 and South Zapata Falls, I had resolved to just pick a mountain and lay siege to it, relentlessly going after it until I succeeded. Columbia was my pick, having spied the incredibly deep inset couloir during a winterish climb of Yale a few months prior, and wanting to avoid Columbia's standard route. Three days in a row, I woke up at 3am in camp, just east of the TH for Horn Fork basin, and did the approach to the peak, and three days in a row I turned around before entering the couloir.

The first day, I plunged through some snow into running water in the drainage coming from the couloir, and despite having a backup pair of dry socks, my boots were soaked.

My second day, with my backup pair of boots, it rained hard around 4am, while I was on the approach, and I knew the couloir wouldn't be safe to climb with liquid water running under the snow.

The third day, I finally reached the apron, but even at 530am, the snow was punchy, unsupportive, and very wet, the results of a warm night and heavily overcast sky, and rain earlier that night.

Sometimes, the mountain just doesn't want to be climbed. I ignored the fact that people successfully summited this peak by it's standard route on dry, crappy rock each of these three days. Not interested in that anymore. If I can't get the mountain on snow or some more aesthetic route, I'll just wait. It didn't help that I'd been reading Joe Tasker's "Everest-The Hard Way" on my kindle in camp each day, reinforcing my sentiments about avoiding standard routes just "because I can."

I thought the weather was supposed to wait until July to be this ugly every day.

A friend invited me out on his day off to do La Plata via the standard route. Frustrated with my lack of success on snow routes so far and with the forecast remaining the same (hot days, warm nights), I resigned myself to "something less." That trip, too, didn't work out for me, as I wasn't feeling well once above treeline and decided to turn around and descend just before gaining the ridge.

All of this led to me deciding to revisit Huron, which was my fourth 14er summit from several years prior, and still my favorite for the beauty of the approach and the views. Having climbed it in late spring a few years prior by the standard route, I wanted this time to catch it "whiter" with more snow this season and take a direct line up the north face, which I hoped would still have a continuous line of snow from the basin north of the peak. Perhaps the northern-aspect of the face would mean the snow would be less wet. If the snow was unsupportive, I would suck it up and just repeat the standard route. How quickly we abandon our ideals when we just need a fix of summit views.

June 12, I woke up in camp to no stars in the sky, and a light mist falling. I hoped it would burn off and drove to Winfield, as high as my 2WD vehicle can go, and then hustled up to the upper TH, covering those two miles in about 25 minutes. I'd gotten good at roaring through relatively flat approaches the past two weeks of disappointments and was eager to get higher today. The sunrise at around 5am revealed stark-looking weather, and as I worked up the switchbacks, the rain again blew in, gradually getting harder and harder. Having already climbed Huron before, I knew the views were exceptional and they were in fact the entire reason I was repeating the mountain, to lift my spirits after what could only be described candidly as a disorienting two weeks in the state.

Getting darker with the passage of time.

I decided to descend and try again the next day. I did get some great pictures of that area of the Sawatch looking very Jurassic Worldish with the rainforest-like cloud and mists floating over everything.

About the time I decided to call it off for this day.

Looking west from near Clear Creek. Probably a few raptors somewhere in there.

To have disappointment after disappointment accrue, one is tempted by thoughts of abandoning this self-imposed lifestyle of seclusion in the mountains and joining my Texas friends drinking on beaches along the Gulf coast for the remainder of summer. That moment you arrive back at camp or car and it's only 7 or 8am, day after day of failures, with the forecast remaining the same for the next week, is very depressing.

Fortunately, the following day, June 13, fortune was with me. I awoke at the usual 3am time near Winfield, and had decided that if I couldn't see stars, I would sleep in and try again another day. It gets old getting rained on pre-dawn more than a few times in a week and I was finished having those lousy experiences. When the alarm went off, my groggy self actually wished for an overcast sky so I could justify to myself sleeping in and spending another dull day in camp, but as I unzipped the door and poked my head out, I could see countless stars. A good omen.

I dragged out the morning routine, still not really committed to attempting the effort and waiting for rain to roll through like it always had. Eventually though, I got myself back to Winfield and hustled up to the 4WD TH, where the peaks hidden by mist the previous morning were basking in morning Alpenglow. The sky was completely clear, and I felt like this might finally be my day.

Alpenglow replaces fog this particular morning.

The switchbacks up Huron went much quicker than when I hiked them two years previously. Thank God for Steve House's manual, and for my training more appropriately at lower intensities for much of the winter in the flats of Texas. Near the last switchback, snow patches grew more consistent and I ended up postholing through several of them as I pushed upward. The views were even better than I remembered as the Apostles came into view. The more snow in this area, the better the scenery. I'd love to grab Huron in full-on winter some year, if I can stomach the long approach.

Can't have too many pictures of these peaks.

When you break out of treeline on this particular peak, the views are just outstanding. Even in the Rockies where beauty is commonplace, this place is something particularly special.

Working into the basin, I could see a good bootpack leading towards the standard route, and after establishing that it supported me, I stashed my snowshoes near some boulders and took off, power-walking along the trail. As the trail came closer to the slopes just northeast of Huron which the standard route moves toward, I left it and headed straight south, making for a continuous line of snow which went to the summit, and looked about as steep as the Christo Couloir, which I'd completed the previous month. There were two lines I was eyeing on the approach, and elected to take what looked to be the steeper (if shorter) line to the left.

Red lines are what I wanted; orange is what I ended up doing (standard route+)

As I neared the point where the slope begins angling up, I began hearing the crunching "whoomph", which I hadn't expected to hear again until next winter. Advancing more cautiously, I punched through the snow as chunks of slab broke away from the surface and gently slid down the easy slope. The slab chunks were only about six inches thick and four or five feet across, but it was obvious that ascending this slope wasn't safe. I resigned myself to doing the standard route, finding some irony that in just a few days I'd been turned away from slopes for both wet loose snow and dry slabby snow, only a few miles apart. Aspect makes an incredible difference.

I worked my way up the slopes towards Huron's northwest shoulder and saddle with Brown's Pk, and found continuous snowfields leading directly to the saddle. The day, then, wasn't a total loss: I did get to crampon my way up a lengthy snow slope, even if it wasn't as steep as what I was hoping to do.

Looking up at the route. I took a line considerably east (climber's left) of the SR.

Alternating taking the steps and trying different crampon techniques to the left of them.

Ascending higher and practicing different crampon techniques in the glissade track.

Moderate slope angle made for great snow traveling practice.

Near the ridge, the angle slightly increases.

Once at the saddle, I removed my crampons and followed short sections of trail which were visible through all the snow. While I planned to just follow this to the summit, I somehow lost the route and contoured too far west. I re-cramponed up and climbed the steepest snow of the day, directly north of the summit, feeling like an authentic mountaineer topping out from a steeper angle than the SR. The elation at a success, even on this "easy" and short repeat, was palpable after so many failures, and I remained on the summit for about half an hour, enjoying half of that time in solitude and then visiting with a pair of climbers who arrived shortly after me.

All the wet weather, while ruining many climbs the previous two weeks, contributed to some of the nicest lighting I'd even seen on a 14er summit. It was about 9am and already heavy cumulus clouds were building, casting incredible shadows across the Sawatch and blocking out much of the sun's direct rays. I took dozens of pictures of this familiar view. Again, I can't imagine how this looks in calendar winter after a good dumping.

Summit views facing south, towards the three apostles.

Incredible lighting over the central Sawatch.

Hero shot of the next climber topping out onto the summit plateau.

Massive avy debris under the southeast face of Huron.

As the weather continued building and a few more people arrived on the summit, I descended, following the standard route back to the ridge and then retracing my line slightly east of the SR to descend. Normally I would glissade a pristine and low-angle snowfield, but for some reason this day I didn't feel like doing the long hike out with wet pants, so I plunge-stepped my way down the slope, dropping close to 1000' in around 20 minutes. Can't do that mid-summer.

I made quick ground back to the upper TH, passing several dozen people in various parties ascending even as the sky darkened. A typical 14er phenomenon I suppose. It got very dark over the peak as I reached Winfield and thunder started rippling over the basin, at just 1130am in mid-June. I thanked God for giving me a six hour window to get a summit in and raise my spirits before the weather again closed in on the Sawatch, and made plans to head south to the San Juan, where a dry spell was forecast for just a few days.

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

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