| Report Type | Full |
| Peak(s) |
Castle Peak - 14,274 feet |
| Date Posted | 04/03/2016 |
| Date Climbed | 06/21/2015 |
| Author | Tim A |
| Dreaming of Couloirs Part 4:Breaching the Castle (NF Couloir Ascent/Glissade) |
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In June of 2013, I made my first "attempt" on Castle Peak, driving to Aspen the long way and passing through Glenwood Springs and making the near-fatal mistake of eating dinner at Taco Bell there. I woke up in camp a few hours later with what can only be described as gastric trauma and needless to say, didn't head any further up Castle Creek road. In June of 2014, I returned, making better dietary choices and partnering up with someone from this site. Somehow we got off the road on the pre-dawn approach and found ourselves doing some sketch class 2 moves on the loosest crap I'd ever experienced, and as we realized our error and tried to navigate out of the basin back to the road, I slipped and twisted my ankle something awful. That not only knocked me out of the attempt for that day, but put a stop to all my climbing for about three weeks while I waited for my foot and ankle to go back to a normal size so they could fit into my boots. Fast forward to June of 2015. Still without an Elk summit, and working on a couloir high from the past week, I found some new partners on this site and agreed to make an attempt on Castle view the NF couloir for the 21st of June. I drove over to Aspen early that morning from a campsite near the TH for Elbert's East Ridge, previous experience showing me that there aren't many spots to camp if all you have is 2WD. After stopping on Independence Pass at around 2am and admiring the chilly morning and the clear skies, I continued down the other side into the Elks and dodged a few porcupines sitting in the middle of the road before pulling into Aspen. As I pulled into town, there was dozens of people in small groups walking around town laughing and carrying on, and for a brief sleepy moment I was confused as to what the hell was going on. I was almost all the way through town before it occurred to me that these people were shutting down the bars in Aspen and stumbling home to their hotels and apartments. Several groups of people stumbled into the road in front of me and I patiently waited for the ladies in heels to traverse the tricky asphalt terrain, smiling at the thought that all of us out there were only semi-conscious, just for different reasons. I finally and sleepily pulled up to the end of the paved Castle Creek Road at around 3am and began hiking up the road, looking for the vehicle I was told to look for at one of the pullout camp-spots just before the creek. I found them around 330am finishing their packs and we did the awkward new partner dance before taking off up the road. Remarkably, we got off track in the same place as I had the previous year. There's a point where the road veers hard to the right that we missed, despite knowing how it happened the previous year. The road, under snow and running water, is hard to follow in the dark, and we again found ourselves hopping from one side of the "road" to the other over the rapidly widening creek which raged through the boulders and talus. We got far enough off route before coming to the natural conclusion that this couldn't possibly be the road, and about the time the lightening sky showed us we were deep in Montezuma Basin with the road sitting far above us to the northeast. After a tedious and profane-infused slog up loose choss, we made our way back to the road, and then moved very quickly from there. I felt like a moron for missing that turn on the road a second time. It shouldn't require a navigation skills class to follow a road in the snow, but apparently I need the instruction. The views of the Elks in the morning light quickly reinvigorated us as we continued higher up the road.    We eventually came to the headwall leading to the basin between Castle and Conundrum and worked our way up. There were enough steps pushed into the slope that we didn't need traction for it, and once in the basin, we stashed snowshoes near a pile of boulders (again, I never put them on) and worked across the frozen snow surface towards the base of Castle.    Working our way over the tarn, I looked up at Castle at long last, after years of dread associated with it (and with the Elks in general). We could hear rockfall bounding down from the north face and so sat down at a healthy distance from the runout near the tarn to put on helmets and crampons. Even though I've read about it and prepared for it, there's always a spooky sensation when you're looking at a mountain with nobody on it and watching missiles come flying down. This castle wouldn't be stormed without defending itself. There was avy debris throughout the basin as well, but only a small amount coming down the couloir, and it appeared very old.      With that, we took off, myself taking the middle. The snow was utter perfection, and as the video shows, I alternated following different sets of steps already kicked in from another group versus kicking in my own steps. I stuck to climber's left of the couloir, but far enough out to avoid rockfall coming off the edge. The left side also remained in the shade for much of the morning, and there was a world of difference in that snow versus just a few feet to the right where the snow was baking. Our lead climber, out about 20-30ft above me and on the right side of the couloir, seemed to enjoy the challenge of kicking in his own steps on the mushier snow. I'm not such a purist: as long as I'm on a snow route, I'm having a good time. The third member of our group was doing this as his first snow climb, and he brought up the rear. All told, this put me in a great place to get cool pictures of climbers from both above and below as we ascended the couloir.       As each member of the group fell into their individual pace, I pulled ahead, taking advantage of the line already in place. Eventually it ran out and I kicked my own steps for the last 200' or so to the ridgeline. The views when looking back are extraordinary.   I ran into a climber at the top of the couloir who was on his way down, having climbed the standard route that morning. He had an axe and was contemplating glissading down the couloir to save him a laborious descent of the ridge. His partner, feeling stronger, had traversed over to Conundrum and would meet him in the basin by the tarn. Apart from these two climbers and a skier we had watched ascending the Conundrum couloir all morning, we had the entire area to ourselves. I strongly cautioned him against glissading down at that hour (it was around 830am) as the snow was still very firm, even in the sun, and the angle being so steep means that getting out of control is very easy. I planned on glissading down the couloir, but in about an hour, when the snow had cooked more and would be softer and make arresting easier.  Once the battlements are breached by the couloir, it's a short ridge-walk to reach the citadel and highpoint of Castle. The exposure on the right side is dramatic while ascending this part of the ridge, while on the left the angle is slightly more mellow, but lots of obvious slab debris serve as stark reminders of the necessity of not straying off the top of the ridge. I put my cameras away for this traverse so the following images are pulled from the GoPro compilation.    To be entirely honest, the summit views from Castle, after having stood on Huron and Sneffles within the last ten days, were much less spectacular. Sure, the Titans of the Elk range stand just off to the northwest, but perhaps because of all the snowmelt and the lack of clouds casting shadows, I wasn't filled with the same sense of awe at the scope of this range as I thought I'd be. Still, summit views are still nice, and this being my third attempt on this mountain, it felt good to reach the top and stand on my first Elk 14er.        None of us was in any hurry to descend, and none of us had any real plans to traverse over and bag Conundrum. I knew I wanted to come back to this basin next year to do it by the couloir, so we lingered in the beautiful weather on the summit for about half an hour before beginning the descent. While lounging on the summit, we saw the guy we'd met at the top of the couloir glissade down the couloir, and he appeared to be fine as he reached the basin. Headed down at around 930, the snow on the ridge was very slippery and mushy, and I lost my footing several times or postholed to the waist, in a less than reassuring place to have this happen.   Once back at the top of the couloir, we split up. Our "leader" wanted to descend the SR ridgeline to make an aesthetic circuit of castle, while I wanted to glissade the couloir with the other guy. We parted ways and hung out around the top of the couloir for another twenty minutes as the snow was still very hard. Ultimately growing impatient, we began working down the couloir in short bursts of speed. As the video footage shows, this glissade was rotten until the lower half. The snow was icy, bumpy, and difficult to arrest on, so I avoided building any kind of momentum as I worked my way down. I was pretty sketched out by how difficult it was to get the pick into the icy snow, but as I got lower the snow warmed up and I eventually got into a groove and could open up the throttle as the angle eased near the apron of the couloir. Once my partner came down, we hustled over to the headwall and waited a few minutes for our third member to come off the ridge. While there, we re-met the guy we'd seen at the top of the couloir, and he was pretty beat up, with lots of cuts on his face and his pants pretty much shredded. He wasn't talking much and seemed kind of dazed and in shock. His partner, who had glissaded down the saddle, told us he he lost control coming down the Castle couloir and roughed himself up. It was pretty humbling knowing we'd done the same thing just a half hour later. Were I to do it over, I would probably wait another hour before dropping down, or traverse over to the more sunny strip of snow coming down from the saddle and slide down that, which I know was softer given it's aspect. Downclimbing is always an option, but I prefer to be gentle on my knees and avoid that if possible. When our group was reunited, we restowed our snowshoes and glissaded down the headwall, which was in perfect condition for it. You can really build up some speed coming down that with the angle being so moderate and the runout completely safe. Once the angle eased off, the deathmarch down Castle Creek road began. We passed numerous parties just starting up the headwall and coming up the road, and while the weather looked to be holding, the snow certainly wasn't, and I didn't envy their postholing. We plunge-stepped down the road until the snow ran out and then began the long walk out, passing a Rubicon high on the road and wishing it was ours.  Our group leader broke off from us a little ways down the road to add Malamute Pk to his quarry for the day, so that when we got down to his vehicle two miles up the road, I couldn't ride the last few miles down but had to hike all the way back to the 2WD TH. I didn't feel as guilty during those final miles about poaching the bootpack up the lower half of the couloir. The nice thing about the pre-dawn approach is that you get to marvel at the scenery for the first time on your way out.       I can't compare the couloir to the SR, but I will say that I prefer solid snow to kick steps in over loose chossy rock any day. Looking forward to return to Montezuma Basin next June to grab Conundrum. Hopefully I'll stay on the road during the approach next time. Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):
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