Download Agreement, Release, and Acknowledgement of Risk:
You (the person requesting this file download) fully understand mountain climbing ("Activity") involves risks and dangers of serious bodily injury, including permanent disability, paralysis, and death ("Risks") and you fully accept and assume all such risks and all responsibility for losses, costs, and damages you incur as a result of your participation in this Activity.
You acknowledge that information in the file you have chosen to download may not be accurate and may contain errors. You agree to assume all risks when using this information and agree to release and discharge 14ers.com, 14ers Inc. and the author(s) of such information (collectively, the "Released Parties").
You hereby discharge the Released Parties from all damages, actions, claims and liabilities of any nature, specifically including, but not limited to, damages, actions, claims and liabilities arising from or related to the negligence of the Released Parties. You further agree to indemnify, hold harmless and defend 14ers.com, 14ers Inc. and each of the other Released Parties from and against any loss, damage, liability and expense, including costs and attorney fees, incurred by 14ers.com, 14ers Inc. or any of the other Released Parties as a result of you using information provided on the 14ers.com or 14ers Inc. websites.
You have read this agreement, fully understand its terms and intend it to be a complete and unconditional release of all liability to the greatest extent allowed by law and agree that if any portion of this agreement is held to be invalid the balance, notwithstanding, shall continue in full force and effect.
By clicking "OK" you agree to these terms. If you DO NOT agree, click "Cancel"...
I thought really hard about whether or not to write this trip report. I knew I wouldn't have the time to fully explain all the thoughts and feelings that went into the decisions I made...leaving myself open to criticism. I also don't like to give my friends and family more reason to worry about me. But I think it's important to tell stories like these, especially with the escalating interest in climbing winter 14ers and the current elevated avy conditions. I have a decent amount of experience with the Colorado snowpack, but I am far from an expert. I have taken classes with the CMC, read books about snow science, taken a couple level 1 Avy courses, and try my best to practice what I have learned. When I plan my trips, I do everything I can to make them as safe as possible...weather forecasts, avy conditions, choose safe routes when possible, proper gear selection, etc. No matter how much I try, I will still have to put myself in unsafe, potentially dangerous situations. How much risk am I willing to live with? If you ask some of the people I have climbed with, I would guess they would tell you that I have a pretty high tolerance for risk. I would have a hard time arguing that, but I would say that I'm confident and comfortable with every decision I make in the mountains. I have no problem turning around or changing course as soon as those feelings come into question. But I understand and accept the hazards that come with the activity. I make it a point to learn from all my trips and this is no exception. I hope others can learn from it too.
My first attempt to climb East and Northeast Crestone was on Sunday, January 10th. I slept in my car and was off on the Cottonwood Creek trail at 5:45am under a cold and clear sky. I was surprised to find a nice beaten trail for the first 3 miles. After that, the trail was non-existent and the snow was deep. I did my best to stay on course and eventually found my way left of the slabs, through a boulder drainage and up some steep, awkward slopes to treeline.
Cottonwood Creek
First view of the Needle
There are a few benches once you get above the trees that make for nice break areas
I got to the bottom of the red gully around 12pm...much later than I had hoped. There was much more snow than when I was here in 2012 and it was really taking a toll on me. I was a little concerned about my energy level and the condition of the gully, but I came this far and wanted to at least test it out.
View of my route up the gully
Looking down at the lower portion...the snow conditions varied widely...this was one of the few sections where it was firm enough to front point
There was some ice on the route, but nothing that was too difficult
The higher I got, the deeper and more concerning the snowpack got. This picture was taken from my turnaround point near 13,800'. It took me 3 hours to make it up 1600' and it was probably going to take me at least another hour to get to the top of the gully. But I'm not even sure that would have been possible. I was making no upward progress when I stopped. I was clearing snow out of the way before each step...bringing back bad memories of the Bell Cord. Up to this point I was able to connect rock outcroppings and climbed on solid ground whenever possible. Above me the slope opened up and was pretty bare of rock. It's never easy to make the decision to go down, but this was as easy as it gets for me. I was starting to not feel safe and I was totally exhausted.
I turned around at 3pm, 9 hours and 15 minutes after starting, and was back at my car at 6pm.
On my first winter hike in Cottonwood Creek I ran into a Crestone resident that told me how he loved this trail in the winter because the sun sets right in the V of the canyon as you are walking West. He wasn't lying. The setting sun kept me company for most of my walk out.
I spent the next week beating myself up about not summiting. It's such a dumb argument to have with yourself. It's so easy when you are warm, dry, and sitting at a desk to question the decisions you made when you were cold, tired, and concerned about the snow. The only good thing to come from these self-bashing thoughts is the motivation to get back out there and try it again. My next day off was a week later...Sunday, January 17th.
I felt a lot more prepared for this trip. I got to the TH earlier, more sleep, earlier start, stable weather that week, solid trench in place, and I knew that Ryan and his crew had been up that way the day before. I cruised up the trail making it to the basin in less than 3 hours...2 hours faster than the week before. When I got there is was snowing lightly, it was completely socked in, and there was no trench to be found. I ended up going to far to the right and found myself near the base of Crestolita. I overcorrected my path and went too far left. The clouds started to lift around 8am and I was able to catch a glimpse of the red gully.
The Needle with a fresh layer of frost
The snow conditions were dramatically improved from the week before. It had firmed up nicely and I was making really good time up the lower portion.
As I approached my previous highpoint, the snow started to get deeper. There was 8 - 12 inches of powder snow on top of a crusty layer. Up to this point, that layer easily held my weight and gave me no concerns. Now I was starting to punch through that slab and down into the next layer of soft snow.
A little higher up on the slope I heard that horrible whoompfing noise twice in quick succession. I looked around and noticed shooting cracks to my left and right. I needed to get off of this thing. I noticed a narrow couloir to my right that I thought would take me up to East Crestone and made it over there as quick as I could. Here is a picture of the couloir. It looked loaded, but it was the better option of the 2. And I was able to plunge my ice axe down to rock so I felt safe.
Looking back at the point where I turned out of the red gully
From the top of the couloir, it is an easy scramble to the top of East Crestone.
Colony Baldy and Humboldt to the East
Crestone Needle to the South
Crestone Peak to the West
I knew NE Crestone was going to be the harder summit of the two, but I didn't realize how much harder it would be. When I looked back at my notes from when I climbed it in the summer, all I wrote was "fun scramble to the summit of NE Crestone". Thanks for that valuable beta. You don't get a good look at the climb until you drop back down to the saddle between Crestone and E Crestone. From there is comes in to full view...DAMN!
To get to the base of NE Crestone you first need to down climb the icy top of the NW Couloir into the ether
After traversing over to the saddle between East and NE, you get this view. So much for "it's not as steep as it looks". The good thing was it was not too windy. If there was any wind, I probably would have had to turn around. I slowly made my way up, trying to find the easiest way up the broken face. The hardest part was traversing around the exposed corner between the mini-couloir on the right and the rock gully on the left...definitely a no fall zone.
This was a hard-earned summit for me and I wish I could have enjoyed it more than I did. The weather was great and the views were unbelievable. But all I could think about was how to get down this thing, up the NW Couloir and down the top of the Red Gully safely.
East Crestone
My first picture with my new Summits for Shylah flag. Shylah's favorite team is the Seahawks and this summer I got Russell Wilson to sign it for her. I noticed the writing was starting to fade so I had to retire it. I just got it framed and will be sending it to her shortly. She doesn't know about the signature so I'm really excited for her to see it.
I took about 10 minutes to eat and hydrate and then I headed back down. The downclimb wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. It helped that I could follow my tracks and not have to think about route finding. The descending traverse sucked, but at least I knew I could jump down into the mini-couloir if I started to lose my footing.
The top of the NW Couloir...like climbing over a steep pile of broken glass.
I scraped my way to the top and looked down at this on the other side.
I got a bad feeling when I saw those clouds and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I decided to skip Crestone Peak. In hindsight, my next move should have been to climb back up to East Crestone and descended the way I came. But I convinced myself that I could safely descend to my high mark in the gully by anchoring my axe and testing the snow before every step. I did this carefully and was quickly back to my tracks. Then I noticed that my tracks below were gone. It didn't seem windy enough to cover them that quickly. The visibility wasn't great and I had my head down, so it took me few minutes to realize what had happened. I was surrounded by debris. I looked up and saw the crown cutting all the way across the top of the gully. The whole thing had ripped out while I was up above it. I had no choice but to continue descending. There was debris and side crowns (I'm sure there is a better word for that) all the way down to the base of the gully...2000' of it. When I wasn't traveling on debris, I was traveling on a hard bed surface that required in-facing, down-climbing on front points. I felt safe, but I was definitely spooked and wanted off that thing. I was down and out of trouble in 45 minutes.
Looking up the slope
Looking down the slope
Looking back up at Red Gully
The clouds and my spirits lifted gradually as I made my way back to my car.
I had a lot of time on the walk out to think about what happened...
When did it happen? I never heard or saw it.
Did I do anything wrong?
Would have acted differently if I hadn't worked so hard to get these peaks?
Was I so focused on the summit that I ignored obvious warning signs?
Should I have done more...better evaluation of the snow, dug pits, missed signs?
What would have happened if I had a partner? Would we have been safer or less safe? Guess it would depend on the partner.
Would this make me more cautious on future climbs?
What if I died today?
Why am I not more freaked out about this?
Am I being too dramatic? Maybe the snow would have rushed passed me (it didn't seem very deep).
The questions were endless and hard to answer. I think that is the biggest reason I wanted to write this report. I would like to know what other people would have done in the same situation.
There was one question I was able to answer, but not until I got back home and looked at my pictures. If you look back at picture #19, you can see where the slide started. It must have happened right before or right after I turned and got off the slope coming up. It could have even been when I saw the shooting cracks. It was just quiet and I didn't look far enough to the left. I'm really thankful every time I look at that picture. Why didn't it shoot all the way across the slope? There's no reason why the fracture shouldn't have started with me.
I'll leave you with one last thought. The avy rose was green that day.
Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):
The avy rose is just one small piece of information, especially for the sangres that get so little information published, green or not one look at that slope I would have turned around, but I'm what most of my friends would call risk averse.
Either way, thanks for taking the time to write the report from a honest point of view, it's refreshing and helps the community learn.
Mike,
Really glad it worked out for you. I think reports like this help others reflect on risk control, and obviously this climb shook you a bit and has you reflecting. But fwiw, since you asked it's hard to say what I would have done in your shoes, it would depend so much on field observations. Your instincts certainly seemed spot on. I will say that your photo #18 looks way beyond my winter comfort zone, but maybe the perspective is skewed and it's not as steep as it looks. But I've always been skittish about slides, having set one off many years ago, so I'm a super weenie on slide evaluation, esp when alone. I take a multi-year view of climbing, i.e. in a snowy year I might bail off, thinking conditions might be better/leaner next year, the year after that, whatever. But it's also a lousy way to summit a lot of winter peaks. Finally, I applaud you for posting this report and thereby overcoming your stated fear of criticism, etc. Not at all easy to do. I'm still sitting on a report of a very close call I had 18 months ago, probably the closest of my climbing career, hard to revisit and share those events. So hat's off on this report. Again, glad it worked out, be careful out there.
Well, as the previous commenters have stated, there are a lot of factors here and the green avy rose is but one of many (although I appreciate the potency of ending your report on that note). I greatly enjoy your winter TRs (your Jagged attempt remains an all-time classic), but I agree with Schralp that that slope would have turned me around pretty quickly, especially solo. Then again, I'm not goal-oriented to winter summits and I do not have a particularly high risk tolerance. Nor had I put in the work--twice--to reach the Red Gully in deep snow. I also wholly agree with Tom that reports like this are entirely worthwhile as educational tools for both you the writer and for aspiring alpinists generally, especially because TRs such as these are so difficult to write. It's easy to say "turn around" from my nice cozy chair, but being in the situation is an entirely different calculus.
I really identified with and applaud this wording:
"It's such a dumb argument to have with yourself. It's so easy when you are warm, dry, and sitting at a desk to question the decisions you made when you were cold, tired, and concerned about the snow. The only good thing to come from these self-bashing thoughts is the motivation to get back out there and try it again."
It can apply to almost any type of turn around, but MMQBing such a decision rarely is of little benefit if you're saying "I shouldn't have." Much better, as you say, to use it as motivation for next time or objective assessment.
Regardless, stay safe, don't be overconfident (you are highly skilled and stronger than your average climber, but sliding slopes don't give a sh%t about that), and keep getting at 'em. You are seeing peaks and vistas most of us can only imagine.
Thank you for writing this report. You're asking all the right questions. First of all, so glad you're ok! From the pix, looks like way more snow than when we climbed Red Gully in 2014.
I was "lured" by green ratings in the Sangres myself recently, and climbing did feel pretty safe, but maybe it was a fallacy. We did encounter wind slab issues, but it seemed manageable.
From the recent Avy refresher course - 4% of accidents happen during "green" conditions. Unlikely doesn't mean impossible.
I figured I would chime in because I see a huge red flag that would've turned me around right away. That said, I can also understand why you continued.
The number one thing that jumps out at me about this situation is the weather. If it was socked in like that and the rock was plastered with that much rime, it's obvious to me that there was a big fucking storm that hit the peak, and there's a chance that there could be quite a bit of snow accumulation. That said, rime usually only forms when it's a super wet storm. You may not get snow accumulation at lower altitude, and the snow line will likely be higher up. What you experienced was probably a soft slab. These shed after a day or two. Had that slope gotten a sun load, it probably would've slid on its own. Then again, who's to say that it didn't.
I will echo some of the sentiments of the other people that replied. Without firsthand experience with the conditions that you encountered, it's hard to say one way or another. The only thing that is reasonably concrete is that with that bad of weather, and that bad of conditions on the mountain, you should have bailed right away.
If you take away one thing from this experience, I think you should understand you're pushing a little too hard. You need good conditions to climb mountains safely. If that means that you don't climb whatever Peak this year because you have a demanding schedule, that's just the way it is. Follow good conditions, and stay out of trouble. It's as simple as that.
I would have turned around, partner or not after seeing what you saw. I would consider myself on the conservative side of risk evaluation though. Also I would have dug a pit before I left just to see what it is was like underneath. For me solo missions are for nicer days with better visibility. Do you think the visibility that day hindered your decision making at all ? Seems like it could have been a factor.
Great job on getting the summit and home safely which is what matters the most.
I'd like to say I would have turned around, but I probably would have just stood well off to the side and had Fireonthemountain go first, were he with me.
Thanks for posting it. We saw your footsteps on NE Crestone; that looked spicy indeed. Good you weren't caught up in the avy.
Very glad you made it out safely. Sounds like a close call.
With the green (or even yellow) avy forecast, I probably wouldn't have turned back in the Red Gully until I saw something slide. But would have chickened out when seeing Image 37.
Would having partners result in making safer decisions? I feel like I have put myself in riskier situations when grouped with other people than when going solo. I feel somewhat hesitant to invite people on my remaining 14ers because of the non-negligible risk of life and limb.
I'm not sure it's possible to complete the Winter 14ers list without at least one near-death experience, but I could be wrong (there's not too many people I can ask). I went for an uncontrolled slide in the Red Gully when stepping on bulletproof ice and I'm sure the probable 1000' slide/fall may not have ended well (if I wasn't fairly lucky and managed to stop myself right before sliding off a decent sized ledge). And I was definitely holding my breath when crossing KC Avenue, waiting for the entire slope to slide. And I'm sure the Bells will provide a fair amount of risk...
With no dependents and a "shit happens" attitude, I would guess my risk tolerance is a bit higher than most people. I'm just hoping we don't see many people new to this sport risking themselves on the harder peaks until they have more experience under their belts.
Congrats on NE Crestone in winter,Mike .
Go to the mountains enough times and "events" will happen .The snow was telling you of instability(the shooting cracks)you moved past it and made it out alive with a story . Bet the first hug of wife and kids were good after the drive home .
Thanks everyone for your candid feedback. I don't have many people in the Springs that I can talk to about this stuff. They wouldn't know what to say. It really helps me to air it out on this site and to hear what people who have been there think.
Jaw-Dropping read and photos Mike. To those attempting to complete the 14ers in calendar winter it should be a warning to what they are signing up for and I also agree with what Tom said. The criticism is worth showing others the risk involved, fortunately it had a happy ending.
Congrats and I'm glad us mortals can read another "DAD MIKE" trip report in the future.
"As I approached my previous highpoint, the snow started to get deeper. There was 8 - 12 inches of powder snow on top of a crusty layer. Up to this point, that layer easily held my weight and gave me no concerns. Now I was starting to punch through that slab and down into the next layer of soft snow. "
I would have called it right there personally. Glad you posted this. It was a pretty amazing read. Insane pictures. Glad it had a happy conclusion.
A game we play where we answer many questions like, why am I here?
If you could answer that question, would it be your final answer?
A personal endeavor only you understand.
You can always phone a friend...haaaaa!
I totally meant to bust a rhyme, hoping you continue to climb.
Okay back to work everyone! :D
Heuristic traps.
We all fall into them one time or another, and I'm glad the trap door didn't get you. Be careful Mike, and when you go out next, just remember who's waiting for you at home.
That is if Dani lets you out again!
"I was starting to punch through that slab... 2/4/2016 4:33am
... and down into the next layer of soft snow. A little higher up on the slope I heard that horrible whoompfing noise twice in quick succession. I looked around and noticed shooting cracks to my left and right."
*intercom: PING!* Want to get away?
Once you made it to NE Crestone, wondered "will he descend the North Ridge to Humboldt's saddle to avoid that gulley?"
You just may have saved a life. So many hikers starting to dabble in the winter game and its important they realize that the avy risks are very real. So glad this was just a close call and nothing more. Keep on kickin' butt out there.
"As I approached my previous highpoint, the snow started to get deeper. There was 8 - 12 inches of powder snow on top of a crusty layer. Up to this point, that layer easily held my weight and gave me no concerns. Now I was starting to punch through that slab and down into the next layer of soft snow."
That would be my decision rendering point. I don't condemn you though for continuing because 1) I wasn't there and I'm in a nice warm office as I type this and 2) to your point everyone has different levels of risk we're willing to accept. Aron Ralston for example triggered an avalanche on the knife edge of Capitol during his winter solo project and continued. Me the thought of doing Capitol in winter with or without partners sounds like a horrifying proposition. I look forward to the Crestones this summer, lol.
Glad you are safe, Mike! It takes some courage to write a TR when you second guess your decisions. The winter 14ers are filled with many variables that can change in an instant. The bad thing is when you are so close to the summit on these winter 14ers, your risk tolerance increases because of the effort to get to that point. I had a similar situation on Pikes a few years ago one March. I was going up Little Italy and felt pretty comfortable with the snow until I set off a slow moving slide near the top. The right exit was wind loaded. It moved very slowly, but I was on top of it for a few seconds. From that point on, my risk tolerance on snow really dropped! It can happen to anybody, my friend.
I have always been a fan of yours. I get so excited when I see a trip report from you. The pictures in this TR are nothing short of amazing. You're alive, so you must have done something right. In the end, you have to do what you love doing, the things that fill your soul with satisfaction. I think you answered every question you proposed at the end in the very beginning of this report. You can only make decisions you think are good in that moment and accept certain risks, or stop climbing mountains and live with zero risk. Eh, even then, isn't living a risk in itself?
I am super glad you are okay. It sounds like cutting out of the red gully and continuing up was a good decision. If you had instead turned around you may have been caught on the way back down. You have a lot of experience and it shows. Reflection is always a good thing. It will only serve to make you a stronger mountaineer.
"The avy rose was green that day." 2/9/2016 9:32am
I usually stay away from anything that even remotely resembles Monday morning quarterbacking. But since it's here and there is a discussion, here are a few thoughts.
1- There aren't a lot of observations for the CAIC to review in the Sangres, which is why they are often marked grey for insufficient info. Sangres forecasts should be taken with a bigger grain of salt than other ranges.
2- The rating is, in my opinion, one of the least important pieces of info found in the forecast. The avalanche problems and seasonal/recent weather observations are far more important. For instance, if the danger is moderate but the primary concern is storm slabs (more typical in the PNW)- that's far more predictable and far less consequential (in general) than a moderate rating with a persistent slab problem (typical in CO).
3- Often, when the danger in CO drops to low, it is due to a long dry spell that has deteriorated any slabs to the point where there is no longer a slab. I'm not sure that was the case here- at least where you were.
Anyway, those are a few thoughts. Love the photos and TR, talk about beautiful rime ice and some of the best peaks in the state. Cheers,
Nice work. I always enjoy a nice palm sweat induced by scary 14er pics :lol:
Caution: The information contained in this report may not be accurate and should not be the only resource used in preparation for your climb. Failure to have the necessary experience, physical conditioning, supplies or equipment can result in injury or death. 14ers.com and the author(s) of this report provide no warranties, either express or implied, that the information provided is accurate or reliable. By using the information provided, you agree to indemnify and hold harmless 14ers.com and the report author(s) with respect to any claims and demands against them, including any attorney fees and expenses. Please read the 14ers.com Safety and Disclaimer pages for more information.
Please respect private property: 14ers.com supports the rights of private landowners to determine how and by whom their land will be used. In Colorado, it is your responsibility to determine if land is private and to obtain the appropriate permission before entering the property.