Capitol Peak Trip Report 11/24/2017

Report Type	Full
Peak(s)	Capitol Peak - 14,138 feet
Date Posted	11/24/2017
Modified	12/17/2017
Date Climbed	03/15/2017
Author	JtheChemE
Additional Members	kushrocks

Capitol Peak Winter Daytrip - March 2017
I kinda debated posting this, but better late than never, and winter is coming, so why not? To the best of my knowledge, two groups summited Capitol 16'/17' winter. Here's a write up of how one of those parties successfully made the top. TLDR: Daytrip of Capitol Peak via Moon Lake Approach in Winter of March 2017. We got it. Much fun was had by all. By all, I mean myself and Ryan (kushrocks). For those reading not in the know: Colorado's Capitol peak (Elevation: 14,130) is one of the most difficult Colorado 14ers during regular warm/dry summer conditions. During winter, it's difficulty is much intensified, and it's âeasiest' route is as serious an undertaking as you'll find in CO winter14ers. The price of admission is not trivial, at 16.5 miles worth of trailbreaking through avalanche prone terrain, and 6000 vertical feet gained, with the tricky climbing saved for the end. Rambling Prologue: It takes me a while to write trip reports. There are Not enough hours in the day, and my propensity for photos and unnecessarily verbose vernacular adds another layer of timesuck. That said, some efforts deserve a write up, especially if those efforts were partially inspired by the write ups of other folks who have been kind enough to share their winter experiences. Winter is my favorite time of the year for 14ers. I look for solitude in the mountains, which is increasingly difficult to find outside of winter. I enjoy the cold of winter, the inhospitable beauty, the planning, and I like the additional physical difficulty true winter brings. Capitol in winter combines all those factors, and for some reason, had stood up in my mind as one of the big tests of winter mountaineering in CO. Naturally, I wanted to up the ante and do it as a daytrip. So, it was a high priority last winter to make a summit bid on this oft-elusive snowflake. Early in the winter, there was a great conditions window for Capitol. I spent the first day of that window on some other Elk 14er summits with Will (mountainstoke), so I was confident in snow stability and the weather was perfect. Will suggested I join him, Jeff and Jim for their Capitol bid. Unfortunately for me, I was due back in Denver for NYE, so I had to bow out. Of course, Jeff, Jim and Will successfully summited Capitol on Dec 31/Jan 1 (congratulations, guys). As happy as I was for the NYE Cappy Crew, it was difficult to stomach the fact I missed a greenlight on Capitol. So ensued daily monitoring of weather forecasts, long range predictions, monitoring snowpack levels, and CAIC conditions. All the while, a greater problem presented itself ââWho the hell wants to climb Capitol in Winter as a daytrip with me'â? As it turns out, the list is shorter than I imagined! It was looking to be a solo go of it. My habitual mid-week winter grinding at Torreyville ultimately led me to cross paths with Ryan (kushrocks). By a fortuitous turn of luck, he had been saving a winter summit of Capitol for his 14er finisher. I knew of Ryan's recent success in Pakistan, and beyond being strong, fast and competent, he knew the Moon Lake approach well. Partner problem: solved! Weather problem: pray for (not)snow. We aborted two separate attempts in the 11th hour, both due to dramatic changes to weather the day prior. All that backstory is here to convey one simple statement: Capitol in winter is not a simple âplug and chug' problem to solve. Beyond the pre-requisite ability, it also takes planning, determination and flexibility. Ryan and I spent 3 months waiting for a summit window. The Real Story: Green CAIC avy forecast + low winds + clear skies + good temps = GO. Sweet. Well, ââGO'â was on a Wednesday. Damn. I have this ââengineering'â thing that often gets in the way of climbing. Lucky for me, I was able to wiggle out of a work obligation in Wyoming to give it a go, and at that point, the game was set. Capitol, as a day trip. No time for pre-trenching. No scouting mission. Ryan and I would pitt our abilities against the mountain, and attempt it sight unseen. So, that's how we found ourselves sitting on the Snowmass road at 6:00pm ready to hunker down for the night. By âânight'â I mean a few hours of low quality doze, because the alarm was set for 10:00pm. Unfortunately for us the road was surprisingly busy, and cars driving by made the roadside slumber fitful at best. By 9:00, it was apparent neither of us was sleeping, so we elected to get things moving. I had less than two hours of rest, and Ryan perhaps only one hour. Big days with limited rest is typical of winter mountaineering, and neither of us were strangers to big days on short rest. In any case, not knowing the condition of the snow, I opted to borrow Ryan's larger 28'â MSR snowshoes, and he proceeded on skins. After a curious local driving by stopped to chat with us on the road (clearly thinking we were some special kind of crazy), we were moving past the winter gate at 10pm. The initial trail went by quickly, as it sees regular snowshoe and ski touring traffic. Once you drop off the trail to the to the creek ââcrossing'â things get a bit vaguer, and I was appreciative that Ryan had done this approach before and was able to efficiently move us in the right direction. After an uneventful creek crossing, followed by a minor bushwhack, we reached the small plateau above the creek. Aided by a windless, clear and cool evening, we found the snow to have a bit of crust. Not the bottomless wallowing we had anticipated. Cool! Having mentally prepared myself for a demoralizing trenchfest through the wee hours of the night, this came as a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately for Ryan, the icy nature of the crust made his skins less than ideal on some of the steep slopes. Not having ski crampons, this caused some trouble in a couple of the steepest areas. This only lasted for a short while until terrain leveled out. As we gained altitude, the snow became a bit more powdery, allowing Ryan to expend a bit less energy and me to spend a bit more. Due to the unexpectedly good condition of the snow, we were moving quickly. Too fast, really. We did not want to hit the ridge prior to first light, so we allowed ourselves to slow the pace. Slogging in darkness is peaceful. I always find that time flies when senses are confined to a cone of light, the sound of lab We gave east aspects of Daly a wide berth, which put us east of the creek bed, and into some dense timber heading up towards Moon Lake. Around 1:00am zero ZZZs caught up to us, and we both hit a bit of a wall. Ingesting calories was not really helping, so since we had time, we opted for a longer rest. Looking up the shallow gully towards pt. 12903, we see that the whole NE aspect ran earlier in the winter. The slide left timber downed as large as ~18'â in diameter. The recent dry spell and clear skies had rendered the downed trees bone dry. Dry as kindling. Sketchy Slopes I was checking out the upcoming route, and within the space of a few seconds I had turned around, Ryan had a small fire going! I thought he was rummaging for some gummy bears. Anyways, it was quite a luxury to burn time with a large fire going at 1:30am in winter. Fire was below treeline, away from water, and used deadfall. So it was a-ok! We spent 30 minutes luxuriating by the fire. Guys a pyro (Not really. Butâ¦ I mean, maybe) I could see tired in Ryan's face, and knew that I looked pretty haggard myself. ââYou ready to boogie?'â Ryan gave the affirmative and after safely quenching/burying the fire we were again off. I embrace fatigue as part of the overall mountaineering experience. However, lack of sleep, and the efforts of the winter climbing season thus far had decided to make themselves known to me all at once. This general fatigue continued through the next couple of hours of trenching, which were some of the more mentally trying I've had in the CO mountains. That darn circadian rhythm is the worst! Soon, we found ourselves approaching the gully to gain Moon Lake. This gulley has some avy risk with the potential for deep burial in terrain traps. Our continuous snow eval on the way up did not yield any major instabilities so far. However, it is always possible localized terrain could have some trigger points, and this was the same NE aspect that harbored the same weak snow layer than caused the big avy under pt. 12903. It's the route to Moon Lake, so the only option was to space it out and move quick. Ryan went first up the gulley on skis with no issue, avoiding the NE aspects as best he could, but the real test is always when the snowshoer plows through. I go. Nothing moves, the slopes are cement. Soon we find ourselves, under 4am moonlight, at Moon Lake. If you are not familiar with how folks typically try to climb Capitol Peak in winter, usually they allow two days. One is to approach Moon Lake, and the second is for their summit attempt the next day from this location. Here we were, 6.5 hours deep into our daytrip. After the lake, we found the difficult powder snow we'd been missing, which continues up into the upper basin at ~12.4k. We plowed trail, on through another wall of fatigue, and eventually found ourselves looking up at the K2 / Clark Saddle. Dang, it sure did look quite a ways up. The basin is a big U-shaped amphitheater, surrounded by snow on all sides except the way you came up. The saddle is guarded by avy slopes on all aspects. Really, this place is a death trap if snow is unstable. Benign Terrain, Right? Wrong. We were feeling gassed, and we did not want to move slow through this terrain. I suggested to Ryan: ââLet's try to catch a quick catnap?'â Ryan was dubious as to whether sleep would find us, but we both had 8000m parkas, and he welcomed the idea of a longer break. We spotted a largish boulder, and a bit of digging on the leeward side yielded a hollow next to it large enough to provide a bit of shelter from the strengthening winds. I set an alarm on the phone, and closed my eyes for a bit. Why were we so tired? Maybe the fact we daytripped Kit Carson and Challenger just a couple days prior was contributing? Plus, it was really cold. Ryan and I passed the last cold hour of the night at 12.6k in a half nap. This afforded a necessary bit of rest 8 hours into our âzero zzzzs' summit bid. All told the stop/bivy occupied another hour. Up to this point, we'd burned 1.5 hours of the trip on rest, so as I dozed, I couldn't help but ponder if that would cost us the summit. Why do it? Because we were well equipped, experienced, and understood that it would give us extra gas in tank to move quickly up the slope to the K2 / Clark Saddle, as well as the long day to come. Plus, it was still dark, and we didn't want to hit the ridge before sunrise. The cellphone alarm soon signaled that it was time again to hustle, and I realized the audacity of our situation. We had marches across 10 miles of winter terrain, breaking trail for much of that. We had 2 hrs. of sleep, the sun was not yet up, and we had a sketchy avy slope to boot up. I was shivering, legs still feeling empty, and all of the real work was still in front of me. Really, I'm not trying to overstate the challenges associated with this peak in winter, but rather try and put into words the feelings of the moment. Mountaineering is made up of a series of small steps and goals. ââCan I make it to that rock before stopping?'â ââShoot, I made the rock, let's go for the outcropping before stopping?'â For us, the next stop was the saddle which was the next (and only) safe zone prior to K2. Unfortunately, we had that pesky 600' of avalanche basin to get there. I resumed the lead, and blasted up towards the saddle at max output, leaving Ryan behind in the lower safe(ish) zone. A few shooting cracks broke away minor 4'â bits of wind slab, but below that it was as solid as N. aspect CO winter snowpack can be. Speed. When fully committed to unavoidably hazardous terrain, the only ally here is speed. I moved quickly up the slope, and happily our appraisal of snow conditions was spot on. Why am I here? Iâm here because moments like this are everything. At the top, I ponder. I'm alone, cold, and tired. While the surroundings are inhospitable, this is real. Watching the sun break the plane of the horizon and touch the snow laden slopes of Capitol, Snowmass, and shone over the Bells, all in tones of pink and purple is a sight which few are blessed enough to see. Yet here I stood watching the day come to life, and saying good morning to the sun. I recall welcoming the warmth on my face, the color forcing out the dark. I think of life, those in my life who matter most, and the blessings that enable me to experience such fleeting moments of purity and joy in an otherwise trivialized modern existence. Looking back onto Ryan, as he heads up to join me at the saddle. Daly in background. When you think of it, life is made up of memorable moments. By definition, all moments are fleeting. However, some moments are of such magnitude that they become the measure of one's life. Truly, if life is worth living, it is by these moments of magnitude that we measure the meaning of our life. Finding myself alone at the K2 / Daly saddle watching Ryan push up the slope as the day began to break behind him measures as a moment of magnitude. Wordsmithing banter aside, when Ryan meets me at the saddle, we grin at eachother like a couple of hypoxic fools. Land of cold and dark has turned into gold and warmth. Moments of Magnetude After taking advantage of a weak cell signal to let friends and family know our progress, we turn our eyes towards the start of the real work to be done. Sunrise has a funny way of re-energizing you, and we were definitely stoked to set off onto the ridge! Ryan may or may not be excited. You decide. After months of planning, and paying the hefty price of admission, I was pretty excited to be here, and tackle Capitol in winter conditions. We look up towards Mr. Cappy Cap. It's still shrouded in dawn, and the moon hangs over it in violet skies, bathing the snow laden slopes in pink alpenglow. Hey, the moons there. Thatâs a good sign, right? This may be a timely point in the trip report to mention that you should probably know what you are doing to be up here in winter. This is a very real mountain. The ridge is constantly exposed, and if you make a mistake on that ridge, it'd likely be your last. If that sounds dramatic, consider the death toll on Capitol 2017 during summer. Respect the mountain, and bring the required skills because everyone is just a bag of bones. ââThe mountain does not care''. I digress. Onward. After devouring gummy bears, melting snow, and stashing our poles and flotation, we plod up the deep snow to summit K2 in uneventful fashion. This is K2, right bro? So, Ryan's been up here a couple winters already, but here's a fun fact: I've never done Capitol, not even in summer conditions. We stand on K2, and looking onward, and it's all a jumble of rocks and snow that we've got to figure out. It's an unfamiliar mountain, certainly, but a very familiar alpine challenge. It's a ridge, it all goes, right? From the top of K2, we elect to head directly down, skiers right of a cliffy feature. Our downclimb from K2 was tricky with thin snow coverage. Pretty sure it isn't a summer âroute', but it went. The meandering downclimb was no more difficult than awkward âclass 4' (what the hell is class 4, anyway?), but with crampons and snowed over holds it felt tricky. Happily, everything was still frozen together, so the infamously loose K2 was a non-issue. Ryan took the lead here, and spotted me out on one tricky move (awkward reverse mantel-thingy off of a large slabby rock.) #shortguyproblems. Once to the low point between K2 and Capitol the ridge looked long, exposed, and reminded me of some of the classic ridge route's I've seen in the European Alps. Ryan decided to boogie out first to start the festivities. The first portion of the ridge reads similarly to most other ridges in winter. Check your footing, don't catch a point, careful not to slip, because it's super exposed and you're gonna have a bit of a tumble if you goof. Donât Slip! The knife edge was a bit drier than I'd seen from past winter TRs. While obviously exposed, good hands on rock and feet on snow made quick work of the knife edge. Easy ridge walk, kinda like Quandary We made quick work of the section between the knife edge and the winter crux. The crux of the winter route, should you not send the NE ridge directly, is a fantastically exposed rising traverse on steep snow cutting across the SE aspect of the Capitol ridgeline. It is absolutely no fall territory, and many choose to rope up for this portion. Winter Crux. (Taken on descent) I carried a rope, slings, and some light pro, but preferring speed I volunteered to take the lead and continue on ropeless up to the summit. There was less snow on the traverse than I thought, and I found 8-12'â of thin coverage on top of loose rocks and slabs. Sort of supportive now, but after it bakes, who knows? Who cares? Those are ââfuture Justin'â problems anyways. After crossing the face, we find ourselves on slightly milder terrain which goes by quickly until the technical crux of the winter route. It's some sort of exposed 5.whatever pull/mantel through a pseudo-dihedral thingy back up to the ridge proper. In any case, I try one move which feels sketchy with poor hands, but dispatch it on the second try. Ryan followed quickly behind, taking less time than I to pull the âone hit wonder' move. From there, it is mild scrambling to the summit. When I find myself on top of a difficult peak, do I ever enjoy a difficult summit in the moment? Truly, I am not sure. Mostly I'm aware that the real work is yet to be done, and keen to keep moving. âThe summit. Holy crap! We did it. Neat. Holy shit. Letâs tell people we made it safe. Take a few pictures. Itâs hot as It was cool that Ryan saved his 14er finisher for Capitol in winter, and I was glad to be there to share that. Not only is Ryan a good dude, he's ridiculously strong in the mountains. Not just physically, but mentally. Our like-minded mental toughness through a sleep-deprived approach slog is really what pulled us through the night. Once on the ridge, we were able to move efficiently, not simul-ing or using any protection heading up. As we stand on the summit, taking the pre-requisite selfie, it is obvious the temps had risen dramatically. It was well above freezing even at 14k. In case you aren't in the know: high temperatures while you are on the summit at 10:20 am mean eastern aspect snow will be in terrible condition, because it has been warmed by sunhit. Basically, the entire route we would have to downclimb would be very soft, unsupportive, mushy snow. Soâ¦. We took a few photos, sent some messages to fam and friends, and turned tail to start the trip down. Getting down Capitol in winter is arguably more difficult than going up. While looking for a place to set an anchor to rappel off the summit block, we find Jeff, Jim and Will's anchor from last December. After inspection, the anchor is still bomber (thanks fellas), and we were happy to utilize! Ryan is clearly not having any fun. After taking care of business on the first rappel, we found ourselves at the exposed face traverse mentioned earlier. We rigged an anchor, and Ryan rappelled down first. Turns out, my 40m was not quite enough to avoid all the sketchy snow turned mush on the steep slab. Ryan hollered up that I might break the anchor down, drop 20 or so vertical down the ridge (not trivial), set another anchor, and rappel from there. After breaking the anchor and downclimbing, it turns out another anchor is impossible with what I have. Neat. Super neat. So, I'm faced with two options 1) Re-ascend sketchy ridge in deteriorating snow to the original anchor point and rappel from there or 2) an exposed downclimb on slabs, loose rock, and across the sketchy snow. I went with option 2, which was maybe not the most prudent decision I'd ever made. This is actually much sketchier than it may look. First rap was the knob in foreground. I'm downclimbing slabs on frontp Descending from this point on slurpee snow, across smooth slabs and loose rubble is probably right up there with one of the more dangerous situations I've been in. Another winter TR here describes this section as ââterrifying slush stuck to 50/55 degree rock slabs'â, which is a spot on appraisal. Note that I am frontpointing on rock slabs in the photo (above) Ryan got of me. With good coverage and firm snow, It might just be a steep snow downclimb. However, with the thin unsupportive mush-snow, you try to plunge your axe into the snow, and it scrapes on rock with no bite. So, you are relying on crampon front points on slabby rock, and the tip of your tools for balance. Delicate, but doable with care. Simply, this is one of those sections where if you slip, you will die. I could not have anticipated how bad the snow would be on the downclimb. In hindsight, I should have spent the time to head back up the ridge, re-set the first anchor and rappel. I suppose there is a reason this section gets rappelled or protected in the other TR I've seen! When I get down off of the crux downclimb, I find Ryan lounging in the sun. Since he rappelled all of the bullshittery, he is lounging in the sun, happy as a clam. I mutter ââWell, that was less than ideal''. Crux napping. From here, the terrain eased slightly for a bit, but remained serious especially on two snow covered steps ridge proper. Easier Terrain. Photo Credit: Ryan Going Down Soon, all we have left is the knife edge. As Ryan went across the knife edge, naturally, one of his crampons popped loose. The only times they come off, are when you really don't want them to. Ryan had to exercise some awkward gymnastics in the 'no fall zone' to reattach his crampon on the slope immediate after the knife edge. Meanwhile, I'm obliged to sit on the knife edge for a few minutes. Legs just hanging in the breeze, pondering what kinda weirdos willingly subject themselves to this. It's actually pretty neat, and stands out in my mind as a highlight. In comparison, the terrain after the knife edge to the K2 / Clark Saddle is tame. We did not resummit K2 on the way back, rather heading onto the north aspect for a snow/rock traverse. It was solid for us. Once we got back to the K2 / Clark Saddle, we finally allowed ourselves to feel some accomplishment. We summited Capitol in Winter. We did it as a daytrip. We did it sight unseen, and having never climbed it previously. We did not protect anything heading up. I did it in the style that is my preference, and we were sitting here getting sunburned where previously we were shivering. We boiled some water, ate some gu, texted family and friends and then realized we had a shitload of miles to cover before we got back to my Jeep. Well damn, that's a buzzkill. Daytime views from our breakfast spot. Iâd summit S. Maroon two days later. Ryan kitted up his skis, and laughed atthe snowshow peasantry (me) as he zipped right down that slope that gave us so much pause at 6am. So fast. Why am I not on skis?? Anyone who know me, knows that I do not like to glissade. The reasons don't matter much, but it's really not my thing. Sitting on your ass shooting downhill across snow at high speeds just doesn't seem very wise. For whatever reason, that day I decide to glissade down to make time. As I begin my glissade... it's great! Thoughts race through my mind: ââwhy don't I do this all the time?'â â¦.. ââso much easier than plunge stepping'ââ¦. ââwheee'ââ¦. Well, as I gain some speed, I notice a thin black square bouncing ahead of me. What can that be?? The odd black square gains velocity, and starts cartwheeling 6 feet in the air. Curious! Then the black square starts spitting out moneyâ¦ and credit cardsâ¦ and IDsâ¦ and I start to compute. I realize that odd black square is my wallet. Excellent. Apparently, I neglected to take my wallet out of the back pocket of my softshells. Said pocket came unzipped during glissade, and aforementioned wallet detached itself from my persons. After climbing one of the most notoriously difficult and dangerous CO 14ers in winter, I found myself scrounging all around this giant snowfield looking for $300, a handful of credit cards, and my driver's license. I can tell you, it's not as easy or glamorous as it sounds. The net effect: my wallet was some $200 lighter, and Capitol has a couple great lines of credit. The moral of the story is don't take your wallet with you into the high mountains (unless you are in Switzerland). Also, there's $200 up for grabs somewhere up there. Just saying. After my wallet fiasco, the death march began in earnest. So hot. So much snow. Hot + snow = slooow misery. Ryan, again laughing at the snowshoe peasantry (me), zips off for some nice corn turns. I posthole with snowshoes. So pass the next couple hours. At one point, I tell Ryan to quit sandbagging. I'm a snowshoe peasant, I get it. Just zip back to my jeep, "mr skier royalty guy", I'll even give you my key. Ryan disappears. I slog. I keep slogging. I don't see Ryan waiting for me anywhere. I slog some more. I figure he's skiing, so he's already back at my jeep. I cross the stream to regain the Snowmass trail. It's way more annoying by daylight, and the snow is unsupportive, so it's just a continuation of the posthole/misery fest. I finally hit the trail, and I am thankful of the skin track compacted snow. While I wish I could remember these last few miles as easy, I was approaching 48h of almost no sleep. So time had thankfully slowed to where minutes feel like hours. It's great! Life is so fleeting, and now I can really savor each and every miserable slow second, every slow step, each delicious and sudden posthole of this fine deproach. I finally see the jeep! 19h in, and it is time to go get some calories!! Nope. Ryan wasn't there (noob). Where the hell was Ryan?? He was on skis! Recall, I gave Ryan my Jeep fob. Since Ryan had my Bluetooth key-fob, I could not unlock my jeep door without setting off my car alarm for 30 minutes straight, which I did. It was really therapeutic. I started to get a bit worried: Ryan is experienced, and on skis. He should be here! I DeLormed my wife, letting her know all the details, and telling her I was about to set off back to find Ryan. Just as I send the message, good ol' kushrocks emerges from the snow, carrying his skis on his back. While I sat for 45 minutes wondering where he was, apparently his skins delaminated due to wet snow, and he was forced to wallow the last miles without any sort of flotation. He also lost his ipod somewhere in the snow. Apparently he had a bit of an epic, right there at the end. High fives. We had done it, we were safe, and we were fulfilled. It's only a 14er, one which has been done many time before, but we had both achieved something significant. Ryan finished his 14er list, having saving his finisher for Capitol in Winter. I had again approached a difficult winter 14er sight unseen, and came out on top. Ryan and I did it as a daytrip, with no pre-trench, and without fanfare. We did it because it was something worth doing. It was something for ourselves, that we wanted to do. Now, it is off to Qdoba in Glenwood Springs, then a long drive back to Denver. As you are sitting here, casually reading this trip report, realize Ryan and I had been up from 5am 3/14 - 12am 3/17. In that duration, we had maybe 2 hours of real sleep during that window. Winter wasn't over though! I'd daytrip S. Maroon two days later. If you've made it this far, through all these words, I'm glad you were able to hear this story. (I also feel kinda bad to have subjected you to a 4900 word TR.) Here's a poorly done video, with some of the cruxy bits. (If wanna complain about the fisheye: just think of it as Quandary. Except it's not at all like Quandary.) Parting Thoughts: For me, mountaineering is not just about great pictures, making your accomplishments seem big, or making others seem small. It's about how you challenge yourself, how you find yourself. It's about how you push yourself right to the brink, but not quite over. It's about how you sometimes wonder how you made it out alive. It's about the friendships you make, the experiences, and the path trodden into unknown. Ultimately, it's about pitting yourself vs. yourself and seeing who comes out on top. It's about life, and really living it. While those final words are a bit philosophical, it's what it means to me. See you out there this winter. Stats (Per GPS): 19.5h 16.5mi (Dawson says 14.5, not sure why the difference) 6200 vertical gained (Dawson says 5900) Approximate Times: Start: 10:00PM K2: 8:00AM Summit: 10:30AM Car: 4:30PM Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Capitol Peak Winter Daytrip - March 2017

I kinda debated posting this, but better late than never, and winter is coming, so why not? To the best of my knowledge, two groups summited Capitol 16'/17' winter. Here's a write up of how one of those parties successfully made the top.

TLDR: Daytrip of Capitol Peak via Moon Lake Approach in Winter of March 2017. We got it. Much fun was had by all. By all, I mean myself and Ryan (kushrocks). For those reading not in the know: Colorado's Capitol peak (Elevation: 14,130) is one of the most difficult Colorado 14ers during regular warm/dry summer conditions. During winter, it's difficulty is much intensified, and it's âeasiest' route is as serious an undertaking as you'll find in CO winter14ers. The price of admission is not trivial, at 16.5 miles worth of trailbreaking through avalanche prone terrain, and 6000 vertical feet gained, with the tricky climbing saved for the end.

Rambling Prologue:
It takes me a while to write trip reports. There are Not enough hours in the day, and my propensity for photos and unnecessarily verbose vernacular adds another layer of timesuck. That said, some efforts deserve a write up, especially if those efforts were partially inspired by the write ups of other folks who have been kind enough to share their winter experiences.

Winter is my favorite time of the year for 14ers. I look for solitude in the mountains, which is increasingly difficult to find outside of winter. I enjoy the cold of winter, the inhospitable beauty, the planning, and I like the additional physical difficulty true winter brings.

Capitol in winter combines all those factors, and for some reason, had stood up in my mind as one of the big tests of winter mountaineering in CO. Naturally, I wanted to up the ante and do it as a daytrip. So, it was a high priority last winter to make a summit bid on this oft-elusive snowflake.

Early in the winter, there was a great conditions window for Capitol. I spent the first day of that window on some other Elk 14er summits with Will (mountainstoke), so I was confident in snow stability and the weather was perfect. Will suggested I join him, Jeff and Jim for their Capitol bid. Unfortunately for me, I was due back in Denver for NYE, so I had to bow out. Of course, Jeff, Jim and Will successfully summited Capitol on Dec 31/Jan 1 (congratulations, guys). As happy as I was for the NYE Cappy Crew, it was difficult to stomach the fact I missed a greenlight on Capitol.

So ensued daily monitoring of weather forecasts, long range predictions, monitoring snowpack levels, and CAIC conditions. All the while, a greater problem presented itself ââWho the hell wants to climb Capitol in Winter as a daytrip with me'â? As it turns out, the list is shorter than I imagined! It was looking to be a solo go of it.

My habitual mid-week winter grinding at Torreyville ultimately led me to cross paths with Ryan (kushrocks). By a fortuitous turn of luck, he had been saving a winter summit of Capitol for his 14er finisher. I knew of Ryan's recent success in Pakistan, and beyond being strong, fast and competent, he knew the Moon Lake approach well. Partner problem: solved! Weather problem: pray for (not)snow.

We aborted two separate attempts in the 11th hour, both due to dramatic changes to weather the day prior. All that backstory is here to convey one simple statement: Capitol in winter is not a simple âplug and chug' problem to solve. Beyond the pre-requisite ability, it also takes planning, determination and flexibility. Ryan and I spent 3 months waiting for a summit window.

The Real Story:
Green CAIC avy forecast + low winds + clear skies + good temps = GO. Sweet.

Well, ââGO'â was on a Wednesday. Damn. I have this ââengineering'â thing that often gets in the way of climbing. Lucky for me, I was able to wiggle out of a work obligation in Wyoming to give it a go, and at that point, the game was set. Capitol, as a day trip. No time for pre-trenching. No scouting mission. Ryan and I would pitt our abilities against the mountain, and attempt it sight unseen.

So, that's how we found ourselves sitting on the Snowmass road at 6:00pm ready to hunker down for the night. By âânight'â I mean a few hours of low quality doze, because the alarm was set for 10:00pm.

Unfortunately for us the road was surprisingly busy, and cars driving by made the roadside slumber fitful at best. By 9:00, it was apparent neither of us was sleeping, so we elected to get things moving. I had less than two hours of rest, and Ryan perhaps only one hour. Big days with limited rest is typical of winter mountaineering, and neither of us were strangers to big days on short rest.

In any case, not knowing the condition of the snow, I opted to borrow Ryan's larger 28'â MSR snowshoes, and he proceeded on skins. After a curious local driving by stopped to chat with us on the road (clearly thinking we were some special kind of crazy), we were moving past the winter gate at 10pm. The initial trail went by quickly, as it sees regular snowshoe and ski touring traffic. Once you drop off the trail to the to the creek ââcrossing'â things get a bit vaguer, and I was appreciative that Ryan had done this approach before and was able to efficiently move us in the right direction.

After an uneventful creek crossing, followed by a minor bushwhack, we reached the small plateau above the creek. Aided by a windless, clear and cool evening, we found the snow to have a bit of crust. Not the bottomless wallowing we had anticipated. Cool! Having mentally prepared myself for a demoralizing trenchfest through the wee hours of the night, this came as a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately for Ryan, the icy nature of the crust made his skins less than ideal on some of the steep slopes. Not having ski crampons, this caused some trouble in a couple of the steepest areas. This only lasted for a short while until terrain leveled out. As we gained altitude, the snow became a bit more powdery, allowing Ryan to expend a bit less energy and me to spend a bit more.

Due to the unexpectedly good condition of the snow, we were moving quickly. Too fast, really. We did not want to hit the ridge prior to first light, so we allowed ourselves to slow the pace.

Slogging in darkness is peaceful. I always find that time flies when senses are confined to a cone of light, the sound of lab

We gave east aspects of Daly a wide berth, which put us east of the creek bed, and into some dense timber heading up towards Moon Lake. Around 1:00am zero ZZZs caught up to us, and we both hit a bit of a wall. Ingesting calories was not really helping, so since we had time, we opted for a longer rest. Looking up the shallow gully towards pt. 12903, we see that the whole NE aspect ran earlier in the winter. The slide left timber downed as large as ~18'â in diameter. The recent dry spell and clear skies had rendered the downed trees bone dry. Dry as kindling.

I was checking out the upcoming route, and within the space of a few seconds I had turned around, Ryan had a small fire going! I thought he was rummaging for some gummy bears. Anyways, it was quite a luxury to burn time with a large fire going at 1:30am in winter. Fire was below treeline, away from water, and used deadfall. So it was a-ok! We spent 30 minutes luxuriating by the fire.

Guys a pyro (Not really. Butâ¦ I mean, maybe)

I could see tired in Ryan's face, and knew that I looked pretty haggard myself. ââYou ready to boogie?'â Ryan gave the affirmative and after safely quenching/burying the fire we were again off.

I embrace fatigue as part of the overall mountaineering experience. However, lack of sleep, and the efforts of the winter climbing season thus far had decided to make themselves known to me all at once. This general fatigue continued through the next couple of hours of trenching, which were some of the more mentally trying I've had in the CO mountains. That darn circadian rhythm is the worst!

Soon, we found ourselves approaching the gully to gain Moon Lake. This gulley has some avy risk with the potential for deep burial in terrain traps. Our continuous snow eval on the way up did not yield any major instabilities so far. However, it is always possible localized terrain could have some trigger points, and this was the same NE aspect that harbored the same weak snow layer than caused the big avy under pt. 12903. It's the route to Moon Lake, so the only option was to space it out and move quick.

Ryan went first up the gulley on skis with no issue, avoiding the NE aspects as best he could, but the real test is always when the snowshoer plows through. I go. Nothing moves, the slopes are cement.

Soon we find ourselves, under 4am moonlight, at Moon Lake. If you are not familiar with how folks typically try to climb Capitol Peak in winter, usually they allow two days. One is to approach Moon Lake, and the second is for their summit attempt the next day from this location. Here we were, 6.5 hours deep into our daytrip.

After the lake, we found the difficult powder snow we'd been missing, which continues up into the upper basin at ~12.4k. We plowed trail, on through another wall of fatigue, and eventually found ourselves looking up at the K2 / Clark Saddle. Dang, it sure did look quite a ways up. The basin is a big U-shaped amphitheater, surrounded by snow on all sides except the way you came up. The saddle is guarded by avy slopes on all aspects. Really, this place is a death trap if snow is unstable.

We were feeling gassed, and we did not want to move slow through this terrain. I suggested to Ryan: ââLet's try to catch a quick catnap?'â Ryan was dubious as to whether sleep would find us, but we both had 8000m parkas, and he welcomed the idea of a longer break. We spotted a largish boulder, and a bit of digging on the leeward side yielded a hollow next to it large enough to provide a bit of shelter from the strengthening winds. I set an alarm on the phone, and closed my eyes for a bit. Why were we so tired? Maybe the fact we daytripped Kit Carson and Challenger just a couple days prior was contributing? Plus, it was really cold.

Ryan and I passed the last cold hour of the night at 12.6k in a half nap. This afforded a necessary bit of rest 8 hours into our âzero zzzzs' summit bid. All told the stop/bivy occupied another hour. Up to this point, we'd burned 1.5 hours of the trip on rest, so as I dozed, I couldn't help but ponder if that would cost us the summit. Why do it? Because we were well equipped, experienced, and understood that it would give us extra gas in tank to move quickly up the slope to the K2 / Clark Saddle, as well as the long day to come. Plus, it was still dark, and we didn't want to hit the ridge before sunrise.

The cellphone alarm soon signaled that it was time again to hustle, and I realized the audacity of our situation. We had marches across 10 miles of winter terrain, breaking trail for much of that. We had 2 hrs. of sleep, the sun was not yet up, and we had a sketchy avy slope to boot up. I was shivering, legs still feeling empty, and all of the real work was still in front of me. Really, I'm not trying to overstate the challenges associated with this peak in winter, but rather try and put into words the feelings of the moment.

Mountaineering is made up of a series of small steps and goals.

ââCan I make it to that rock before stopping?'â
ââShoot, I made the rock, let's go for the outcropping before stopping?'â

For us, the next stop was the saddle which was the next (and only) safe zone prior to K2. Unfortunately, we had that pesky 600' of avalanche basin to get there. I resumed the lead, and blasted up towards the saddle at max output, leaving Ryan behind in the lower safe(ish) zone. A few shooting cracks broke away minor 4'â bits of wind slab, but below that it was as solid as N. aspect CO winter snowpack can be. Speed. When fully committed to unavoidably hazardous terrain, the only ally here is speed. I moved quickly up the slope, and happily our appraisal of snow conditions was spot on.

Why am I here? Iâm here because moments like this are everything.

At the top, I ponder. I'm alone, cold, and tired. While the surroundings are inhospitable, this is real. Watching the sun break the plane of the horizon and touch the snow laden slopes of Capitol, Snowmass, and shone over the Bells, all in tones of pink and purple is a sight which few are blessed enough to see. Yet here I stood watching the day come to life, and saying good morning to the sun. I recall welcoming the warmth on my face, the color forcing out the dark. I think of life, those in my life who matter most, and the blessings that enable me to experience such fleeting moments of purity and joy in an otherwise trivialized modern existence.

Looking back onto Ryan, as he heads up to join me at the saddle. Daly in background.

When you think of it, life is made up of memorable moments. By definition, all moments are fleeting. However, some moments are of such magnitude that they become the measure of one's life. Truly, if life is worth living, it is by these moments of magnitude that we measure the meaning of our life. Finding myself alone at the K2 / Daly saddle watching Ryan push up the slope as the day began to break behind him measures as a moment of magnitude.

Wordsmithing banter aside, when Ryan meets me at the saddle, we grin at eachother like a couple of hypoxic fools.

Land of cold and dark has turned into gold and warmth.

After taking advantage of a weak cell signal to let friends and family know our progress, we turn our eyes towards the start of the real work to be done. Sunrise has a funny way of re-energizing you, and we were definitely stoked to set off onto the ridge!

Ryan may or may not be excited. You decide.

After months of planning, and paying the hefty price of admission, I was pretty excited to be here, and tackle Capitol in winter conditions. We look up towards Mr. Cappy Cap. It's still shrouded in dawn, and the moon hangs over it in violet skies, bathing the snow laden slopes in pink alpenglow.

Hey, the moons there. Thatâs a good sign, right?

This may be a timely point in the trip report to mention that you should probably know what you are doing to be up here in winter. This is a very real mountain. The ridge is constantly exposed, and if you make a mistake on that ridge, it'd likely be your last. If that sounds dramatic, consider the death toll on Capitol 2017 during summer. Respect the mountain, and bring the required skills because everyone is just a bag of bones. ââThe mountain does not care''. I digress. Onward.

After devouring gummy bears, melting snow, and stashing our poles and flotation, we plod up the deep snow to summit K2 in uneventful fashion.

So, Ryan's been up here a couple winters already, but here's a fun fact: I've never done Capitol, not even in summer conditions. We stand on K2, and looking onward, and it's all a jumble of rocks and snow that we've got to figure out. It's an unfamiliar mountain, certainly, but a very familiar alpine challenge. It's a ridge, it all goes, right?

From the top of K2, we elect to head directly down, skiers right of a cliffy feature. Our downclimb from K2 was tricky with thin snow coverage. Pretty sure it isn't a summer âroute', but it went. The meandering downclimb was no more difficult than awkward âclass 4' (what the hell is class 4, anyway?), but with crampons and snowed over holds it felt tricky. Happily, everything was still frozen together, so the infamously loose K2 was a non-issue. Ryan took the lead here, and spotted me out on one tricky move (awkward reverse mantel-thingy off of a large slabby rock.) #shortguyproblems.

Once to the low point between K2 and Capitol the ridge looked long, exposed, and reminded me of some of the classic ridge route's I've seen in the European Alps. Ryan decided to boogie out first to start the festivities. The first portion of the ridge reads similarly to most other ridges in winter. Check your footing, don't catch a point, careful not to slip, because it's super exposed and you're gonna have a bit of a tumble if you goof.

The knife edge was a bit drier than I'd seen from past winter TRs. While obviously exposed, good hands on rock and feet on snow made quick work of the knife edge.

We made quick work of the section between the knife edge and the winter crux.

The crux of the winter route, should you not send the NE ridge directly, is a fantastically exposed rising traverse on steep snow cutting across the SE aspect of the Capitol ridgeline. It is absolutely no fall territory, and many choose to rope up for this portion.

I carried a rope, slings, and some light pro, but preferring speed I volunteered to take the lead and continue on ropeless up to the summit. There was less snow on the traverse than I thought, and I found 8-12'â of thin coverage on top of loose rocks and slabs. Sort of supportive now, but after it bakes, who knows? Who cares? Those are ââfuture Justin'â problems anyways.

After crossing the face, we find ourselves on slightly milder terrain which goes by quickly until the technical crux of the winter route. It's some sort of exposed 5.whatever pull/mantel through a pseudo-dihedral thingy back up to the ridge proper. In any case, I try one move which feels sketchy with poor hands, but dispatch it on the second try. Ryan followed quickly behind, taking less time than I to pull the âone hit wonder' move. From there, it is mild scrambling to the summit. When I find myself on top of a difficult peak, do I ever enjoy a difficult summit in the moment? Truly, I am not sure. Mostly I'm aware that the real work is yet to be done, and keen to keep moving.

âThe summit. Holy crap! We did it. Neat. Holy shit. Letâs tell people we made it safe. Take a few pictures. Itâs hot as

It was cool that Ryan saved his 14er finisher for Capitol in winter, and I was glad to be there to share that. Not only is Ryan a good dude, he's ridiculously strong in the mountains. Not just physically, but mentally. Our like-minded mental toughness through a sleep-deprived approach slog is really what pulled us through the night. Once on the ridge, we were able to move efficiently, not simul-ing or using any protection heading up.

As we stand on the summit, taking the pre-requisite selfie, it is obvious the temps had risen dramatically. It was well above freezing even at 14k. In case you aren't in the know: high temperatures while you are on the summit at 10:20 am mean eastern aspect snow will be in terrible condition, because it has been warmed by sunhit. Basically, the entire route we would have to downclimb would be very soft, unsupportive, mushy snow. Soâ¦. We took a few photos, sent some messages to fam and friends, and turned tail to start the trip down. Getting down Capitol in winter is arguably more difficult than going up.

While looking for a place to set an anchor to rappel off the summit block, we find Jeff, Jim and Will's anchor from last December. After inspection, the anchor is still bomber (thanks fellas), and we were happy to utilize!

After taking care of business on the first rappel, we found ourselves at the exposed face traverse mentioned earlier. We rigged an anchor, and Ryan rappelled down first. Turns out, my 40m was not quite enough to avoid all the sketchy snow turned mush on the steep slab. Ryan hollered up that I might break the anchor down, drop 20 or so vertical down the ridge (not trivial), set another anchor, and rappel from there. After breaking the anchor and downclimbing, it turns out another anchor is impossible with what I have. Neat. Super neat. So, I'm faced with two options 1) Re-ascend sketchy ridge in deteriorating snow to the original anchor point and rappel from there or 2) an exposed downclimb on slabs, loose rock, and across the sketchy snow. I went with option 2, which was maybe not the most prudent decision I'd ever made.

This is actually much sketchier than it may look. First rap was the knob in foreground. I'm downclimbing slabs on frontp

Descending from this point on slurpee snow, across smooth slabs and loose rubble is probably right up there with one of the more dangerous situations I've been in. Another winter TR here describes this section as ââterrifying slush stuck to 50/55 degree rock slabs'â, which is a spot on appraisal. Note that I am frontpointing on rock slabs in the photo (above) Ryan got of me. With good coverage and firm snow, It might just be a steep snow downclimb. However, with the thin unsupportive mush-snow, you try to plunge your axe into the snow, and it scrapes on rock with no bite. So, you are relying on crampon front points on slabby rock, and the tip of your tools for balance. Delicate, but doable with care. Simply, this is one of those sections where if you slip, you will die. I could not have anticipated how bad the snow would be on the downclimb. In hindsight, I should have spent the time to head back up the ridge, re-set the first anchor and rappel. I suppose there is a reason this section gets rappelled or protected in the other TR I've seen!

When I get down off of the crux downclimb, I find Ryan lounging in the sun. Since he rappelled all of the bullshittery, he is lounging in the sun, happy as a clam. I mutter ââWell, that was less than ideal''.

From here, the terrain eased slightly for a bit, but remained serious especially on two snow covered steps ridge proper.

Soon, all we have left is the knife edge. As Ryan went across the knife edge, naturally, one of his crampons popped loose. The only times they come off, are when you really don't want them to. Ryan had to exercise some awkward gymnastics in the 'no fall zone' to reattach his crampon on the slope immediate after the knife edge. Meanwhile, I'm obliged to sit on the knife edge for a few minutes. Legs just hanging in the breeze, pondering what kinda weirdos willingly subject themselves to this. It's actually pretty neat, and stands out in my mind as a highlight.

In comparison, the terrain after the knife edge to the K2 / Clark Saddle is tame. We did not resummit K2 on the way back, rather heading onto the north aspect for a snow/rock traverse. It was solid for us. Once we got back to the K2 / Clark Saddle, we finally allowed ourselves to feel some accomplishment. We summited Capitol in Winter. We did it as a daytrip. We did it sight unseen, and having never climbed it previously. We did not protect anything heading up. I did it in the style that is my preference, and we were sitting here getting sunburned where previously we were shivering. We boiled some water, ate some gu, texted family and friends and then realized we had a shitload of miles to cover before we got back to my Jeep. Well damn, that's a buzzkill.

Daytime views from our breakfast spot. Iâd summit S. Maroon two days later.

Ryan kitted up his skis, and laughed atthe snowshow peasantry (me) as he zipped right down that slope that gave us so much pause at 6am. So fast. Why am I not on skis??

Anyone who know me, knows that I do not like to glissade. The reasons don't matter much, but it's really not my thing. Sitting on your ass shooting downhill across snow at high speeds just doesn't seem very wise. For whatever reason, that day I decide to glissade down to make time.

As I begin my glissade... it's great! Thoughts race through my mind: ââwhy don't I do this all the time?'â â¦.. ââso much easier than plunge stepping'ââ¦. ââwheee'ââ¦. Well, as I gain some speed, I notice a thin black square bouncing ahead of me. What can that be?? The odd black square gains velocity, and starts cartwheeling 6 feet in the air. Curious!

Then the black square starts spitting out moneyâ¦ and credit cardsâ¦ and IDsâ¦ and I start to compute. I realize that odd black square is my wallet. Excellent. Apparently, I neglected to take my wallet out of the back pocket of my softshells. Said pocket came unzipped during glissade, and aforementioned wallet detached itself from my persons. After climbing one of the most notoriously difficult and dangerous CO 14ers in winter, I found myself scrounging all around this giant snowfield looking for $300, a handful of credit cards, and my driver's license. I can tell you, it's not as easy or glamorous as it sounds. The net effect: my wallet was some $200 lighter, and Capitol has a couple great lines of credit. The moral of the story is don't take your wallet with you into the high mountains (unless you are in Switzerland). Also, there's $200 up for grabs somewhere up there. Just saying.

After my wallet fiasco, the death march began in earnest. So hot. So much snow. Hot + snow = slooow misery. Ryan, again laughing at the snowshoe peasantry (me), zips off for some nice corn turns. I posthole with snowshoes. So pass the next couple hours.

At one point, I tell Ryan to quit sandbagging. I'm a snowshoe peasant, I get it. Just zip back to my jeep, "mr skier royalty guy", I'll even give you my key. Ryan disappears. I slog. I keep slogging. I don't see Ryan waiting for me anywhere. I slog some more. I figure he's skiing, so he's already back at my jeep.

I cross the stream to regain the Snowmass trail. It's way more annoying by daylight, and the snow is unsupportive, so it's just a continuation of the posthole/misery fest. I finally hit the trail, and I am thankful of the skin track compacted snow. While I wish I could remember these last few miles as easy, I was approaching 48h of almost no sleep. So time had thankfully slowed to where minutes feel like hours. It's great! Life is so fleeting, and now I can really savor each and every miserable slow second, every slow step, each delicious and sudden posthole of this fine deproach. I finally see the jeep! 19h in, and it is time to go get some calories!!

Nope. Ryan wasn't there (noob). Where the hell was Ryan?? He was on skis! Recall, I gave Ryan my Jeep fob. Since Ryan had my Bluetooth key-fob, I could not unlock my jeep door without setting off my car alarm for 30 minutes straight, which I did. It was really therapeutic.

I started to get a bit worried: Ryan is experienced, and on skis. He should be here! I DeLormed my wife, letting her know all the details, and telling her I was about to set off back to find Ryan. Just as I send the message, good ol' kushrocks emerges from the snow, carrying his skis on his back. While I sat for 45 minutes wondering where he was, apparently his skins delaminated due to wet snow, and he was forced to wallow the last miles without any sort of flotation. He also lost his ipod somewhere in the snow. Apparently he had a bit of an epic, right there at the end.

High fives. We had done it, we were safe, and we were fulfilled. It's only a 14er, one which has been done many time before, but we had both achieved something significant. Ryan finished his 14er list, having saving his finisher for Capitol in Winter. I had again approached a difficult winter 14er sight unseen, and came out on top. Ryan and I did it as a daytrip, with no pre-trench, and without fanfare. We did it because it was something worth doing. It was something for ourselves, that we wanted to do. Now, it is off to Qdoba in Glenwood Springs, then a long drive back to Denver. As you are sitting here, casually reading this trip report, realize Ryan and I had been up from 5am 3/14 - 12am 3/17. In that duration, we had maybe 2 hours of real sleep during that window. Winter wasn't over though! I'd daytrip S. Maroon two days later. If you've made it this far, through all these words, I'm glad you were able to hear this story. (I also feel kinda bad to have subjected you to a 4900 word TR.)

Here's a poorly done video, with some of the cruxy bits. (If wanna complain about the fisheye: just think of it as Quandary. Except it's not at all like Quandary.)

Parting Thoughts: For me, mountaineering is not just about great pictures, making your accomplishments seem big, or making others seem small. It's about how you challenge yourself, how you find yourself. It's about how you push yourself right to the brink, but not quite over. It's about how you sometimes wonder how you made it out alive. It's about the friendships you make, the experiences, and the path trodden into unknown. Ultimately, it's about pitting yourself vs. yourself and seeing who comes out on top. It's about life, and really living it. While those final words are a bit philosophical, it's what it means to me.

See you out there this winter.

Stats (Per GPS):
19.5h
16.5mi (Dawson says 14.5, not sure why the difference)
6200 vertical gained (Dawson says 5900)
Approximate Times:
Start: 10:00PM
K2: 8:00AM
Summit: 10:30AM
Car: 4:30PM

Thumbnails for uploaded photos (click to open slideshow):

Comments or Questions

Stratosfearsome	Balance 11/26/2017 6:25pm Really enjoyed this read. You find just the right pitch between poetic and technical chronicle. This is a great report and I hope you post more. Also, that's freaky how hot it got on top. Cheers. Rob
kushrocks	Finally! 11/26/2017 6:31pm Great write up of an awesome trip with a stellar partner. In my defense if you look closely you can see I anchored my ice axe for my "Crux Napping" session. Great climb with you buddy and I look forward to many more even "tougher" summits with you in the future.
WildWanderer	Congratulations! 11/26/2017 7:50pm This is an epic trip report! Thank you for sharing!
SnowAlien	Capitol snowflake 11/26/2017 8:38pm I'll have to read this essay a few more times, but my takeaways so far: 1) you make it sound depressingly harder than Quandary 2) use different skins than Ryan 3) sleep is not overrated You also seem to be making the case for earlier season summit than March due to warm temps. I know skiers always struggle with timing on this one. Superb work gents!
AnnaG22	Bravo 11/26/2017 8:51pm One hell of an accomplishment and a terrific writeup of the excursion. Congrats again to both of you!
globreal	Excellent... 11/27/2017 9:16am TR. Excellent climb. Excellent push through the no sleep. Excellent mental as well as physical effort. And all done safely. Congrats to both of you! And congrats again Ryan on finishing the 14ers!
youngk2844	Excellent Writing 11/27/2017 9:48am Wow! Who says engineers can't write? Well written and very enjoyable to read. Thanks for taking the time to post this. And, congrats on making the summit!
jbchalk	Phenomenal! 11/27/2017 4:10pm Congrats to you guys! Great write-up and pics as well, Justin. Very well done. A BIG accomplishment of which you guys should feel very proud.
TakeMeToYourSummit	BAMFs 11/28/2017 12:28am Truly inspiring! I doubt I'll ever get Cap in winter... It was fun enough for me a few Septembers back, very dry! Coincidentally; I was wondering whose vague snowshoe tracks I was following up the West Snowmass Creek route on the 25th of March (the ski tracks hid themselves better)... I even ended up going up that couloir NE of 12,903 (near the dashed line) and dropping into the Copper Creek drainage. Amazing what a week and a half of new snow and stabilizing can make. But I digress (to quote you)... again awesome work fellas!
dippold6	Incredible 11/29/2017 9:35pm Great read. Great accomplishment. Mad props to both of you!
twoton72	Inspired 11/30/2017 10:39am You guys are truly inspiring, showing strength and fortitude. Congratulations on your accomplishment!
SchralpTheGnar	Top notch 11/30/2017 5:55pm The mid hike fire truly sets this tr apart from the others. Great write up, really felt like I was walking right along next to you guys. For the kush skier, did you hike in your ski boots the whole time? What model?
JtheChemE	Thanks 12/1/2017 6:07am Thanks everyone, for taking the time to read this and for the comments. Rob - Thanks! Poetic is perhaps too generous a description of my rambling prose. I'll take it. Natalie - Hard to say on the temps! A few days of unseasonably warm weather helped consolidate the approach snow. Thin coverage up high was sketchier than it needed to be because of those high temps. Chalk - Thanks man. Your TRs have inspired for a long time, especially your Gore shenanigans. TakeMeToYourSummit - Small world! Hope you didn't find the snowshoe track too circuitous. Schralp - If I recall, Kushner brought his Spantiks for the ridge, used ski boots only while on skies
Zambo	Nice Man 12/6/2017 12:43pm I'm really glad you ended up posting this. I really enjoyed the TR and the read. I can really resonate with the sunrise feeling. There is no doubt something super special about those quiet winter mornings when you finally get a chance to reflect. Thanks for sharing all your words and experiences.
bmcqueen	So glad you posted 12/17/2017 4:04pm Great job again gents. Justin - thanks for posting.
Summit Lounger	Sweet 1/2/2018 9:06pm Nice job climbing Capitol in a day. Nice write up. Thanks for posting.
c13mueller	Sweet 3/31/2020 9:34am Thanks for the detailed post. Is there a glove you would recommend for such alpine climbing? I always seem to struggle in balancing warmth with dexterity. It's hard to really trust handholds with mittens, so I find myself tooling more than I otherwise would. Thanks for any advice.

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.

14ers.com

Social

Mobile App