While sitting on a knoll below Kingston Peak in the spring of 2020, I saw an intriguing mountain in the distance and soon learned that peak was called Square Top. I had wanted to climb it, but an endless list of summer objectives pushed this mountain from the forefront of my mind. As winter approached, my friends and I decided we would branch out from merely walking up mountains to trying to ski down them too. We skied James Peak on horrible hard snow in November, then heeded the season’s mounting avalanche death toll and decided to hold off on more descents until we had taken the AIARE I. With that class under our belts by late March, Square Top once again whispered to us to climb up its sloping ridges.

We arrived at the Guanella Pass winter trailhead at 7:00 am to find that we could just barley squeeze ourselves into the otherwise packed lot. We began skinning up the Guanella Pass Road which was choked with hardpacked snow for the entire 1.5 miles to the summer trailhead, which can be easily identified by the small bathroom building there. We then turned southwest and followed South Park Trail 600 to Square Top Lakes over firm snow, rising and falling in small hillocks. Solitude was ours once we departed from the summer trailhead, as we only saw one other group the entire day from that point on.

We took the opportunity to dig a snow pit at around 11000’ before continuing. The snowpack was significantly shallower than we expected (only 63 cm total where we dug), which I can only guess was due to some combination of the record high temperatures that Colorado had experienced in the preceding weeks and the lack of recent storms. After reaching the bottom lake of Square Top Lakes, we took off our skis and walked, the trail being completely melted out. It was easy enough to follow the two giant ruts running parallel to each other.

We continued southwest past the lakes, until we were on the East Ridge proper. The beginning of this ridge was the steepest part of the ascent, and with skis strapped to our packs instead of on our feet this made for laborious and slow going. Thankfully, the up to 50 mph gusts of wind that were predicted never came to fruition and the sky stayed cloudless the entire day. After huffing and puffing and contemplating life, we could finally see what looked like the summit but what we all knew from experience was just the first false summit.

We left our skis stashed about halfway up the east ridge after it became apparent that the snow was not going to get any more bountiful as we continued to ascend. At this point, half our party remained with the skis and the other half decided to continue on to the summit. We had brought walkie talkies to keep in touch as we separated and I have never felt more like a true mountaineer, radioing to and from our base camp high on an 8000 m peak. I do recommend bring and using walkie talkies for this reason alone, even if you don’t need them, though it was also genuinely helpful to be able to keep contact.

The slope angle mellowed as we followed a grassy goat trail up to the false summit and then flattened completely for a short, rocky ridge walk to the true summit. My dear friends the urine-seeking mountain goats did not make an appearance, but hoof prints left in the small patches of snow belied their presence not too far off. Despite what I can only imagine was a block party on the top of Mount Bierstadt only a few miles away, we were the only ones on the summit of Square Top on this bluebird Saturday. The wind and weather complied to give us a peaceful time on top, soaking in the panorama of every single 14er in the front range.

Reluctantly, we walked back down to the rest of our group and our skis. We had one skier, one snowboarder, and two splitboarders in the group, and we all dove headlong into readying our respective gear for descent (we all know the skier was ready first). We skied a small bit of snow going skiers right down to a much larger, steeper and icier snow field on the eastern edge of the south face (from around 13000’ to 12400’).

I looked down at the porcelain slope, going almost unbroken to the bottom of the bowl. I felt the glassy ice beneath my ass and thought about tumbling down. I thought about how I had no idea if I could stop myself or not if that happened. After announcing to everyone that I was scared, I decided to woman up and board slide down this mean looking thing. After successfully keeping my pants unsoiled, we veered left to try to regain the east ridge and then unclipped and walked to get to the next snowfield. We took another series of small snowfields back to Square Top Lakes, all fun, none nearly as heart pounding or vertiginous as the first. After the lakes, we followed our ascent route as much as possible, using a combination of shorts rides with frequent unclipping and walking interspersed.

During the ascent, we hoped the sun would warm the snow fields before we got to them to make for a more enjoyable ski. It didn’t. During the descent, we hoped the snow would remain firm and hard so we could walk out without having to transition back to skinning. It didn’t. This fun cocktail of exactly the wrong snow at exactly the wrong moment was a challenge I didn't know I was signing up for 11 hours previously, but now there was no choice.

Being much less experienced on my splitboard than the rest of the group, I was frequently unable to follow the routes from point to point they were taking on the way back. They skillfully avoided the flats, bushes, and boulder heaps. I would try for the general direction of the rest of the group, but quickly become mired in heavy, slushy, waist deep snow when I would inadvertently wander onto a flat stretch, with no hope of snowboarding out. Generally, this meant a lot of crawling on hands and knees until I could clip in and make a bit more progress, but this slowed my pace to a crawl (quite literally) and dusk began to throw long shadows onto the tundra.

Long after the glow of reaching the summit had vanished from my psyche and was replaced by the dread of approaching darkness and fatigue, we were finally spit back out onto the Guanella Pass Road. All that was left was to ride down the broad, hard packed road. My legs decided they had other plans though, perhaps a vacation to the beach, and so with every few feet gained I fell on my ass as my legs wobbled and my abs gave out. I ended up walking the last mile while the others skied down. We arrived back at the parking lot at 7:00 pm to find we were the last remaining vehicle. I had never been happier to take off my snowboard boots.

Even though I was far behind the rest of the group, my gloves were soaked through from crawling in slush, and my feet and calves screamed at me to never do this again, all I could think of on the drive home was how grateful I was for the group I skied with and what peak was next.

Total Mileage: 12 miles

Total Gain: 3,500 feet

Total Time: 12 hours

Skied with Josh, Rylei, and @Jakethesnake_630