Mt. of the Holy Cross

Winter Solo via Splitboard

33 Hours and 27 Minutes

26.54 Miles 7,931 Feet of Elevation Gain

Climbing the Colorado 14,000 foot peaks is something most people dream about accomplishing, in the perfect Summer months that we are rewarded. I do not understand why some of us choose to make this list more difficult in the Winter season. Perhaps it is the feeling of solace, tranquility, or isolophilia. I believe most of us do it to satisfy a feeling deep down that disregards ego, attention, and likeability.

When I started hiking these peaks in the colder months, 5-6 years ago I was not thinking of Holy Cross, or even trying to close out the "Frozen Finisher" list. As I started to get a lot of the easier 14ers checked off, I knew HC was going to be a serious mission. A partner or 3 would've been great in a perfect world. Sometimes, especially with silly lists like these you have to go when you're ready no holds barred.

My plan was simple, try to snuggle with the dog for a few hours while watching Landman. Wake up around 10-12 and head out toward Minturn. My first mistake was eating too much Carrabba's and not getting my usual dose of fast food before the start. I wound up hitting the road around midnight and spending an hour making sure my pack was ready prior to departure. The gate was filled with van lifers and bus squatters so I had to be quiet getting my stuff together. No hype music at full blast in the F150 this morning. I was expecting a ballpark of 30 miles this day, which I have not come close to in Winter and my max in summer currently.

The Tigiwon road tends to be packed down at the winter closure by day hikers, or snowmobiles. It was surely the case this morning, and I opted to boot with my splitboard on my back versus skinning off of the bat. I had not used my split this winter yet, due to the low snowpack. I suppose I forgot it is typically easier on the body to skin than boot with suffering shoulders.

I departed just around 2:45am and neared the summer trailhead almost at sunrise, not good nor bad timing. It was a tracked road to this point which I enjoyed as a nice long wake up alarm. Once reaching the summer trailhead, there was a blanket of fresh powder and I knew it to be the start of one heck of a day. Little did I know I would not be reaching this point again until after the next sunrise. Pitter patter, time to get at her.

Skinning up to the pass was great, the route through the trees is quite attainable without the use of GPS. Lots of animal prints, and it was here I started to really feel the seclusion and remote nature of this area in early February. The route up for the next mile has very little avy danger and is quite cruiser to be honest. It's not until you near the pass that you start to make more careful decision making, including cutting the last switchback just before topping out. There's something sweet about laying down a bomber skin track, and looking back at it with a smile portraying sheer bliss.

At last, on top of the pass I was starting to get giddy about a possible smooth descent down to the creek by looks of unending powder snow. Some things tend to be too good to be true and unfortunately I was victim to this saying prior to a borderline calamity. There is a typical winter bypass route, that avoids the summertime (standard) switchbacks leading to the creek bed. I believe the standard is referred to on some maps as trail #2009. I initially dropped down too low heading for the bypass, and was too lazy to put skins on and sidehill the remainder. It's funny how quickly powder will redirect your decision making with a wooden plank on your feet. Board on the back again, I started swimming through a single belly button high layer of pure sugar snow. After some choice words, especially from a mechanic, I was close enough back on route. Will_E and Brad McQueen have much better lines through this section, I'd recommend you study their reports on this section of partaking.

Following one of the ugliest descents/plunge stepping dances I've ever had the pleasure of doing, I was making my way around house size boulders and climbing my way back out to the summer-creek trail. There are some decent bivy options or lions dens if you'd prefer with the odd chance some poor soul had to make that pit stop. After wasting 3 hours and probably a fraction of my energy I was back on the main path and skinning through the campsites.

I'm not entirely sure if it was the radiation of the sun, or the temperature that day but the snow was getting hot quick at this point. I brought a fresh stick of skin wax, scraper, and extras for the splitboard. It was at my first intention I should've used the skin wax and saved even more energy from kicking my setup into rocks in order to shed the clumping. Even the baskets on my poles were becoming 5 pounds heavier at a time from said issue. This is probably the first glance at my hard-headedness and will to suffer, if you're gonna be dumb you better be tough. Once arriving at the west side of the ridge, the trenching or skinning, will become more taxing and it is definitely further than you will expect before breaking tree line. This area can be an issue with a more dangerous snowpack, including steeper slopes and "you don't want to fall down" areas. The trenching become more labor intensive, and I was breaking a nice sweat once again here. I broke out of the trees and figure I'd make a phone call to a family member, letting them know I was going to be in for a ride. It was here I turned on my Garmin inreach and started tracking for peace of mind. Who knew if I would wind up tangling with a moose, cat, or yeti later that evening. At this point I acknowledged I was starting to crash, and hadn't taken as good of care of my body as I probably should have the day or two leading up. I knew the dog was good at the sitters for the night, and I had no obligation on returning home quickly. Most intelligent people feeling this feeling of bonk would likely turn around and come back for another attempt sometime.

It was around this point I started to deal with the best of conditions. Too many rocks to skin, and unconsolidated snow just nice enough to posthole every step. I wasted a lot of time rock hopping, and gaining the ridge several hundred yards earlier than one typically would in August. The ridge goes just fine early on, with not much if any wasted distance or elevation gain. The rock boot scootin boogie started and would continue on until late in the evening. I started to enter zombie mode while making slow progress on the north ridge. Made another call to a family member to check in on them for a change, and texted a couple buddies for peace of mind. One of the few enjoyable aspects of climbing Colorado's highest peaks in Winter, are the sunrise and sunsets. I was just under topping out the ridge when the sky turned to fire.

I continued up the ridge, and threw on the headlamp preemptively. Enjoying one of the last dozen sips of water I would have before getting back to the truck. For some reason I chose not to bring overnight supplies or a stove this trip, but had enough food to feed a small boy scouts camp. You live and you learn, but you must live right? Head down and one foot in front of another I trucked into the darkness of MHC. Summiting around 8 that evening, I almost contemplated returning on the Halo Ridge due to it's dry nature. Part of this was the repulsive line I took down the bypass, on the other hand I acknowledged the entire ridge was almost dry to Notch. Not knowing what getting off of the ridge would entail on this yellow avy day I told myself that would not be wise and it was time to suck it up. As one mountaineer told me early on, it is always best to stick with the devil you know. Knowing the summer switchbacks were not loaded, it gave me a slight peace of mind in checking it out at least.

The start of a delirious death march almost felt good, as if I was enjoying myself at the moment. Plunge stepping down the ridge, trying to avoid trapdoors and worst case scenarios seemed to be never ending. Unfortunately I did not take too many pictures leading up to this point, I felt it would be wise to focus on having a safe trip for a change with little wasted time. Not that it mattered, I wasted more time than an injured 20 something year old watching Netflix. Coming down the ridge my eyes started to play games on myself, and reminded me of going to a music festival earlier on in my life. On a better snow year, it would be best to ski down this ridge while avoiding the deadly drop off on your right had side. Once I left Club Trapdoor, I decided it would be best to just plunge step the skin track down to the creek. It was fairly tight between the trees, and one wrong turn on a snowboard at night could have ended any foreseeable progress. Once I arrived at Club Delirious it was popping off. I had run out of water around treeline, and filled up my nalgene with snow. I put this on my body in order for the heat to help me with a few shots of agua on the way out. The light shows were full on at this point, and I figured it would be best to continue trudging instead of taking a nap on one of the very few places of dry ground. I had plenty of extra warm clothing, including down pants on this endeavor but that is no substitute for a winter bag in a bivouac.

The rest was surely a brain cell killing blur, but the trip back up the standard switchbacks went well. I would give myself 30 boot steps, followed by 30 breaths and so on. I could see this area being a real danger with a more noticeable snowpack. I would not advise anybody coming across this slope multiple times without a sure fire guarantee of safety. Getting near my initial hell trench, I chose to stick closer to the pass trail this go around. This worked out beautifully, putting in a nice skin track that followed the route to a T. The sunrise gave a mutual feeling of uncertainty combined with happiness. Just before topping out, I noticed a gentleman sleeping in a tent. I was full on hallucinating just prior to this and had to pinch myself for certain realization. I hope that day went better for them than myself, I mean I worked pretty hard to make sure of that without notice. Standing on top of the pass I realized that my primary goal was accomplished, now it was time to get the fuck out of dodge. I want to say it's around 10-11 miles back to the car from this point. I could finally whip out my secret weapon that I basically carried the entire time on the other side. My legs at this point were so spent I actually fell for the first couple of turns, before grounding myself. The blisters on my feet this morning felt like I was standing on an ant pile, with hydraulic needles coming in from the side. Mentality is everything, and I was able to actually get some fun turns in back to the summer trail, or snowmobile track.

You do have to gain a minimal amount of elevation coming out of the summer trail, before you can start your Jamaican bobsled descent. The last thing I would risk is catching an edge coming down this road, but alls well that ends well. To my surprise I was able to say hello to a few awesome people on the way out, which feels good after a small day even. I will try to post more useful information regarding the route and cleaning up this report in the time to come. Memories typically come from working harder than originally thought, C'est la vie