Archive for March, 2009

Trip Report: Splitboarding Torrey’s Peak ‘Tuning Fork’

Monday, March 23rd, 2009

Torrey’s Peak (14,267′)
“Tuning Fork” Couloir

‘Tuning Fork’ is a front-range classic. While it is not overtly steep and doesn’t have scary ‘no-fall’ cliffs to navigate, what makes this climb so challenging is its intense size. With a total elevation gain of almost to 3000′, this couloir provides one of the longest snowboard descents in Colorado. However, only those with the highest levels of endurance can reap the rewards of the descent.

I have snowboarded this line before. I remember a long, sustained slope. So long, in fact, that we encountered just about every different kind of snow condition: powder, crust, corn, and hard-pack. However, I’ve never climbed up this route (instead, we had skinned up the standard hiker’s route to the summit and dropped into ‘Tuning Fork’), so I had no idea if I had the endurance to make the entire climb.

My partner and I pulled off of I-70 at the Bakeville exit around 8:00. Fortunately, the road up to Grizzly Gulch was packed down by vehicles and snowmobiles, so we were able to drive up to the trailhead and save ourselves a few miles of skinning.

At the Grizzly Gulch trailhead, we could see the early morning sun start to light up the summit of Torrey’s Peak.

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Torrey’s Peak in the morning sun. ‘Emperor’ is the craggy face in the center. ‘Tuning Fork’ is on the right, and flows down the diagonal grade along the western shoulder of the mountain.

Although my partner and I had discussed ‘Tuning Fork’, we hadn’t made the ultimate decision on whether or not to attemp the ‘Emperor’ . As we skinned up the gulch trail for a few miles, we could had an up close view of ‘Emperor’, and it looked very good. However, when we reached the base of it, we decided to continue on to ‘Tuning Fork’. (I look forward to coming back for ‘Emperor’).

While ‘Tuning Fork’ is somewhat hidden by the north ridgeline of the mountain, we didn’t see the magnitude of the line until we arrived at its base. There was a short, steep headwall directly at the start, and then a plateau. Beyond that, looming in the distance, the couloir climbed up towards the sky.

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The couloir is named its distinct ‘forked’ shape

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A close-up of the couloir

I thought at first we could skin up the moderate part of the mountain. However, the slope was steeper than I remembered, and shortly I traded my splitboard for my crampons and ice axe. I felt much more confident now, although I was worried as to how much the weight on my back would affect my stamina after a few hours.

At the base of the couloir, we were happy to discover that someone else had climbed it recently, and left us with a staircase already punched into the snow. No doubt that this sped up the first part of our climb.

When the couloir ‘forked’, the boot tracks went up into the right line. I chose to take the left variation, because it would come out closer to the summit and had an aesthetic ‘choke’ in the middle of it.

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Approaching the ‘fork’

After we made it past the ‘choke’, it looked as though we were on the home stretch. My estimates couldn’t have been more wrong. The couloir steepened, and the remaining 1,000 feet of this climb felt like an eternity. After leading the entire climb up to this point, I moved over an allowed my partner to lead the final pitch.

At this point, I was almost completely gassed. I focused my eyes on the step directly above each foot, and counted off each step at a time, forcing myself not to look back up until I had reached twenty steps, and repeated. Every time I looked up, I felt discouraged. It looked as if the couloir would never end!

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The end was in sight, but it never seemed to get any closer

Finally, we reached the end of the snow and I collapsed onto the Talus. Rocks never felt so comfortable! We still had a couple hundred feet to reach the summit, but I was relieved to take the splitboard off my back and scramble up, unburdened.

Although the most direct line to the summit would have been up to the west ridge, and then a short hike from there, I scrambled over to the ‘Kelso Ridge’ on the east side, to scope out the entrances to ‘Emperor’ and ‘Dead Dog’. (which, as I discovered both top out in the same location on each side of ‘Kelso Ridge’) After checking them out, I made the short walk up to the summit and took in the view.

I was all alone on the summit. However, when I hiked back down a few feet to check on my partner, and then returned, I almost fell off the mountain in surprise when four other residents suddenly materialized on the summit!

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Four gendarmes guarding the summit

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The team achieving the summit

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View to the west of the 10-Mile Range and Breckenridge ski area. In the center, far off in the distance, is Pacific Peak

It was nearly 4:00 by the time we left the summit. It had taken us nearly 5 hours just to bootpack the couloir.

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As we scrambled down the steep talus to our ski gear, the locals kept on eye on our safety

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Looking down at the descent

While we encountered a few clouds during the climb, the weather had held for us all the way to the summit. However, it didn’t appear as though the sun had warmed up the snow surface much, so we were forced to descend on some variable conditions (reminicent of my previous descent on this line).

Like before, the middle section of the couloir held the best snow, and the angle was moderate enough to take a few high speed turns with associated ‘whooping’ along with them.

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Making turns down the couloir

Approaching the ‘choke’
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The descent was so long, we had to stop to take a few breaks. Finally, we reached the bottom and returned to the snow-covered road. We reached the car roughly 8 hours after we left it in the morning, totally gassed out. ‘Tuning Fork’ is not a climb for the faint of heart or weak of legs. However, the rewards are worth it on one of the most classic descents in Colorado.

Also worth noting was that I had realized early in the morning that we were climbing this route on March 20: the last day of winter. This gave me a strong boost of motivation, to make my first ever ‘winter ascent’ of a 14er.

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Trip Report: Splitboarding Herman Gulch 3/11/09

Thursday, March 12th, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009.
Herman Gulch, Arapaho National Forest

Herman Gulch is a popular backcountry destination for us front-rangers. With its close proximity to the continental divide, it offers a high elevation trailhead. As well, the gulch itself is very well protected from the wind. Lastly, the amount of available lines in one gulch alone are endless.

Although I had never been up here, a friend of mine had scouted out a long, broad, and steep powder gully on the north ridge of the gulch, not a very far hike from the trailhead.

When we arrived at the trailhead at roughly 9:00, it was under blizzard conditions. Forecast was calling for it to clear up at some point, but we had no idea when. Nevertheless, we suited up with goggles and face masks and headed up the trail.

Like many Front Range approaches, the first mile or so into Herman Gulch is relatively flat. While it makes for an easy skin up, a concerned splitboarder should make a mental note of the depth of snow, to be recalled later on when trying to ride out through the flat terrain.

After less than an hour, we arrived at the base of the gully. The first pitch looked steep, with trees on the left and rocks on the right. I couldn’t really see above the first pitch, both because it disappeared behind the steep face, and also because the snow and fog was so thick.

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Entering the foggy chute

We started skinning straight up the gully. At first we cut a few switchbacks, but soon realized that our skins were able to grab and climb straight up the slope. The snow was variable, but in most areas there was about 3″ of fresh snow over a hard layer. Some spots were total hard packed. The wind was much softer than my previous excursion on James Peak.

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I’m amazed our skins held on such a steep pitch

After the first pitch, the grand size of the gully came into view. It was a lot larger than I had anticipated, but I got even more excited about what I’d see at the top.

After about 1200′ of climbing, my partner was at the top, and I was just below him. This was the hairiest part of the climb. The slope was hard and icy, and I started to lose the glue on one of my skins. Frustrated, I took off my boards and bootpacked up the final 100 feet. Since I hadn’t anticipated any steep exposure today, I was a little jittery from that little experience, so I breathed a sigh of relief when I was safely at the top.

Although it was still foggy and snowing, I was able to take a few pics of the surrounding areas. We could barely make out Pettingell Peak and the Citadel to the West.

Right before our descent, as if on cue, the clouds started to disperse. Perfect timing! The high peaks to the West came into view, and we identified some very sweet couloirs to add to the tick list. To the South, the large hulking mass of Torrey’s Peak appeared out of the mist, right before our eyes.

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A quite ethereal photo and rare angle of Torrey’s Peak from the Northwest. Tuning Fork Couloir is dead center. (Call me out if I’m wrong.)

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Looking down at my line

When the skies opened, we both took off down the slope. The snow was better than I thought. I pretty much let my Voile do all the work, and straightlined it down the mountain, making very short, snappy turns in about 5″ of powder. It has been a long time since I’ve had a long, sustained, 1000′+ vert on a constant powder slope, without having to make a sketchy jump turn, or traverse around some rocks. There was plenty of “whooping” going down the mountain that day!

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My partner skiing the broad slope. Thats Pettingell Peak on the continental divide in the background.

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As I look back up at the skier making wide S-turns, I thought about how different our riding styles are depicted based on the tracks!

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Yours truly, holding “the stash” in my hand

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Narrative and photos by Adam L. Reiner

MORE PHOTOS FROM THIS TRIP HERE

Trip Report: Snowboarding Beaver Creek’s “Bald Spot”

Thursday, March 12th, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
“The Bald Spot” of Beaver Creek (12’161′)
White River National Forest

During my many trips to Beaver Creek ski area in the past four years, I’ve always been interested in hiking to “The Bald Spot” but have never done so. It is a fairly popular “slackcountry” ascent, and I’ve known many people to do it.

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Beaver Creek ski area from I-70. The “Bald Spot” is the obvious treeless knob.

Nevertheless, I decided to stop into the Ski Patrol Headquarters at the top of the chairlift to get some information.

When I walked in, there were three patrollers in the room. One was eating lunch and looked up and asked if he could help me.

“Yes. I’m looking for some information about hiking The Bald Spot.” I said.
“Umm…” he turned to another guy “Hey Johnny, do you know about the Bald Spot?”

“What do you want to know,” he asked me, sounding a little suspicious.
“Best way up, best way down, if there’s anything I should look out for.”

The first patroller was excited to help me and pointed out the window. “You can access the gate right up the hill from our shack, then…” he motioned me over to a trail map, and starting describing the route up the hill. As I already knew, it was a pretty straightforward hike up the ridge.

As he was describing things to me, ‘Johnny’ shouted out “Shawn!”. Both me and ‘Shawn’ looked over. ‘Johnny’ shot ‘Shawn’ a look and went into another room full of boss-looking guys.

‘Shawn’ continued, “This is a popular way down, and if you look across at the photo next to the TV, it shows some of the terrain.”

“So everyone basically skis the north bowl, which should funnel back to the ski area, right?” I asked, getting the picture.

Finally, the third patroller in the room spoke up. “Are you going alone? I wouldn’t recommend going alone, and without gear.”

“Well…I’ve got all my gear, just no partner. Besides, if I wasn’t comfortable, couldn’t I just take the same route back down the ridge that I used to hike up?”

Just then one of the boss-types entered the conversation. “We can’t give recommendations for anything outside of the ski area.”

I realized that ‘Shawn’ may have gotten in trouble for trying to help me out. “Sorry, man.” he said to me.

“Totally understandable,” I replied. “You showed me where the backcountry gate is. If that’s all you can do, I’m still grateful.”

I thanked them all and left. The third patroller still seemed skeptical of me risking the hike alone. After the whole encounter, I started to think maybe this could be something over my head. It was all very strange.

Regardless, I started skinning up the trail. I felt that I was educated enough and smart enough to make the right decisions out there.

As I came out of the trees and got my first view of the face, the tensioned eased. It was a relatively short hike, and I could see a half dozen people up on the ridge and skiing the face. Everything I thought was pretty much correct. I knew that ski patrol was required to react the way they did to me, but I still thought the whole risk was overexaggerated. Oh well.

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Skinning up to “The Bald Spot”. It was much closer than I had always thought for years.

A skin track and boot-track parallelled each other. After about a half hour, I made it near the top of the ridge. However, where everyone else had dropped down into the bowl, I found that there was still a little more elevation to gain. So, I left the skin track and headed due south higher up the mountain.

My extra effort was well worth it. Once I got over the crest of the slope, I was rewarded with incredible views of some craggy mountains of the northern Sawatch Range. I knew that Mt. of the Holy Cross wasn’t far, but I couldn’t see it. I assumed it was just over the summit of the Bald Spot to the south. Looking in that direction, I saw that my route would continue out over a rocky, wind loaded ridge.

The sun was out and I still had a lot of time, so I made the final push to the ridge. Standing before me, just as I thought, was the large hulking mass of Mt. of the Holy Cross. I was looking directly at the north ridge, the standard route. Seeing the mountain from this angle was new to me and very impressive!

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The North Ridge route and summit of Mt. of the Holy Cross. Many summers ago I made the grueling slogg through this never-ending talus field and summited the 3rd 14er of my career.

In addition, I discovered an amazing looking face on a mountain just to the northwest of Holy Cross. It had a huge, horseshoe-shaped northeast bowl, littered with many impressive steep couloirs! My best “guesstimate” puts these couloirs into the cirque of Turquoise Lake, and the summit above the cirque is point 13,202 just north of Mt. Jackson. If anyone has any other information to contribute to this location, please chime in!

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The incredible bonus find!

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The West face of Mt. Democrat, and the infamous scar of the “Climax” Moly mine on Bartlett Mountain.

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The author on the summit of the “Bald Spot”. Mt. of the Holy Cross over my left shoulder.

After taking the requisite photos, I said goodbye to Holy Cross and made my way down. It was slow going at first, as the entire top of the Bald Spot was relatively flat. Eventually, I made my way down to where it got steeper and met a group of 5 skiers and boarders who were just about to drop in. The top section had many exposed rocks, but nothing I couldn’t make my way around. Once I got below them, I made soft turns in about 10″ of fresh snow on the steep pitch just below the Bald Spot. The run funneled into the trees, where I encountered the dreaded “luge-gully” and finally exited back in the ski area.

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A look down my descent line.

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Looking back up at my tracks (and a few others)

After it was all over, I could have had a laugh at the reaction I got from the ski patrol earlier in the day. However, I held back and counted my blessings, because there’s always a chance things could have gone bad, even on such a simple mission as this.

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Oh yeah, the best part about riding The Beav’…fresh cookies!

MORE PHOTOS OF THIS TRIP

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Narrative and photos by Adam L. Reiner


TR: Snowboarding James Peak (13,294′)

Tuesday, March 10th, 2009
PART ONE: Tuesday, March 3, 2009

The first of March brings about a turning point in my snow activities. After three solid months of ripping through endless powder lines at ski areas like Highlands, Vail, Breck, Keystone, Telluride, Steamboat, and Monarch, I slowly withdraw myself from the chairlifts and begin to think big…”teener” big.

For my first big mountain climb of the spring season, I chose a local classic: James Peak. This prominent mountain west of Denver is named after Dr. Edwin James, the botanist who happened to be the best climber of Stephen Long’s expedition of 1920. Among many prominent climbs, James is most known for his climb Zebulon Pike’s “highest peak”, on which he made the first successful summit of a 14er in Colorado. While the formal naming of that peak went to Pike, the peak that was named after James is no less important. In fact, with its intimidating east face complete with 5 classic snow routes, I believe it holds a much more important place in Colorado mountaineering history than Pikes Peak.

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James Peak, as my friend “Snowsavage” would say “Mini-AK, bro!”

On Tuesday, March 3, I made a solo attempt of James Peak. Because I was alone, I had no intention of challenging any of the couloirs on the east face. Instead, I planned to skin up St. Mary’s glacier and up the broad south shoulder of James Peak, and stop to check out the conditions of the couloirs.

I arrived at the trailhead around 10:30 and the weather was very clear. However, as soon as I started up the glacier, I encountered the wild winds that the front range is known for. I pressed forward, and as I crested the top of the glacier, I encountered two mountaineers taking a rest on their hike down. I stopped to talk to them a bit, exchanging stories. I was excited to hear about their successful climb of the Trough Couloir of Long’s Peak last week. As for James Peak, they told me they were planning to attempt a climb of the east face, but turned back due to high winds. I thanked them for the information and continued onward.

The bane of any skier or boarder attempting this route is the mile long flat, grassy tundra between the top of St. Mary’s Glacier and the foot of James Peak. The last time I had been here, during the much snowier winter/spring of 2007, we were able to skin across. This time, I had to remove my splitboard and hike across the meadow.

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Looking across the grassy tundra. Mt. Bancroft is on the left and James Peak on the right.

Although the hike was annoying, the scenery was beautiful, as I had some great views of surrounding mountains like Evans, Bierdstat, Grays, Torreys, Quandary, and even Pikes Peak far away in the distance.

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Gray’s Peak, Torrey’s Peak, and Grizzley Peak

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Pikes Peak, over 100 miles away!

Finally, I reached the foot of James Peak and was able to skin again. Unfortunately, the snow again ended after the first steep pitch. Since I wanted to check out the couloirs, I scrambled up to the southeast ridge to continue the climb on foot. As I groveled up the ridge, I first checked out Starlight, which had a few rocks in the middle of the entrance. Then I found the entrance to Shooting Star. Somehow, I had missed Sky Pilot, which I can never seem to find.

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Gaining the ridge for the first view of James Peak’s east face couloirs

Finally, I gained the summit of the mountain around 2:30. Although I’ve climbed this same ridge and splitboarded the Starlight Couloir before, I had never been to the summit until now. I celebrated my achievement and snapped some more photos of the Gore Range to the west, Arapaho Peak and Longs Peak to the north, and I even think I could see Mt. of the Holy Cross far away to the southwest.

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Summit achieved

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Shooting Star Couloir?

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Clear view of Denver!

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Is this Mt. of the Holy Cross? Someone help me out

The descent was less than perfect. The heavy winds had scoured the shoulder of the mountain, and most of my turns were made on the hardpacked snow. Then, as I had dreaded, I had to walk back across the grassy tundra to the glacier. On St. Mary’s Glacier I encountered the most interesting snow of all: sharp frozen waves of sastrugi. Because the top of the glacier wasn’t steep enough to toe-side my edge all the way down, I was forced to make turns all the way down. If I could describe it like anything I’ve done before, I’d say it is like trying to water ski on Lake Michigan. :thumpsup:

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Battling the relentless sastrugi

PART DEUX: Sunday, March 8, 2009

This time around, a partner recruited me to take the same ascent route, but attempt to descend the Shooting Star. This time, thanks to daylight savings time, we had more daylight and an earlier start. Unfortunately, 40 mph wind gusts made for an entirely different experience. On the glacier, the easterly wind was blowing snow straight down up on us, it was all that we could do to keep pressing forward, up the glacier and across the tundra.

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Three skiers moving up the glacier ahead of us

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Battling the wind up the glacier

On the south slope, there was a little bit more snow than there was five days earlier. Although I was able to skin up much farther than before, I still had to skin over some rocks that were barely covered with the light dust.

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View back towards my partner on the grassy tundra

We continued to press ahead, and the time was burning away. Because of our battles with the intense wind, it took almost six hours to move as far as it would normally take four hours. Finally, just a few hundred feet below the summit, we turned back. In the words of my partner “I felt a wind gust actually PICK ME UP OFF THE GROUND!”

Although I was pretty bummed about aborting Shooting Star, I thought we could at least do Starlight. However, my partner reminded me that we would again be battling the wind as well as waning daylight when trying to hike back up out of the bowl below the east face. Cutting our losses, we descended the shoulder and made the all-too-familiar walk across the tundra, and painful descent down the glacier. :(

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Close up shot of the east face

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View of the entrance to Starlight Couloir

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Superstar–the steepest of all the couloirs on the east face

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Pretty cool picture of Arapaho Peak in the foreground, and the flat-topped mountain behind it that reminds me of an ancient Mayan Temple: Long’s Peak

After my third trip up this route, I’ve written it off. If I had to advise anyone who is attempting the east face couloirs, I’d suggest the route from Mammoth Gulch out of Rollinsville. From that route, you get the advantage of actually seeing and climbing the couloirs, and can make the descent directly back to your car without dealing with the annoying flat tundra.

(and now…some new trip reporting tricks I’ve developed using this cool software my girlfriend bought me :headbang: )

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Route topo

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Route profile