Adam L. Reiner – Splitboarding, mountaineering, and lifestyle in the Colorado Rockies

This past weekend was my second annual spring hut trip. Last year, we had a fun group of couples for three nights in the Green-Wilson Hut, in which I was able to tag a line up and down the Conundrum Couloir as well as an unnamed couloir on the east face of Castle Peak. This year, instead of a couples trip, I recruited a solid group of three other splitboarders for a backcountry ‘bro-fest’.

We camped out in the parking lot of the Ashcroft Ghost Town on Thursday night, just as the town’s inhabitants had over 100 years ago, gaping in awe of the same enormous mountains surrounding us.

The view from Ashcroft

We awoke at dawn on Friday, still missing one splitboarder. Nevertheless, we left a note and started out on our way. One skier was with us as well, but he would not last through the days journey. We skinned up the entire route on Castle Creek Road, and later Pearl Pass Road. It is because of these ancient mining and transportation routes that makes this area so popular and advantageous for backcountry skiing and snowboarding. The first portion of the trip was a very moderate 3 miles, which gave us plenty of time to gape out at the huge avalanche paths that we crossed along the way. While we were safe from those slides since we had a stable spring snowpack, we couldn’t possibly imagine the fear of crossing these things in the dead of winter!

Starting up the road, crossing the avy chutes on Greg Mace Peak on the left.

After a few hours, we arrived at the popular Tagert and Green Wilson Huts. Although this wasn’t our destination (as nice as it would have been), we stopped out on the porch for a break. Not ten minutes after we stopped did another splitboarder approach us. It turned out to be our missing teammate, Ross. Happy that the group was united, we pressed onward above treeline for the much more difficult portion of the trip.

The soldiers march on above tree-line

The east face of Castle Peak, looking like bad conditions.

Unfortunately, the skier in our group just couldn’t cut the mustard. As much as we tried to convince him that it would be worth the trip to the hut, he eventually decided to ski down. I took a few action shots before continuing on up.

Making our way across ‘Mace Saddle’

From here, routefinding was very important. We did not want to accidentally descend into Cooper Creek (only to end up back at Ashcoft after a nasty bushwack), and we didn’t want to cross over the Elk Range at a location other than Pearl Pass, which could have deadly consequences. Finally, after rounding the southest buttress of Pearl Mountain, we could see a sign far off on the ridge, which looked like a person standing on top of Pearl Pass.

Pearl Pass sighted, but it still looks so far away!

Getting closer…

The final pitch was the steepest of all. With the low avalanche danger, we stuck to the road and skirted around the headwall.

Mike nearing the top of the pass, while I scoped out some cool rock crags. I wonder if anyone climbs them in the summer?

I was the first one to reach the top of the pass, and let out the loudest yell my tired lungs could muster. After eight hours of travel, we finally reached the height of our climb, at 12,705 feet! The sign said we were 18 miles from Aspen and 19 miles from Crested Butte. The four of us took in the fresh air and solitude of being so far away from civilization.

Pearl Pass conquered by splitboarders!

By now, it was nearing five o’clock, and we still had to find the hut. Thankfully, Lou Dawson was nice enough to supply the GPS coordinates in his guidebook, which I had already pre-programmed into my Garmin. From the top of the pass, we would have to take a leftward trend into the bowl, and the hut should be right at tree line. I watched my three teammates descend into the bowl before I brought up the rear.

Talking over the descent. After eight hours of climbing, we were finally able to snowboard!

Mike dropped in first…

Ross ollies the drop

Followed by Ed

Finally, I spotted the hut, right where it was supposed to be!

We made a few more turns before taking the boards off for good.

Up next: The June Couloir of Star Peak in a blizzard!

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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!

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

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!

Yours truly, holding “the stash” in my hand

Narrative and photos by Adam L. Reiner

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.

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.

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!

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!

The incredible bonus find!

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

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.

A look down my descent line.

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.

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

MORE PHOTOS OF THIS TRIP

Narrative and photos by Adam L. Reiner