San Luis Peak 14,021′, Peak 13,155′
Colorado 14ers
Total Time: 12:30
Distance: 13.9 miles
Elevation Gain: 5900′
Crux: Class 3 (ridgeline)
Trailhead: San Luis Pass Trail, no services
I sort of assumed when I first moved to Arizona I would get to Colorado at least once a year, the drive from Phoenix to the edge of the San Juans taking about 6 hours. But 5 years later, I had only made the drive once, taking four days to climb Wilson Peak, Handies, Wetterhorn and Uncompahgre, and Redcloud and Sunshine Peaks. I had some unexpected vacation time I needed to use up, and although May would not provide ideal conditions in the San Juans, it seemed like a good chance to try and clean out the subrange, climbing San Luis Peak, Mount Sneffels, Mount Wilson and El Diente over four days. In an attempt to get the longest leg of driving out of the way, I decided to climb San Luis Peak first. Normally a class 1 route, I didn’t have a great idea of the condition I would encounter, the very isolated summit not seeing much spring traffic. Thanks to the long drive and one hour time change, I didn’t arrive in Creede, CO until close to midnight, finding a spot to park off the road not far from the trailhead. I awoke at sunrise to finish the driving, finding the last mile blocked by a large snowdrift. It was early enough for the packed snow to hold my weight, and after parking at a pulloff, I hopped out of the car and into the snow. Some deep post holes indicated that others had been up this route recently, and that I needed to move quickly before the sun warmed things into a sloppy mess.
I followed the road through patches of snow to the normal trailhead and continued a bit further, cutting east at a sketchy snowbridge over a creek to gain a shallow ridge leading up to the saddle between Peak 12591′ and 13285′. From the saddle I had my first view of San Luis Peak, looking absolutely massive with 2,000′ of elevation and two snowy basins separating me from the summit.
I continued along the trail, dropping into the first basin forming the headwaters of Spring Creek, the snow still firm enough to hold my weight. But as I dropped back below treeline, the softer snow in the shade of the large pine trees had me post holing immediately. It was a bit amusing at first, having not seen snow since Agassiz Peak in January. But as my progressed slowed to about a half mile per hour and my boots quickly became soaked through, the novelty wore off.
Some tracks through the snow made progress a little easier, and the snow firmed a bit as I neared the creek and left the trees. I made a beeline for patches of dry grass and cut up the steep slope to the ridge separating the two basins below Point 12562′. The second basin was just as snowy, but at least above the trees.
I stopped to put on my crampons, stepped out onto the steep slope, and immediately slid. It seems I did not give myself an early enough start, and the snow was no longer holding my weight. The traverse across the north facing basin would be tedious at best and outright dangerous at worst. I started to look at the terrain for other options. The ridgeline to my south was mostly snow free, and it looked like I could probably follow that around the basin over to Peak 13155′, then drop off and head up San Luis from there. Although it would have some extra elevation gain, I would bag another summit and get out of the snow. Seemed like a win-win. I took my crampons off and headed up the clear ridgeline south towards 12935′, then contoured to the east onto the snow-free ridgeline.
It was fairly easy hiking until reaching a crumbly section several hundred feet below the summit of the unnamed 13er. There was a deep notch that looked like it held some snow, and I thought the safest option was to drop of the ridge on the north side on talus to avoid the ice. The scree and talus slope was loose, and I had to drop at least 150′ to get below the ice patches, only to climb back up on horrible crumbly third class rock to regain the ridge. Classic San Juan garbage choss…
Back on easier terrain, I reached the impressive summit block of the unnamed 13er, and for a second thought it wouldn’t go without gear. However, after circling the block, I found a steep class 3 ramp on the northeast side with a somewhat exposed step and mantle to the summit. A small jar summit register was tucked in the rocks, the peak only seeing 2-3 people per year.
Even at 13k, San Luis Peak still loomed above, and I dropped down to the dry saddle for the long slog up to the top. The wind was intense on the final ridgeline, and I tried moving to different sides, the swirling wind somehow getting me either direction.
After too many false summits, I topped out at the highpoint, my first Colorado 14er in nearly 3 years. I was definitely feeling the altitude, and I realized it was the highest I had been since climbing Mera Peak in 2018. I hid from the wind behind the lingering snowbanks, enjoying the views of Wetterhorn and Uncompahgre to the northwest, and the snowy Elks to the north. The Collegiate Range was clear to the northeast, although I had a hard time picking out individual summits through the haze.
It was already afternoon, the postholing and extra ridge climbing adding a good amount of time to my day, and I quickly dropped off the summit hoping to make up for lost time. I spied some footprints in the snow across the two basins I needed to cross, and decided postholing through, although tedious, would probably ultimately be faster then reclimbing the ridgeline. I crossed the first gully of snow fine, sinking to my hip in place but still fresh from my rest at the summit. But by the third long snow chute, I was already looking for alternatives, sinking to my waist and the deep wet snow sucking my crampons right off my boots. I aimed for the patches of rocks to provide some relief. I was about halfway across the first basin before saying “Fuck this,” and cutting upslope to reach the dry talus below the ridgeline.
I followed the high ground and traversed one small cornice of snow before reaching the notch below 12,562′, one more basin to deal with. On the far side, some southern facing slopes in the trees looked to be a bit drier. I decided to aim for that, and hiked through sloppy snow across the creek and into the forest. I tried to traverse to the dry area I saw from above, but quickly decided it was an exercise in futility- the amount of traversing needed to reach dry ground would probably require the same amount of post holing as going straight through the forest back to the trail. I used fallen logs as much as possible, never before being so grateful for deadfall.
I was completely exhausted by the time I reached the actual trail, but relieved that I was done was the deeper snow. Of course, my brain had blocked out all the snow drifts I had hiked up and over that morning when they were frozen solid, and I cursed every slushy mound I came across between myself and the car. Due to the excessive post holing my day took far longer than expected, hiking only about one mile per hour. Completely wiped I drove out to Creede to find some dinner, stopping briefly to watch a massive moose grazing in the creek.
Unfortunately when I reached Creede, I found every restaurant closed thanks to a combination of it being a Monday and the state slowly reopening due to COVID precautions. I planned to climb Mount Sneffels the following day and started driving towards Ouray, not finding open food until I reached Montrose. The drive was longer than I had remembered mapping, and I wasn’t in my sleeping bag until close to midnight. The thought of starting up Sneffels in under 5 hours was a bit more than my unacclimated and sore body could handle, and I switched off my alarm for an unplanned rest day exploring Ouray before an attempt for CO 14er #30.