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Trip Triumvirate: Jim Gattiker, Mark Schraad and Jan Studebaker
For several weeks Jim and I had been discussing the possibility of trying some winter
mountaineering. Jim had been doing some local backcountry skiing over the winter,
and I had snowshoed up several peaks in the Sangre de Cristos here in New Mexico, but
we both were interested in trying something slightly more substantial. I hadn't been
up to Colorado since late October, and I was ready for a road trip. After a little
more discussion, we decided to organize a club trip focused on a winter ascent of a
"high" thirteener.
We agreed to an attempt on Mount Silverheels (13,822 feet; 4,213 meters), which is
situated just to the south of Hoosier pass between Fairplay and Breckenridge,
Colorado. We decided to throw in a day of skiing at Wolf Creek to fill out the
weekend plans (that is, so we would have an excuse to stay in Pagosa Springs, where
we could enjoy the therapeutic pools along the San Juan River). I announced the trip
to the club, and after an overwhelmingly enthusiastic response, Jim and I were able
to convince one other person to join us. For one reason or another, Jan decided it
would be fun to hang out with Jim and I for a couple of days.
Jim, Jan and I met in the Los Alamos county parking lot late Friday afternoon and we
were on the road shortly after 4:00 p.m. After some preliminary small talk, Jim
persuaded Jan to entertain us with some of his more interesting mountaineering
adventure stories (and I had thought that, with proper training, mountain climbing
was a safe activity). The stories were indeed entertaining, and as Jan narrated, I
became convinced that he either has the best luck or the worst luck of anyone that I
know---I just couldn't figure out which one. The stories made the time pass quickly,
however, and before I knew it we were in Salida, where we stopped for dinner at Il
Vicino. After dinner, Jim and I were treated to a few more stories, including an
especially educational one about Jan's cornice-jumpin' kin (ask Jan for more
details), as we quickly made our way to Fairplay. We checked in to the historic
Fairplay Hotel a little before 10:00 p.m., discussed the climbing plans for the next
day, and were asleep shortly thereafter.
We awoke Saturday morning, had a decent breakfast at the Hotel restaurant, and made
it to the trailhead by the crack of 9:00 a.m. Access to Mount Silverheels is great,
with the trailhead located just under two miles south of Hoosier pass on Colorado
Highway 9. The guidebook gave the impression of a straightforward climb with a round
trip distance of about six miles and 3,400 feet of elevation gain (this seems to be
an accurate assessment). The morning was crisp and clear, so we layered
appropriately. The snow conditions at the trailhead dictated that we strap on our
snowshoes immediately. We did so, and we were soon making our way slowly through
soft, untracked snow up a steep, broad ridge. The three of us swapped leads through
the deep snow until we reached timberline, where the snow depth diminished and the
traveling was easier. We had been heading east up the ridge, but here we turned
north, traversed around a ridge point at approximately 12,000 feet, and crossed the
upper reaches of the Beaver Creek drainage, which was blanketed with a thin, yet
beautifully pristine layer of untracked snow.
Across the drainage the real climbing began. As we ascended the west ridge of Mount
Silverheels the views became spectacular, with the hulking masses of Mounts Bross and
Lincoln to the west and the gentle line of Quandary Peak's east ridge just to the
other side of Hoosier Pass. The peaks to the west were semi-covered in a thin layer
of morning clouds, but the skies overhead remained crystal clear. The crisp morning
temperature persisted, but we remained comfortable by staying just to the south of
the ridge crest to avoid the occasionally brisk winds. We stopped often to enjoy the
views, and although nobody mentioned it, I am sure that both Jim and Jan were as
happy as I to be the only people enjoying the grandeur of these winter wilds.
With a short bit of work, we soon reached a flat spot high on the west ridge where
the snow depth tapered off. Here we decided to stash our snowshoes and climb the
remainder of the route without them. The west ridge meets the main summit ridge at
approximately 13,600 feet. At this point we dropped our packs and cruised the
remainder of the ridge to the summit. We reached the top at approximately 1:00 p.m.
and were surprised to find the winds very calm. We sat down for a deserved rest, had
a snack, and enjoyed the views. To the west we could now see Mount Democrat peaking
out from behind Mount Bross and planning revenge by initiating impeachment
proceedings against Mount Lincoln. Further to the south we could also make out the
distinctive shape of Horseshoe Mountain, as well as the other thirteeners in the
Mount Sherman vicinity. To the south and east, across snowless South Park, Pikes
Peak was easily discernible, as it stood high above its less impressive neighbors.
It was slightly more overcast to the north, but we could still make out the
Breckenridge ski area. As usual, the views in all directions were impressive in both
scope and extent, but the majesty of the mountains seemed to be heightened with the
white covering of winter.
After about fifteen minutes on the summit we decided to make our descent, as thoughts
of dinner and a soak in the pools of Pagosa Springs entered our minds. We quickly
made our way down the main summit ridge to our packs and subsequently down to the
spot where we had stashed our snowshoes. We decided to carry our snowshoes down the
steeper portion of the west ridge and thus made great time back down to the Beaver
Creek drainage. When we again reached the deep snow we strapped the snowshoes on and
pounded our way back along the trail that we had broken on our way up. Traveling was
very easy now, and before the west ridge disappeared out of sight, I looked back one
last time at the tracks we had made to the summit. We soon found ourselves at the
top of the last steep section of ridge above Highway 9. Jim and Jan found a better
way down through the trees than the route we had taken up, so we quickly arrived back
at the truck, just after 3:00 p.m. We all agreed that this would be a fine time to
drink some beer.
We hit a (the?) bar in Fairplay, had one or three beers (depending on the
individual), and then got back in the truck for the not-so-short drive to Pagosa
Springs. Jan again entertained Jim and I with his story-telling talents, weaving a
tapestry of harrowing childhood stories and agonizingly distressing mountain
adventures that left me surprised that he is still alive. We arrived in Pagosa
Springs just after 7:00 p.m., checked in to the Spa Motel, grabbed a quick bite to
eat, and went for a long soak in the hot springs. After about an hour in the springs
we were all ready to crash for the night. Jim and Jan decided to engage each other
in a debate over who was going to have the privilege of sleeping on the floor. Being
somewhat daunted by their argumentation skills, I opted not to join in the
deliberation, quietly jumped into bed, and fell asleep.
After breakfast the next morning, we met Jim's wife Corissa and several of their
friends for a half-day of skiing at Wolf Creek. At the ski area we also ran into
(figuratively) Norbert and Lynn Ensslin, making the ski portion of the trip a much
more club-like activity. The snow conditions at Wolf Creek were marginal, but the
crowds were quite thin, so we all enjoyed a fairly relaxed day of skiing. We skied
until last run (we may have been the last skiers off of the slopes), hopped back into
the truck, and turned the wheels toward home. We stopped in Chama for dinner (I
think that I ate better on this trip than I do during most weeks), and we arrived
back in Los Alamos at about 9:00 p.m. Our not-too-late arrival gave me just enough
time to get all of my gear out of the truck, drop it all on the floor, and crawl into
bed.
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