MT. BIERSTADT
14,060 ft.
February 17, 1997
By Tim Briese
(Note: For two other trip reports on climbs I have done of Mt. Bierstadt, describing the Sawtooth and East Ridge routes, see the More Climbs page.)
I had definitely caught the 14er climbing bug by now, and was keenly interested in extending my climbing adventures beyond the typical June to October climbing season into the long, snowy alpine winter. I had read that Mt. Bierstadt is a good 14er to climb in the winter, with an accessible trailhead at Guanella Pass, so what better place to give winter climbing a try?
After waiting a couple of weeks for a good weather day, I left early one morning with my friend Bruce and drove west of Denver to Guanella Pass at 11,670 feet. The road was snowpacked and icy in some places, but it had been plowed and was generally in good shape. One of the challenges of winter climbing is access, because roads to most mountain trailheads are not plowed. We were greeted by a stiff gale blowing out of the southwest when we stepped out of my truck, and I immediately discovered another fact about winter climbing: that the weather in the high country may be markedly worse than the weather at home along the Front Range. Bierstadt loomed above us to the east, and we were encouraged by the fact that its west slopes appeared rather wind-scoured and did not hold extensive fields of snow.
At 8 a.m. we left the trailhead, dressed in our warm winter gear, with snowshoes strapped to our packs, and headed downhill on crusty snow on a gradual mile-long descent to the east into the Scott Gomer Creek drainage. Mt. Bierstadt is an unusual mountain to climb, in that one descends a bit for the first half of the route before the actual climbing begins. The infamous bushy willows that once impeded the progress of climbers on this route were hardly to be seen, as they were almost entirely hidden by several feet of snow that had drifted into the valley and covered them up. (The Colorado Fourteeners Initiative has built an excellent trail that now provides easy passage through the willows.) The snow was hard enough that we were able to walk right across its surface, at least until we reached the far side of the valley and began to posthole through it here and there. At this point we decided to stop and put our snowshoes on, and then began to climb Bierstadt’s west slope. We noted with pleasure the traction that the teeth on the bottom of our snowshoes afforded as we hiked upward on slopes of slippery, hard packed snow.
The wind was at our backs, fortunately, blowing at 30 miles per hour or more, and it became even stronger as we went higher. I was comfortably protected by my wind pants and coat, with nothing exposed to the elements except my face. We paused frequently to catch our breath and gaze at the winter scenery around us. As we gained elevation distant peaks came into view, with Grays and Torreys to the west, Longs far off to the north, and various other high summits to the southwest, all capped in a majestic mantle of white. There was no trail to follow, so we simply picked our own way upward, occasionally coming across the footprints of other winter climbers who had gone before. The slope had a cover of snow in some places, and bare tundra and rocks in others. We tried to stay on the snow as best we could to avoid wear on our snowshoes from the abrasion of rocks. We ascended at a nice pace, in spite of the fact that it is much more strenuous to hike uphill with snowshoes than it is to climb on dry terrain with hiking boots.
When we neared the crest of Bierstadt’s south ridge at 13,700 feet, the terrain became rockier with less snow, so we removed our snowshoes and climbed upward across the rocks without them. Now we tried to stay on rocks and avoid the snow, the opposite of what we had done before. In short order we scrambled up the final 300 feet on the rocky ridge and stepped atop the summit at about 11:15.
The wind was howling ferociously on top, perhaps at 50 to 60 miles per hour, and the temperature was a brisk 22 degrees. Bruce hollered out to me over the roar of the gale, “I wonder what it’s like when it’s really windy up here!” I briefly gazed down the steep slopes dropping away from the summit, and noted a big bank of snow with a cornice along Bierstadt’s east face. Mt. Evans stood tall a mile to the northeast, with its domed astronomical observatory perched near the summit. I wondered if anyone used it at this time of year. We quickly took a few pictures, signed the summit log, and left in about ten minutes.
The descent was pleasantly easy. The wind lessened when we got back below the crest of the ridge, and we rapidly picked our way down across the rocks and snow, half sliding and half walking on patches of snow where we could. A couple of times we sat down on the seat of our nylon pants and glissaded down slopes of snow for a hundred feet or more. This was great fun, and reminded me of childlike play.
Occasionally we paused to look about at the grandeur of the wintry landscape around us. Nature is beautiful wearing any of her seasonal faces.
We saw about eight or ten other climbers on Bierstadt’s slopes during the day, but we did not directly encounter any of them, for it appeared that no two parties took the same route. When we reached the base of the west slope we began postholing into the snow again, so we put our snowshoes back on as we hiked into the valley and began the gradual ascent back to the trailhead. I was beginning to tire a bit, and it became harder to pick up the snowshoes and put them back down without stepping on the other one as we trudged along. That final uphill mile seemed rather long. The wind had lessened considerably, though, and the air was relatively warm by the time we reached the trailhead at about 1 p.m.
I was pleased with the success of my first winter 14er climb. It turned out to be quite doable, and a lot of fun. I believe one of the biggest keys in winter climbing is to wait for a day with reasonable weather, for to climb in anything worse could be dangerous. Nice days in the winter, with good visibility and moderate wind, are unfortunately rather rare in the high country, but they do occur. In spite of its challenges, winter climbing offers several advantages like solitude, obstacles being covered by snow, and the elimination of the summer thunderstorm threat. This outing opened up for me a whole new realm of winter adventure possibilities.
