14,229 ft.

January 25, 2002

By Tim Briese

During previous winters I often considered a climb of a 14er in the Sawatch Range. I was deterred, however, by the fact that virtually all of them require over 4000 feet of elevation gain, which is quite a bit of climbing to do on snow, at least for me, particularly given the short hours of daylight at this time of year. On a ski trip to Monarch in early January I noticed that Mt. Shavano had virtually no snow on its southeast slopes, and realized that this might be the best opportunity I had seen to try a Sawatch winter climb.

I waited for a nice day and left home at 5 a.m. under a starry sky. I admired the beautiful sight of the sunlight just beginning to hit the high peaks in the Sawatch Range as I descended into the Arkansas River Valley. I was dismayed, however, but hardly surprised to note that the wind was blowing plumes of snow near the summits of Mt. Princeton and Mt. Yale on this clear morning. I have learned that wind is almost a given in winter climbing. A few minutes later I drove up the nice Chaffee County backcountry road through juniper tablelands that took me toward the Blank Gulch Trailhead. I saw a herd of 40 or 50 elk standing in a brown meadow gazing at me as I drove by. I previewed Mt. Shavano as I approached the mountains and noted that there was more snow on it now than there had been earlier in the month, but the amount still did not look significant.

I reached the trailhead and struck off up the trail a few minutes after 8 a.m. with my labs Allie and Jorie. I wished I had started a little earlier to give myself as much time for the climb as possible, for I knew that the sun would be setting by about 5:00 in the afternoon. I decided that I needed to reach the summit by 1 p.m. in order to avoid returning in the dark. I was not about to take any chances with my safety, especially on a solitary winter climb. It had been nearly three months since I had done any high altitude hiking, and I wasn’t sure how rapidly I would be able to climb, especially on snow part of the way. I had my snowshoes and ice ax along in the car but decided to leave them behind after carefully studying the high slopes above.

At the trailhead register I saw that about 15 people had climbed Shavano by this route in January, and about the same number had done so in December as well. The most recent climb was three days prior to my attempt. Bob Martin from Buena Vista, the guidebook author and the first person to climb the 2000 highest peaks in Colorado, had been on the trail four days before. I felt as if I were following in the footsteps of fame.

Tracks of other climbers had vanished under a couple of inches of fresh snow that had fallen the day before, so I had to pay close attention to identify and stay on the trail as I hiked up through the woods. My dogs didn’t seem to have much trouble finding the trail when they wanted to, but they were unreliable guides this morning because they spent much of the time running about elsewhere in the timber nearby, sniffing out various distractions.

I was pleasantly surprised at the mild temperature of the air this morning, at least down at this low elevation, as I hiked along wearing no cold-weather clothing other than a sweatshirt that I left unzipped. I chose to wear my Sorrel snow boots rather than hiking boots for better traction in the snow and warmth for my feet. I was uneasy about the brisk wind that made a low roaring sound in the pines above, and wondered what I would face above timberline when I left the protection of the trees. The snow became deeper as I climbed higher but was still only six or eight inches deep, which was quite manageable for my snow boots and trekking poles.

When I neared timberline the snow became quite a bit deeper and I lost the trail so I resorted to bushwhacking upward. The sunlight was very bright on the snow after I left the shade of the woods so I stopped to put my ski goggles on, and paused a moment to gaze at the beautiful view of the Arkansas River Valley below. I was on the southeastern side of Shavano’s east ridge, in an area where snow had piled up and drifted around short, scrubby bushes at timberline, and I found it necessary to flounder through deep snow that was nearly thigh deep for a couple of hundred yards as I worked my way around to the more wind-scoured and snow-free southern side of the ridge. It was very strenuous hiking through the deep snow, and I was certainly glad to reach the end of it. When I left the snow, however, I was greeted by a ferocious wind that howled around me. I paused to put my wind pants and coat on, carefully grasping each item so that it didn’t blow away.

In the high valley beyond to the west I could see the famous Angel of Shavano, the snowy feature on the mountainside visible from miles away that consists of a gently sloping snow-filled couloir with two arms stretching away above. From where I stood the couloir that held the Angel appeared to be no more than 30 feet wide, but extended well over a thousand feet in length, rivaling in scope the mighty Holy Cross at the other end of the Sawatch Range. I could also see the Mt. Shavano Trail below me now, which I had previously lost back at timberline, as it ascended up the valley past the Angel to the saddle on Shavano’s south ridge. That route appeared to harbor too much snow to suit me, so I decided to bushwhack on up the wind-scoured east ridge above.

I proceeded to do an ascending traverse up the east ridge below its crest, carefully choosing my footing on the tundra and rocks to avoid slipping on a patch of snow or ice. I was hiking directly into the teeth of the strong wind, but I was quite comfortable with my wind gear on. Although the wind was strong it was not as bad as some alpine gales I have been in. At about 13,200 feet the angle of the ridge steepened considerably and I made a vigorous climb several hundred feet up a steep, rocky slope. When I finally reached the top of the slope I encountered a much stronger wind that nearly knocked me down. From here there was a nice view of Shavano’s summit that stood about 500 feet higher beyond a gentle flat area. I quickly hiked across the flat area and circled around to the left to approach the summit from the south in order to stay out of the worst of the wind.

It was exciting to be so close to my goal but I was becoming quite tired and found it challenging to climb those last few hundred feet. I doggedly pressed on, though, and stepped atop the windswept summit at 12:30.

The views were magnificent on this beautiful clear day, as I gazed about at the surrounding grandeur. The Sawatch and Elk Ranges punctuated the horizon to the north, and the San Juans stood out clearly in their mantle of white far to the southwest. The Sangre de Cristo Range was particularly impressive as it stretched away to the southeast, to Blanca Peak and beyond into New Mexico. I braced myself against the wind as I looked about, and had trouble holding my camera steady for pictures. After a couple of minutes I quickly retreated to a sheltered place below some rocks on the east side of the summit that was out of the wind. My thermometer registered a chilly 18 degrees, which explained why some of my food was frozen and why my hands turned red so quickly when I took my mittens off.

After about 30 minutes I summoned my dogs, who were lying down curled up in the sun, and began the descent. I selected a line directly down the east slope of the summit and found the going to be quite easy. I soon crossed the flat area and headed back down the steep rocky slope. I noticed that Jorie was uncomfortable with the loose, rocky footing on this stretch. The dogs were tiring, too, and now stayed close by or followed behind me, and lay down at every opportunity. I stayed near the crest of the east ridge on the descent, rather than traversing along its southern slope as I had done on the ascent, because I could now see that the crest was a more direct, snow-free route. When I neared timberline I was able to circumvent most of the deep snow I had ploughed up through on the ascent, and soon rejoined the main trail where it intersected the east ridge at timberline.

The sun dropped behind a ridge to the southwest as I descended into the valley and hiked rapidly down the trail through the woods. A snowy trail is often easier to descend on than a dry one, because the feet slide forward a bit in the soft white stuff. Conversely, snow typically makes a trail more difficult to ascend.

At 3:45 I hiked briskly back to the trailhead and found myself once again bathed in the rays of the sun as it hovered over the peaks to the southwest. I paused to gaze back up at Shavano’s lofty summit, and could hardly believe that I had been way up there. The landscape around me was glowing in the golden rays of the late afternoon sunlight on this beautiful and pleasant January day. This was just the kind of day I needed for this climb, for it was the most challenging winter ascent I had yet done.

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