SUNSHINE PEAK
14,001 ft.
September 10, 2000
By Tim Briese
I rose at 4 a.m. and headed south from Ridgway on the highway toward Ouray. This was the third morning in a row that I had risen at this hour or earlier to go mountain climbing. I had completed my main objective on this trip of climbing Mt. Wilson and El Diente on the two previous days, and if I could successfully climb Sunshine Peak today on my way home, it would be an extra summit that I had not really counted on. I would then have only one 14er left to complete my quest to climb them all. I was tired and sore from the previous two days of climbing, but was still enthusiastic.
As I drove through Ouray under a starry sky I noticed the lights of the town shining on the steep mountain walls above, which was quite a pretty sight. I went on over Red Mountain Pass and reached Silverton at 5:30, and then headed north on the dirt road toward Cinnamon Pass. I was a little confused about the route north of Silverton in the dark, but fortunately the road I was on turned out to be the right one. I followed the easy four wheel drive road up to Cinnamon Pass, where I stopped a moment to read the informative sign placed there, which I could barely read in the faint twilight at 6:15. The tundra landscape around me was just starting to take form in the early morning light.
Below the pass near the American Basin turnoff I rounded a bend and found a fallen tree blocking the road. Fortunately I was just able to move it out of the way by hand. If it had been just a little heavier, I would have had no choice but to make a very long backtrack that would have left me with no time to climb Sunshine that day. I resolved to bring a tow rope along next time to deal with such an emergency. Thus I learned a valuable lesson about 4-wheeling that morning.
A few minutes later I reached the trailhead, and hit the frosty trail at 7 a.m. in the chilly air. There were three or four other hikers at the trailhead preparing to embark as well. The sun was just beginning to shine on the high peaks and ridges above, but I could see that I would be hiking in the cold, dark shadows for a while. I had been on this trail earlier in the summer when I had hiked up the traditional route to climb Redcloud Peak, but poor weather then had prevented me from continuing on across the saddle to Sunshine. I was returning now to climb this peak I had missed, and planned to bypass Redcloud and follow the shortest route to Sunshine’s summit.
I started off hiking slowly this morning, feeling tired and a little ill, but soon picked up my pace. After about 40 minutes I turned off the main trail that led up to Redcloud and headed to the right up the South Silver Creek drainage. I followed a lightly used trail south up this valley to a pretty area at timberline, and continued on up into the basin below Sunshine. I considered hiking on to the far end of the valley and going up Sunshine’s west ridge, but that route looked too steep to suit me. Instead I chose to climb up to the saddle between Redcloud and Sunshine. That route was also very steep, but at least there was somewhat of a trail to follow. It took about half an hour of vigorous climbing to reach the saddle. I observed a lot of loose material on this slope as I climbed and noted that I would not want to be on it if anyone were above. There were countless loose rocks, many football-sized or larger, that were ready to roll down if nudged loose. When I reached the saddle I found a sign referring to the slope which I had just climbed which said, “Not a trail, dangerous area, go back over Redcloud.” That was a warning well worth heeding.
I was now in the bright morning sunshine for the first time and walked south up the easy ridge to the summit, arriving at 9:50. It was a beautiful cloudless morning and there were spectacular views all around. I could see all the high summits in the San Juans, as well as Capitol and Snowmass Peaks far off to the north, and San Luis to the east. Way off to the east I could just glimpse Blanca Peak, about 110 miles away. It was only 31 degrees with a slight breeze blowing from the north, but it was very pleasant in the warm sunshine. It seemed appropriate to enjoy the sunshine on Sunshine Peak. As I sat resting I gazed at climbers over on the summit of Redcloud, and then turned my eyes to admire golden yellow aspens in the valleys far below. I pulled out my cell phone and called home, but found no one there. It was a little disappointing to have to talk to my own answering machine.
I left the summit at 10:20 and headed back down the ridge. Another climber was approaching from the direction of Redcloud. At the saddle I headed back down the steep scree slope I had come up, not having the time nor energy for the longer return route over Redcloud. After assuring myself that no one would be above me to knock rocks loose, I quickly scooted down the slope in about 20 minutes, eager to get it behind me.
It was a pretty hike back down the valley under the bright blue September sky. I paused at one point to watch a deer standing in the aspens about 50 feet from the trail. It was a good feeling to arrive back at the trailhead at 12:15, where I changed out of my hiking boots and plopped down exhausted into the seat of my vehicle and drove away. I showered at a campground in Lake City before beginning the long five hour drive home. I was extremely tired when I pulled into my driveway that evening.
What a weekend of mountain climbing it had been! I had climbed Mt. Wilson, El Diente, and Sunshine Peak in three days. It had been grueling, to say the least. I had hiked nearly 30 miles, climbed over 13,000 feet of elevation gain, and had driven 800 miles. I had done what was necessary to climb these mountains. This was part of what mountain climbing is all about -- pushing one’s personal limits and reaping great rewards borne of great sacrifice.
These were some of the 14ers furthest from my home, and I had been eager to climb them before the snowstorms of fall began to arrive. So it was with great satisfaction that I returned home after my successful mountain climbing expedition amidst the grand scenery of southwestern Colorado.
