14er Report #32: Redcloud and Sunshine (Very Late Spring/Summer, Northeast Ridge/Traverse)

Moonrise, and Shadow of Redcloud Peak. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

 

“Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are nought without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste; look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.”
― Edward Whymper, Scrambles Amongst the Alps

“…a momentary negligence…look well to each step…” Yep, that was it. Not paying attention. Complacency. Luckily, it wasn’t near the scale of accident that Ed Whymper suffered on the slopes of the Matterhorn. Still, it could easily have been much worse.

But, more on that later.

For this first 14er trip of the season, I thought the Redcoud-Sunshine combo down south in the San Juan Mountains would be just the ticket. The standard route is not particularly difficult, not too torturously long, and you get two for a bit more than the price of one. It sounded like a nice motivational way to get started after nary a big Colorado mountain ascent since last fall.

It turned out to be quite the adventure, with some spectacular sunset and sunrise photo ops from my overnight solo bivvy above 14,000 feet, and even an unusually eventful return to Boulder after the hike…along with the little “incident” alluded to in the first paragraph, of course.

Here is the full report, along with 38 images to help you plan your own trip into the sensational San Juans…

Trip Report: Redcloud Peak (14,034′) and Sunshine Peak (14,001′)

Route:

From the Silver Creek-Grizzly Gulch Trailhead at 10,400′, I took the Class 2 Northeast Ridge Route up to the summit of Redcoud Peak, then the connecting ridge over to Sunshine, with a return back over the top of Redcloud and down the trail from whence I had come. This is considered by most to be the “standard route” and easiest way to climb both peaks.

All told, that amounted to an 11.4 mile round trip and a total elevation gain of around 4,700′. It would certainly press my physical conditioning comfort zone as I hadn’t done much prep except for a couple of hikes (with very light loads) above Boulder up to and around Bear Peak and Green Mountain–nothing really at altitude, or with a heavier, camera gear-laden pack, so far this year.

Timeline:

It was a bit of a journey getting to the trailhead from Boulder–about 5 hours and 15 minutes to Lake City via Hwy 285, then another hour on mostly dirt until I could finally shut down the engine at the trailhead parking lot on Sunday, June 19th.

My original plan was to hang out at the trailhead, sleep a bit, then start up the trail around 1a.m. by the light of the scheduled full strawberry moon. It was about 2p.m. when I arrived at the trailhead, so I thought…hmmm, why not just toss a sleeping bag, inflatable mattress, and bivvy sack into my pack and saunter up toward the Redcloud summit for sunset? Sure, there’s plenty o’ time–why not!?

So, I started in slow trudge mode up the trail at 4:15p.m. and made my way steadily up through the beautiful Silver Creek basin and was on Redcloud’s northeast ridge by 6:55p.m. Fifty minutes later (7:45p.m.), I was on Redcloud’s summit with plenty of time to flatten out a nice bivvy spot on the rocky lee side and prepare my camera gear for sunset and moonrise. And wow, what a perch for said photographic enterprises (see images below)!

The next morning, I was up early for the sunrise-moonset photography and started over to Sunshine Peak at 5:10a.m. The ridge traverse took about an hour each way, so two hours total. It’s a long, celestial, walk across that talus and tundra skyway between the two summits, so make sure the weather will hold before making the commitment–and bring plenty of film (er, uh, memory card space).

After returning from Sunshine, and packing up my gear, I left Redcloud’s summit and headed down hill (a bit reluctantly) at 7:35a.m. on Monday, June 20, the summer solstice. (So, the days are actually getting shorter, now???)

I made great time going down until a trip and fall (details below) slowed me waaaay down. I wasn’t back to the truck until 11a.m. A more typical time for the descent from Redcloud to the trailhead might be 2 1/2 to 3 hours.

Total hiking time: 8+55. En route time up was 3+30 to Redcloud’s summit, 2+00 for the out and back to Sunshine, then 3+25 for the descent from Redcloud to the trailhead. YMMV depending upon weather conditions and your condition. (For comparison, I think I am a fairly average hiker.)

Weather Conditions:

Winds from the west 5-15mph during the day. Hot and clear, clear, clear. Temperature records were being broken all over the West. Indeed, my truck thermometer said 85 degrees at the trailhead at over 10,000′. Not typical! A big reason I decided to camp on top of Redcloud was simply to escape the heat!

There was some haze across the sky (easily visible in my sunrise-sunset pics that follow) from fires in New Mexico and Arizona, and the occasional cumulus clouds struggled valiantly to fluff themselves out into the low-humidity sky. In the evening, from Redcloud’s summit, I did notice some large buildups some hundred miles to the north–I would eventually have a close encounter with these guys while driving home the next day.

The low temperature during the night at my bivvy spot on Redcloud was likely just below 32 degrees as I did see patches of lightly frozen water in the morning hours. That’s warm, if you are wondering. Thankfully, there was not even a whiff of wind the whole night, which made things even more comfortable at that altitude.

Trail Conditions:

First, the road in from Lake City (specifically, CR30): You could get a passenger car to the trailhead, but you would have to go slow and take care in a few spots. A Subaru or higher clearance would be best, of course. There is a narrow section of road toward the end, but there are plenty of well-spaced pullouts, so don’t sweat the idea of meeting oncoming traffic. Be ready to keep your windows up if the road is dry–lots of jeep and ATV traffic lifting the dust.

Now, the hike: It is all on pretty decent (if, at times, steep) trail. Following it up to Redcloud, and even over to Sunshine, by headlamp on a dark night would probably be reasonably easy if you have a modicum of situational awareness (GPS would be a nice backup).

Conditions were what I would call “late spring/early summer”. Neither traction (microspikes) nor flotation (snowshoes) were needed, although snowshoes were needed just 10-14 days ago! On my ascent, there was still a large field of avalanche snow debris piled across the creek and trail about 1 3/4 miles up, but you could either walk over it or walk the talus just beside it. There were additional snow patches on the climb out of the basin and up to the saddle on the northeast ridge. Again, you could either avoid them or walk directly over the white stuff. (Mostly hard-packed, but some annoying postholing for very short distances likely later in the day.) Some sections of trail had water running down it.

One comment…When snow (or water) blocks the trail, it is the natural reaction to simply walk around. Try to avoid this as much as you can because it creates new trails that parallel the main trail causing excessive and unnecessary erosion.

The traverse between the two peaks had snow along the ridge, but it had melted back enough to reveal the summer trail in all but a few short sections–so, no real obstacle to fast progress.

Unless you are so young that you have yet to note any sign of body decay I would highly recommend hiking poles, especially for the descent, to avoid making your knee surgeon any richer than she already is.

Photography Issues:

–I carried the whole 12-pound brick-like kit of three lenses, D800 body, and big tripod. This, along with overnight gear and water, made for a much heavier than normal load–maybe 25 pounds all told. But, I was, once again, very happy to have the good camera up on top once the light show began.

–The lack of cool clouds made a lot of my photographs borderline boring, so I erased many during review on the computer. But, there is a delicate balance here–you could go climb the 14er when those wonderful clouds are forecast, but it might mean very scary, war-story kind o’ weather as well as some great photos. Which would you prefer? Boring photos but safe climb, or scary climb and amazing photos? Hmmm…tough call.

–One way to minimize the effects of a big, empty, blue sky is to keep it out of the frame as much as possible. You will notice that most of the images I have posted below do just that (except for a few that are more documentary in nature).

Unusual Events/Comments:

–People count: On my way up on Sunday, I saw two parties of three coming down. On my way down on Monday, I saw two solo hikers and a group of four headed up. The entire time I was above 13,000′, and during the whole night on top, I was alone on the mountain. Just me, the marmots, and a coyote pack somewhere down in the valley yapping away with glee.

–Beware! There is criminal rodent/mammal activity at the trailhead on occasion. Marmots, porcupines, raccoons, squirrels, and/or other critters have been caught in flagranti delecto inside the motors of vehicles, attempting to gnaw away at crucial hoses and belts. I had no issues, but at least one other hiker did over the previous week. Consider bringing some temporary vehicle fencing or some foul-smelling animal-repellent liquid with you to avoid problems.

–Beware! There is also rodent activity at the summit of Redcloud. I left my trekking poles there while going out and back to Sunshine and returned to find one of the grips pretty well percolated by sharp teeth. At least I should have stood them upright between rocks to make it harder for Ms. Marmot or Mr. Pika.

–What is it with altitude that makes me pee more often for the first couple of days? I suppose I might increase my fluid intake, but not enough to make me pee so much. For example, during the night on Redcloud, at 14,000′, I was up every hour watering the talus. Is it because the body is desperately fabricating red blood cells? Previous experience with longer stays at altitude has shown me that this phenomena only lasts a couple of days, then I go back to a normal #1 schedule. What gives (besides the bladder)? A good technique, for males at least: carry a dedicated pee bottle (carefully marked with skull and crossbones!) so you don’t actually have to crawl out of bed every time.

–For sleeping on the summit, an air mattress is indispensable due to the rocky nature of the ground. I was quite warm and comfy on top of my lightweight Exped mattress, and inside my summer down bag and bivvy sack.

–I briefly examined the idea of dropping off the west side of the Redcloud-Sunshine ridge to return to the Silver Creek Trail…but, it looked like a scree-from-hell journey. Glad I didn’t try it.

–The drive back was more interesting than expected. First, there was the near one-hour delay for construction going over the Kaufman Ridge pass on Hwy 285 between Buena Vista and Antero Junction, then the marble-sized hail in Fairplay that had everyone scrambling to find covered parking at the gas station pumps, then the Biblical rain (with lightning) powering and pounding down upon us all the way from Fairplay to Conifer, and finally the detour due to rockfall on the road outside of Bailey. Wow, I wondered if I would ever arrive home. What happened to those blue skies!?

—Colorado 14er Senior Challenge summit count: 39 of the basic list of 58 (p. xxiii in Gerry Roach’s 14er “Bible”, Colorado Fourteeners, 3rd Ed.); 46 of the long list of 73 (pp. 347-348, with South Wilson added, also in Roach’s “Bible”.

Special Report – How A Stupid Fall Can Ruin Your Day

Yes, accidents most often happen on the descent, when you let down your guard.

I was maybe two miles from the trailhead with about 1,500 feet of vertical descent to go, when I tripped and fell like a bag of anvils on a very benign section of the trail. Without trekking poles it probably would have been worse. On the other hand, the heavier-than-usual pack didn’t help.

The actual fall to the ground went rather well (lots of fall practice from my many years of competitive cycling)–except that my right thigh happened to find a large, blunt, protruding rock. It nailed my right quad, dead center, big time.

My instant personal systems check told me that nothing was broken, thankfully, but the pain in my right leg was enough that I came close to passing out…the sounds of the roaring creek went quiet and was replaced by that heavy, oh-shit, ringing in my ears for far too long. I stayed there flat on the ground while two more waves of nausea washed over me. Finally, the sound of the creek started coming slowly back.

I sat there for another 15 minutes at least before I finally–and very gingerly–tried to stand. My initial steps were so feeble and slow I thought it might take me hours to get down those final two miles to my truck. With time, though, I was able to slowly gain a slight bit of flexibility in the damaged right leg and walk a bit faster–but still at an extremely geriatric pace.

I was very lucky, though. In a week or so, I will probably be back to normal. Hopefully…hopefully…

Lesson learned: Pay attention, jackass, even on easy terrain! It is human nature to keep a close eye when things are spicy and difficult. It’s when the “crisis” is over that we become complacent and relax our guard. But we need to keep the radar on, even then.

Yep, with one ill-timed distraction or daydream for a single millisecond, reality can come barging back in to abruptly change that wonderful Julie Andrews romp in the mountains into a full-up rescue scenario. So lets be careful out there, eh!?

[NOTE: I do carry a SPOT Gen 3 Messenger in case of emergencies. As long as I have satellite reception (which is almost always), I can send out one of three messages, with lat/long coordinates, to my pre-designated email list: “I’m OK”, “I am delayed with minor issue, no rescue required”, or “SOS, need rescue”. I have a cell phone, too, but usually there is no service on 14ers except occasionally on or near the summits.]

Selected Images:

Don’t go past this sign! To the left is one of the several trail options up Handies Peak, to the right is the trailhead for Redcloud/Sunshine. The parking area is just behind me and to my right. Note that there are plenty of places to camp here:

Trailhead Sign. Silver Creek-Grizzly Gulch, Colorado, 2016

Some nice outhouses and plenty of parking/camping to be found here. The truck opposite is in the main parking area and you can see the Silver Creek trail heading up the hill toward Redcloud Peak. The peak you see in the center distance is not Redcloud, by the way. You’ll need to be well up into the basin before your objective reveals herself to you:

Silver Creek-Grizzly Gulch Trailhead, Colorado, 2016

A closer look at your starting point, with a glove sitting on the Lost and Found rock:

Silver Creek Trailhead Signage. Silver Creek-Grizzly Gulch, Colorado, 2016

Looking down the creek back toward the trailhead, this snow is what remains of an avalanche that crashed down from the left. This is the first piece of snow you might have to walk over (late June) as you climb higher towards the basin, but you can avoid it by walking the talus on the edge:

Avalanche Debris. Silver Creek Trail, Colorado, 2016

Once above treeline, the basin opens up and turns into an alpine paradise. This one image contains nearly all the clouds I saw anywhere near me in the two days I was here–a rarity for a Colorado mountain summer. Oh, and that big lump on the left is my pack, stuffed with camera and overnight gear (and most of the ten essentials):

Into the Basin. Silver Creek Trail, Colorado, 2016

From the same spot as the previous photo, but looking down the drainage. That flat-topped mountain in the distant center is Handies Peak (14,048′), the peak I have selected as my eventual  14er “finisher”:

Handies Peak View. Silver Creek Trail, Colorado, 2016

With these record-setting high temperatures of late, a lot of this snow will be gone by mid-July:

Silver Creek Basin. Silver Creek Trail, Colorado, 2016

As you climb out of the basin and approach the ridge line, you finally get your first glimpse of Redcloud Peak. It is not the high point on the right (that’s a false summit). It is the bump you see farther back and apparently lower. Just below here, I filled up on the water that I would need for the planned night and morning on top, thus adding another six pounds to my back. Ugh. Note how the snow in the foreground is rapidly melting away from the summer trail. Try to follow the actual pathway as much as you can to avoid “braiding” the trail:

Approaching the Ridgeline. Silver Creek Trail, Colorado, 2016

I just love the shadowplay and the sensuous folds of these drainages down in the basin:

Late Afternoon in Silver Creek Basin. NE Ridge, Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Once atop the northeast ridge leading up to Redcloud, you get your first view of the mountains to the east. Somewhere over there, a full moon is scheduled to rise up:

View to the East, from NE Ridge. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

The flowers were everywhere, from trailhead to summit. The hills are alive, with the sound of music!

Flowering Tundra. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Again, the actual Redcloud summit is the apparently lower bump on the left. That white arrow is showing a section of trail that is actually a shortcut. Try not to use it. Instead, follow the real trail (indicated at that very point by a wooden sign) which moves out to the right via a series of switchbacks:

View of the Upper NE Ridge. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

This is what that white arrow was pointing to. The left fork is a shortcut that is causing unnecessary erosion. The right fork is the actual trail–and it is much easier to walk, as well:

Trail Erosion. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Here is another area where you might find snow on the trail in early season. To avoid erosion, do your best to walk where the trail is rather than cutting around. In the far distance, the Coxcomb (ridgy thing), Wetterhorn (pointy thing), and the Matterhorn (lower pointy thing) are visible. Even Uncompahgre Peak is just barely visible poking up above a low point in the opposite ridge:

High on the NE Ridge. Redcloud Peak, 2016

Looking back down the Northeast Ridge Route on Redcloud Peak. Across the way is an unnamed 13er:

NE View. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Careful where you step!

Alpine Wildflower. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Approaching the false summit. No worries, you won’t have to walk that corniced ridge over to Redcloud, the trail stays clear of it. The last of the afternoon sun is lightly caressing the reddish rock on the high point:

Corniced Ridge. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

On the false summit, the final section becomes obvious:

The Final Pitch. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

At around 8p.m. the light started to get nice for photography–the so-called “golden hour” (which can last anywhere from 30 seconds to three hours, BTW). From the summit of Redcloud, the long traverse over to Sunshine presents itself:

Late Afternoon View of Sunshine Peak. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

At least one of these is an unnamed centennial 13er:

The Thirteeners to the NE of Redcloud. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

The obvious cliffed mountain is Half Peak (13,841′). In the distance and slightly left of Half Peak you can see the Eolus, Sunlight (left-leaning, in sunlight), and Windom group of 14ers in the Chicago Basin of the Needle Mountains, not far from Silverton. The awesome jagged peaks to the right of Half Peak and in the distance are also part of the Needles, a sub-range of the San Juan Mountains and that particular area holds a nice collection of remote and rugged 13ers (near 14ers):

Half Peak and Beyond. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Almost forgot the requisite summit hero shot. And to think it hit 118 degrees in Phoenix on this same day…:

Awaiting Sunset. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Another photography guideline: Don’t get so enamored with the scene before you (the sunset, in this case) that you forget to turn around. I didn’t forget and was treated to a full moon rising above the eastern clouds as the last light disappeared from the landscape. You can see the triangle shadow of Redcloud on the terrain below the moon:

Moonrise Above the Clouds. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Luckily, these thunderbumpers were a good hundred miles away. They are not what you want around when you plan on sleeping on top of a 14er:

Thunderstorms to the North. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

What a conglomeration of tortured geology! And a heckuva place to lose a cow… On the far left of the frame is Mount Eolus. Moving to the right from there, the left-leaning peak in sunlight to the right of that is Sunlight, with Windom capping the end of the same ridge. How many of the Needle Mountain peaks to the right of Half Peak can you identify?

Last Light on Half Peak. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Even using The Photographer’s Ephemeris and various online topo maps, I haven’t been able to positively identify the peak just under the sun. Who can tell me? And, does it really matter?–what a spectacular end o’ the day! [UPDATE: Chris, from 14ers dot com has definitively identified the peak behind which the sun will set. It is none other than Wildhorse Peak at 13,266′. Thanks, Chris!]

Sunset Over the San Juan Mountains. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

I was up at the first hint of dawn on Solstice Day–that’s the dawn’s early light creeping into the frame from the right and illuminating the forest fire haze. The moonlight gave the landscape sort of an eerie glow:

Uncompahgre Peak By Moonlight. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Here, the forest fire haze is very obvious as we look toward the east. What a joy it is to watch a new day begin from high above the world’s many petty human problems:

First Light to the East. From Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

The view looking toward the saddle on the Northeast Ridge Route which I followed on the ascent:

Sunrise Approaches on Redcloud’s NE Ridge. Redcloud Peak, Colorado, 2016

Before the sun came above the horizon, I headed off along the traverse to Sunshine, thinking I might get there before Mr. Sol popped into view. This is looking back at Redcloud from near the mid-way point with the always unmistakable Uncompahgre Peak on the left:

Dawn, Redcloud Peak. From the Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016

This is what the last steep section up to Sunshine Peak looks like. The walk between the snow and the cliffs on the right looked to be a nice Ivy Baldwin act, but was actually very secure. Handies Peak is the mountain on the right, and the blue strip between the moon and the horizon is the Earth’s shadow cast into the atmosphere!

Moonset at Dawn. Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016

Official sunrise caught me just below Sunshine’s summit–and, yes, it seemed a long way back to Redcloud:

Sunrise. Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016

There are possible ways to come up or descend Redcloud/Sunshine through this area–all options a little more rugged than the standard route. That is the Silver Creek drainage at the far end of the basin. The high peak on the left wall of this basin, still in shadow and below the horizon, is Point 13,432 (“Sundog”), Colorado’s 300th highest peak, and along a possible ascent/descent route (Northwest Ridge) to/from Sunshine :

Basin, South Fork Silver Creek. From Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016

I just realized I am not posting a summit shot from Sunshine. I did, in fact, get there, but I only snapped a poor hero shot–so this will have to substitute:

Half Peak and the Needle Mountains at Sunrise. From just below Sunshine Peak, Colorado, 2016

The three main summits on the left side are The Coxcomb (13,656′), Redcliff Peak (13,642′), and the dominating Wetterhorn (14,015′). The Matterhorn (13,590′) is the cone-shaped peak in the right half:

Wetterhorn and Companions at Sunrise. From near Sunshine Peak, Colorado, 2016

This garden was thriving at about 13,700′!

High Altitude Rock Garden. Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016

If you plan on going down this way, find as much beta as you can on the possible routes. You could easily find yourself cliffed out or facing a steep snow couloir whilst balancing on some really nasty, very loose, scree. I elected to climb back over Redcloud as the sign recommends:

Scree From Hell Warning. Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, 2016

Finally–the last image! That last climb back up to Redcloud seemed interminable. Plan on two hours total to cross over to Sunshine and get back if you are an average hiker. This means you really need to get an early start if thunderstorms are at all a possibility for the afternoon. The traversing ridge line is not a place you’d want to watch a laser-lightning show:

Back Up to Redcloud Peak. Redcloud-Sunshine Traverse, Colorado, 2016