Ranked the 11th highest summit in Colorado, Torreys Peak stands at 14,272 feet along with his nearby brother, Grays Peak (14,279). Being some of the most eastern of the fourteeners, these two peaks are easily noticeable from a distance. Torreys Peak has many ski lines on it. Perhaps the most known is the east-facing Dead Dog Couloir, which is one of the shortest lines. But the Tuning Forks and Emperor Couloir, which drop into Grizzly Gulch, offer 3000 vertical feet of fantastic skiing.

Torreys was the second fourteener that I skied during my fourteener skiing project. I skied it back in 2006 and was lucky to have descended the luscious Emperor Couloir. You can catch a glimpse of this iconic line for just a couple of seconds as you travel down I-70. This line is respectably steep, aesthetic, long, and fun. It has all the makings that a classic ski route should have. Yet, Dead Dog seems to get more love. But I love the Emperor much better.

My partner for the day was Natalie. We parked our Subaru at the intersection of Stevens Gulch Road with Grizzly Gulch Road as we intended to ascend the summer route via Stevens Gulch but return via Grizzly. Additionally, we knew that Stevens Gulch Road was blocked by avalanche debris just a half mile ahead, from the historic avalanche season we had earlier in the winter. We walked on the road to the summer trailhead and snow was not far from the start.

We found snow levels in the valley to be almost identical to what we’d encountered while skiing nearby Mount Edwards at the end of May just last year… Such a difference in seasons. Speaking of Edwards, it was stacked… Much better coverage that when we skied it last May!

Up Stevens Gulch we went….

Grays Peak and the Lost Rat Couloir.

At the start, we met a solo skier who had intended to ski Dead Dog. He was behind us on the approach and we watched him standing at the base of the route, seeming to contemplate whether to actually climb it or not. Some significant rock fall in Dead Dog was a sign and the guy turned around and high tailed it back to the trailhead. If you ski Dead Dog, I recommend reaching the summit via the summer route to avoid rock fall like this. Torreys Peak and the Dead Dog Couloir on just right of the summit.

Mount Edwards again.

The ridge west of Mount Edwards.

Eventually we made our way to the saddle between Grays and Torreys and followed the ridge to the top.

Natalie and I at the summit.

Clouds had kept temperatures relatively cool so when we reached the summit, we knew we weren’t in a rush. After some time up there, we descended The Emperor Couloir. Snow the previous weekend had left a nice fresh surface for us at higher elevations. Natalie.

Me.

The lower half of the line was not as in good of shape as the top. Winds had blasted dust from nearby rocks onto the line. Still, it actually skied pretty well despite the local dusting. Natalie.

Me.

And then the end of the line…

As you can see, the end of The Emperor was indeed a giant slide path from earlier in the season. We took our skis off to cross the rocks on the right side and then skied the rest of the way down on dirty snow and through mangled trees until the crossing of Grizzly Creek. Then it looked like this. Do you see me making my way through the debris? Yeah, it’s a “Where’s Waldo?” sort of thing….

The Emperor slide path blocked the Grizzly Gulch road from any further travel up the valley. A trip to Grizzly Gulch means admiring the fabulous Grizzly Couloir.

We followed the Grizzly Gulch Road back to our car. One last shot of The Emperor on Torreys Peak.

So, if you’re looking for a late season line to ski, The Emperor is one. But Tuning Forks, Grays Peak, and Mount Edwards are also going to hold for a bit. So, get on it and keep skiing!

The post TR: Late Season Lines – The Emperor Couloir on Torreys (26 June 2019) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Quandary Peak is an interesting mountain. On the one hand, an easy and safe winter route on a 14er means that crowds are the norm all year long. On the other hand, beyond the standard East ridge route there is a lot to be said for the mountain, from the challenging scramble of the West ridge, to the entry-level Cristo couloir (which isn’t really a couloir), to the routes that drop to the North, including the Quandary couloir.

Our friend Larry Fontaine joined us from Steamboat and we headed up the mountain with 50+ other people. I was glad I had ski crampons- the terrain isn’t that steep, but given all the people bootpacking, skinning, and snowshoeing up the peak, the snow surface wasn’t exactly uniform and grippy. It was windy, like it always is on this mountain. What is wasn’t, was snowy. The new snow that we skied in Crested Butte didn’t make it to Summit County, so we were left with a skiff of new snow on top of a frozen base. We can’t win them all, I guess.

We made our way to the top of the couloir a little ways down from the summit. We had plenty of snow surfaces to choose from- stiff little windslabs, avalanche debris, icy hardpack, and the occasional chalky patch. Brennan:

Larry:

Brittany:

Frank:

The couloir itself is a long one- nearly 2,000 vertical feet with a handful of twists and turns along the way.
Brittany:

Brennan:

Larry:

Frank:

From the bottom of the couloir, it’s a bit of a slog back to the trailhead via McCullough Gulch. The good news, however, is that there are a lot of lines off this side of Quandary which are worth exploring:

While we didn’t get the few inches of fresh snow that we were hoping for, we did enjoy this line immensely. While it’s a bit harder than Cristo, it’s a good option for anyone looking for a bit more challenge, and a bit more aesthetic (and actual) couloir.

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Mount Elbert (14,439′ – the highest peak in Colorado) is one of a few fourteeners that is not in Wilderness or private land, where mountain biking is actually allowed. Although few mountain bikers make a point to ride this awesome peak, the riding is here is top notch. I’ve been mountain biking Mount Elbert off and on for over 10 years now, and every time I find myself giddy with joy.

The last time I rode Mount Elbert was with my friend Jess and her friend Joey back in 2015. We tried a different route then – a loop combining the East Ridge, Northeast Ridge, and Colorado trails together. But, this time, I went back to my old standard – the out-and-back on the East Ridge Trail, and on down to Twin Lakes – almost 5200 feet of descending on single track. Not many places where you can find that! Larry would be my partner for the day. He had never ridden this trail before, but had heard me talk it up a whole lot. So it was time for him to check it out.

The leaves were already turning with the approaching fall. We were able to drive up to the 4WD trailhead.

The sun gave a golden hue in the morning light. New reroutes on the lower part of the trail allowed us to ride most of the miles up to treeline.

But we still had plenty of miles to go.

The haze in the valley below was from distant forest fires. But the air was much clearer near the summit.

The summit was awesome… and blustery, as usual.

Time for the fun part…

Me.

And the descent just kept on going and going…. Larry again.

We descended through the newer reconstructed trail that was below treeline and back to the truck… and then we kept going. The trail continues several more miles all the way to Twin Lakes.

Once at the lake, we followed up the road a bit, regaining the singletrack we descended, and used it to ascend back to the truck.

All in all, it was another great day on the bike. If you haven’t mountain biked on Mount Elbert, you really should give it a whirl. The descent is worth the push!

Want to mountain bike Mount Elbert too?

The east ridge is the most common ascent and descent for mountain bikers. If you still have the energy, continue on down to Twin Lakes!

The post Mountain Biking Mount Elbert (5 Sept 2017) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

I posted this on my blog years ago, but I recently checked it out again and thought it was worth a re-post. Fun stuff.

Most people don’t know about Sean Crossen, but they should. He was one of Colorado’s 14er-skiing pioneers in the early to mid-2000’s. Long before legendary Chris Davenport decided he would try to ski all of Colorado’s fourteeners, Sean Crossen was out there, on cumbersome old gear, exploring new routes on these high peaks. While Sean ultimately came up a little bit shy – never actually skiing Capitol Peak from the summit – he put in a great effort and skied an awful lot of peaks in winter-like conditions, quite unlike our efforts which tended to mostly occur in the spring.

Sean Crossen put this video together a while back documenting his efforts to ski all the fourteeners back in the mid-2000’s. The video contains lots of guest appearances from “The Crew”, too- guys like Pete Sowar, John Jasper, Chris Webster and even the O.G. Lou Dawson on El Diente. It’s well worth checking out, although perhaps with the music muted

Some highlights: Pete and his huge pack unable to mount his bike to get up the Maroon Creek road around 10:30. Wendy Fisher shredding Wetterhorn in early season conditions around 17:25.’

Holy old-school flashback, right?

The post TBT: Sean Crossen’s 14er Skiing Video appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

It started back in the summer of 2014 when Mountaineers Books approached us to write a guidebook which featured routes throughout the state of Colorado. The result is a list of 102 routes which span from the San Juans to the Sangre de Cristos and north to the Park Range and everything in between. We even featured a couple of routes in lesser known regions of the Flat Tops and Grand Mesa. This book has the full gamut of backcountry ski explorations, from mid-winter powder runs to challenging and remote ski mountaineering lines, our guidebook should entertain skiers of all levels and abilities. Some of our included routes are “classics” while others are far more off the beaten path. Of course, those lesser known routes can also be the most fun! Some routes even feature “Extra Credit”, where we entice skiers to check out another line or another zone close by, but leave it up to the rider to figure out the details.

Backcountry Ski & Snowboard Routes: Colorado is planned to be on shelves in stores in November. When that happens, we will also be selling it on our website. For now, you can pre-order your book from Mountaineers Books (below) or Amazon.

Pre-order your Guidebook Now!

If you pre-order your guidebook in the next few weeks you’ll get 20% off! All you need to do is find our book on the Mountaineers website, and enter the code COCOPUFFS.

Thanks

We owe a lot to those who have helped us with this guidebook. We worked with about a dozen people at Mountaineers to make this happen. But, thanks goes out to those who came on explorations with us (some of them failed), those who gave us valuable information about regions we did not know, and those who provided us with other guidance as well. This guidebook has two names on it as the authors, but at least 50 people contributed to the making of this book. We could not have done this without each and every one of them. You know who you are, and most of you are even in the book!

The post Pre-order our Guidebook – Backcountry Ski & Snowboard Routes: Colorado appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Pikes Peak has always been a bit of a favorite 14er of mine. I’ve hiked it multiple times, taken the cog, driven to the top, and skied off the top. It’s no coincidence that I saved Pikes Peak as my last peak when completing my 14er skiing project. So, when Frank’s sister and her kids were coming to visit from San Francisco, and Pikes Peak was brought up as something we could “do with the family”, I was in.

Of course, I had a different project in mind than the majority of the family was probably up for. While the family was taking the cog to the top, Frank and I hiked to the summit – covering 13 miles and 7400 vertical feet in just over 5 hours. We met up with the family at the top, and instead of bashing our bodies on a descent that is 1.5 vertical miles, we decided to get our family time in by joining them on the cog on the way down.

Frank and I headed to Manitou Springs fairly early. But, we still didn’t actually start hiking until 8:30 – later than we wanted, but still possible for us to meet the family’s 1:45 cog a the summit. Frank.

The hike was hot. Very hot!

Though we didn’t have a lot of extra time to spare, we still stopped to enjoy some of the nice scenes the Barr Trail had to offer.

We began in a valley just outside of Manitou Springs, without a view of our objective. After hiking for miles, we finally spotted the Pikes Peak summit. Still miles to go!

As the trail climbed higher, we admired the change in the scenery and vegetation.

Ahhh, finally above treeline! The views are vast on Pikes.

Me amidst the boulders.

A cool east facing couloir.

We could see the burned remnants of the recent Waldo Canyon fire in which many Colorado Springs residents lost their homes.

And finally, Frank and Brittany at the summit!

The valley behind us to our left is where we began our hike 5 hours earlier.

As we walked toward the summit hut, the cog arrived.

It brought the rest of our family to the top.

We were busy with family shenanigans and didn’t have much time for pictures. But I managed to capture this view to the north.

Back on the cog.

Though the scenery was better on the way up, I was still happy to have a ride down:)

Just another good day on Pikes!

The post TBT: Pikes Peak Climb and Cog (29 July 2012) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

At 12:30am, my alarm buzzed, pulling me from what could be described as “sleep” in only the most generous of terms. I had been drifting halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness, a mixture of exhaustion, anticipation, excitement, nervousness, and discomfort preventing either one from fully taking hold. As I blearily struggled to align and insert my contacts, a white light appeared from around the corner, accompanied by voices.

Rick stirred. “Walkers!” he mumbled dramatically, as if they were zombies coming for us in the middle of the night. While slogging 6 miles up a groomed road in the dark when God gave us snowmobiles sounds like the sort of thing that zombies would do, we quickly established that these Walkers were merely winter climbers gunning for South Maroon Peak.

Four hours earlier, we pulled up to winter closure on Maroon Creek Road at the T-Lazy 7 Ranch. While talking briefly with one of Ben’s friends we happened upon in the parking lot, a bearded dude suddenly arose from the bed of his pickup truck, surprising us as he stated that he would be leaving at 10pm to try Maroon Peak, hence why he was trying to sleep. I apologized in advance for the disturbance I was about to create, then we fired up the sleds and shuttled ourselves and bivy supplies up to the summer trailhead at Maroon Lake. Rick and I left Ben to consume the can of Coors that didn’t survive the ride, then shuttled one sled down to East Maroon Portal before returning to Maroon Lake on the other sled. We made quick work of the remaining Coors and a couple sandwiches then crawled into cocoons of down and nylon, shutting our eyes in a feeble attempt to regain strength and energy in preparation for the day to come.

Once we established the Walkers were there to climb mountains and not dine on our brains, we quickly saddled up and were skinning up the summer trail by 1 am. We’ve had several groups of friends encounter navigational difficulties getting from the summer trail up into the large amphitheater below Pyramid’s dramatic north face, so we researched the route thoroughly, referencing past trip reports, Caltopo, satellite imagery, and Google Earth.

We programmed the summer trail and a likely ascent couloir into our GPS units, and referencing that, we left the summer trail just above 10,000′ and contoured south to the base of a steep chute barely visible in the dim moonlight. It wasn’t the one that we had mapped, but we had referenced it in satellite views and we were confident it would go.

Skinning became futile quickly, so we tossed our skis on our packs and I began kicking steps up the chute. The angle ratcheted up quickly. It was surreal, kicking steps up 45° snow, points of Whippets embedded, with wind swirling spindrift around and the occasional small slough pouring down from above, all lit by just a small circle of white light from the headlamp. Leading the way would feel utterly lonely in an inhospitable environment, until I would look down and realize my friends were right there. Past the choke, Ben and Rick each took a turn putting in the booter and we reached the base of the amphitheater quite expediently at 3am.

Fortunately, everything was going extremely smoothly. Unfortunately, we were way ahead of schedule. It was very cold, windy, and there was no point rushing higher. The remaining route to reach Pyramid’s NE ridge was straightforward, and there was no reason to reach it until sunrise, as climbing the technical and exposed upper pitches in the dark is simply not a smart idea, and it certainly would be colder and windier the higher we went. We put on all our clothes, drank water, ate a snack. After 30min we were freezing and decided to begin skinning up the amphitheater in our puffy jackets, moving as slowly as possible to avoid overheating and to kill some time, looking for a more sheltered place to wait. By 4:30am we were still over an hour ahead of schedule, hadn’t found any shelter, and were at the end of the amphitheater below the NW couloir that would take us up to the ridge.

The next hour and a half was about as cold as I’ve ever been in the mountains. Lacking any real shelter from the relentless wind, we found a rock in a slight depression and excavated a half-assed snow pit. We climbed in, sitting on our packs and cuddling for warmth. I got so cold I actually pulled out my emergency bivy and crawled in. Finally reaching a point of almost warm enough, I drifted in and out of sleep, losing track of time. Finally someone checked, and it was 6:10am. Time to go.

Skis went back on the packs and we got out the claws – crampons, ice axes, Whippets – and began booting up to the ridge in dim light.

Where a steep couloir branched off to climbers right, we took it, as it led more directly to where we would need to go. But progress was slow owing to the steep pitch, exhaustion from lack of sleep and energy expended trying to stay warm, altitude, and the need to occasionally drop to all fours as strong gusts of wind threatened our balance and filled our eyes with spindrift and ice pellets.

We topped out on the NE ridge at 13,100′ at 8am, just as the sun cleared some low clouds.

And we got our first view of the east face and Landry Line, our intended descent route.

Hitting the ridge is the moment of truth. There is only one way off the summit on skis – descending east on 60° snow above an enormous cliff. If you fall anywhere between the summit and the point where we were standing, you go in the ground. That’s really all there is to it. There’s no real escape route – your only options are to downclimb what you came up (arguably more dangerous than just skiing it) or downclimb the NW ridge, where routefinding is tricky especially since it’s not the route you came up. Once you begin the final push to the summit, you are committed.

We paused. Rehydrated. Ate. And discussed. Pictures of the upper east face do not do justice to what it looks like when you’re staring at it. Emotions ranged from intimidated to terrified. Everything looks steeper when you view it head on, but it looked fucking vertical. And perhaps more importantly, it looked very frozen, and the wind was still howling. No matter how much sun is beating down, wind is remarkably good at keeping snow surfaces cold, especially this early in the year before the sun angle gets too high.

We decided we really needed to know what the quality of the east facing snow was like. Was it as frozen as it looked? Was it chalky? Icy? Beginning to corn up? Unfortunately our spot on the ridge was guarded by a cornice, but 100′ higher it appeared we could access a small patch of representative snow. We cramponed up the narrowing knife edge ridge, making a difficult move in rotten snow between a rock band and a strange, man-swallowing hole in the snow to reach our evaluation point.

Reaching a good spot, Rick reached out with a pole basket, and the results were discouraging.

“Bulletproof,” Rick announced.

So we discussed. And discussed. It took us an hour to reach our eventual group decision. Today was not the day.

It really came down to the wind. Without the wind, the face probably would have softened up enough. We had no way to know what would happen, or when. The forecast was for consistent winds throughout the day, but it seemed to be slowly letting up. The issue was, the Landry Line is over 4,300 vertical feet to the valley floor, and the majority of it is steep enough to slide, especially when wet avalanche problems (particularly wet slab) are on the problem list. If the wind let up, the upper face would soften enough to safely ski, but at what time? 10am? 11? Noon or later? The lower 2/3 of the line were sheltered from the wind, so we feared that by the time the upper face softened enough, the lower sections would be dangerously saturated.

I was the first one to pull the plug. On top of the weather uncertainty and snowpack concerns, I did not feel 100% mentally. I was a bit gripped thanks to exhaustion and not having spent much time in really steep, technical terrain this season. In fact I had only been on skis 3 days in the previous month, two relaxed days at Loveland with my girlfriend, and one day skiing the very moderate Cristo Couloir on Quandary. The vertical world I suddenly found myself in had me feeling out of sorts. Mentally, I wasn’t there. On a slightly less demanding line, I could have safely pushed through, but the Landry Line is not one to do when you’re not feeling it. As an engineer, I tend to guide myself on fact and logical reasoning as much as possible, but sometimes it is important to let the primal instincts take over.

I told Rick and Ben I was out, but that I was 100% comfortable skiing back down our ascent route solo if they wanted to continue. We continued to discuss, with Rick leaning more towards bailing and Ben wanting to make sure he considered every possible route to success before calling it. Ultimately we all knew the best decision was retreat. While I could tell that my partners were a bit disappointed – not by me, but by the fact that things didn’t quite line up – I knew we had made the correct call. Even if we could have gotten away with it, we made the correct call because our choice led to certain survival. That choice is never the wrong decision.

We downclimbed 100ft back to the platform on the ridge and transitioned. Our “consolation prize” descent was not so consoling. Though not the Landry line, the terrain was great – 3,000′ of steep, aesthetic terrain with stunning scenery. Unfortunately it all faces west, and we were skiing it many hours before it would see sunlight and begin to soften up. It was mostly chattery, unpleasant, and loud.

Things did improve as we dropped below the amphitheater, where at least we found a few soft turns in between the bulletproof ones.

Back down at the lake, the weather was hot. Sledding up in the dark we hadn’t gotten to see the famed vista the Maroon Bells offers. It’s probably the most touristy mountain view in Colorado, but it really is spectacular, even more so in the winter than in the summer. Rick and I shuttled down to recover our other sled, then enjoyed the warmth, a beer, and the view before packing up and heading down.

Unfortunately our trials and tribulations were not over yet. As I started up my sled, I glanced down at the fuel gauge, which was hovering just above “E.” That was weird… I had started with a nearly full tank, and had only driven about 18 miles including shuttling back and forth, which shouldn’t have used nearly that much fuel. I had noticed a strange fuel spill between the hood and dash earlier, as well as a bit more smoke than normal coming off the silencer. Opening the hood to take a look revealed a dejecting sight – fuel everywhere, on the side of the engine, on the pipe, sprayed across the bulkhead and the silencer. I figured out it was coming from somewhere in the main fuel supply line, perhaps near one of the fittings. No spare line, not much else we could do, so I fired it up and took off, hoping I had just enough fuel to make it to the parking lot.

No such luck. About 1.5mi from the bottom, the sled sputtered and died. But I knew I was close, so I freed my skis from the rack and skated, poled, and skied down the remaining road to the truck while Rick and Ben drove the other sled down. I drove into town to buy a fuel can and a couple more gallons of gas, leaving Rick and Ben in the parking lot to explain to confused tourists that it is, in fact, not possible to drive to the Maroon Bells in the winter, and that yes it really is 6 miles to get up there, and yes they are completely sure the road is totally snow covered, that’s why we drove a snowmobile.

Apparently it’s impossible to buy a fuel jug in Aspen larger than 1 gallon and apparently three 1-gal fuel cans will run you the better part of a $50 bill. Still, it would do, so Rick and I brapped back up to refill and recover my sled. We found the leak where the fuel supply line had contacted the exhaust pipe, redneck patched it with some medical tape and a couple zip ties to staunch the bleeding somewhat, and successfully limped the sled home.

Overall it was a surprisingly eventful day, disappointing that we couldn’t ski our line, but glad to have listened when the mountain said no and to have spent a day in amazing mountains with great people. Huge thanks to Rick and Ben for being great partners, to Colin for the use of his sled, and Frank and Brittany for letting me share our story here. We’ll be back.

The post Guest TR: Pyramid Peak Ski Attempt (19 March 2017) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.