It had been a while since I had really gotten excited about climbing a peak. Since climbing Pyramid Peak in August 2002, I hadn't climbed any new 14ers. I've done a few climbs in the Lost Creek Wilderness and a bunch of repeat climbs of some 14ers, but nothing to really write home about. Not to take away from the LCW, it's a beautiful area, but I'm so focused on finishing the 14ers that everything else pales.

I started getting ready for the climb Monday, but I had been watching the weather in Telluride since the week before. Being unemployed, I pretty much have my choice of when to climb, so I was waiting for the ideal weather conditions to happen along when I had no other plans. It looked like stable weather most of the week of June 23, so I set my sights on a Friday climb and started getting my gear together. I typed up Roach's description of the traverse in reverse, from El Diente to Wilson, and printed it out as a reference.

I planned to backpack up into Kilpacker Basin, climb El Diente, then traverse to Mount Wilson. I would need a large daypack for the gear I would bring along, but I didn't want to bring a separate backpack since I would be bringing minimal overnight gear. I tried packing everything - along with the usual dayhike gear, I had a 100' length of 8mm static line, a helmet, ice axe, crampons, gaiters, tent, sleeping bag and pad, and water filter - into my daypack. It all seemed to fit okay, so I stuck with it. It turned out to be too much weight for that pack, but it only became painful on the hike out. For climbing gear, I brought the static line as an emergency bailout rope, and to keep the weight down I only brought a few slings, including a larger sling to be used as a "diaper harness", and a single locking carabiner. I made sure I remembered how to rig the harness and carabiner with a Munter hitch, in case I needed to make a short rappel.

As Thursday drew closer, the weather report still looked good. I woke up early Thursday morning, well before I planned to get up. Since I was so excited, running the plans for the climb through my head as I tried to get a couple more hours sleep, I decided just to get up. I made some coffee and made one last gear check then loaded everything into the Jeep. My poor dogs were dancing around, expecting me to take them on an adventure, but as a rule I won't take them on anything class 3 or above.

I left home at 06:45, and drove to the trailhead via I-70, Glenwood Springs, Carbondale, McClure Pass, Hotchkiss, Delta, Ridgway, and over Lizard Head Pass. My usual route would have been 285/50 through Gunnison, but I thought I'd try the alternate route. The time seemed to be about the same either way, 7 hours and 360 miles from home to the trailhead. I began hiking the trail at 14:15, starting at an altitude of 10,080'. I soon passed a family on horseback coming down the trail, who apologized in advance for "presents" left on the trail, and who commented on the 2 beautiful waterfalls up in the basin. I saw a lot of purple wild iris on this section of the trail.

After the trail junction where the Kilpacker and Navajo trails meet, I made my way up the lush valley into Kilpacker Basin. This is really a nice trail, passing through giant spruce and aspen forests over gently undulating hills. I reached the campsite I used last August just below the lower waterfall, but it was occupied, though I never did see the camper. There were plenty of other suitable spots in the area, but I thought I would continue up the trail and see what I could find near treeline.

I found my campsite at 15:45, between the upper and lower waterfalls, in a small clearing just off the trail in a clump of stunted trees. I set up my tent and popped open one of the two cans of Guinness I somehow managed to stuff into my overstuffed pack, and stuck the other can in Kilpacker Creek for a post-hike celebration. While filtering some water from the creek, I noted that I had four waterfalls in my view: the large fall near the start of the upper Kilpacker Basin, a small fall just below me, and two tiny falls where snowmelt drained into the creek from the slope above. With the wildflowers all around me and the cool spray from the running creek, "Four Falls Camp" was a magical place. I made a short recon hike up the trail, then returned to camp to get as much sleep as possible before my alarm went off.

Foto ©2003 by John C. Maki

03:00. Ugh. Clear skies, not too cold. I threw on the pack and started up the trail at 03:15. I soon encountered the heinous scree of upper Kilpacker Basin, which clatters around like shards of broken dishes. I had my extra-bright Petzl Zoom Zora headlamp, with its halogen bulb powered by 6V, but the trail was sometimes hard to follow in the artificial light. At 04:30 I had gained enough altitude to notice town lights to the southwest, which for me is always a lonely observation. I lost the trail around 12,200' and started climbing too high in the basin. When the slopes steepened with no sign of a trail, I realized my mistake and made my way back down and around some low cliffs. I found the trail making its way up toward the El Diente ridge, and I crossed a small snowfield to meet it. The snow was very hard here, and as the slope steepened I found myself wishing I had not left my crampons back at camp. I chopped steps in the ice with my axe, and reached the rock again. At this point I stowed my trekking poles and stuck the axe between the pack and my back to keep it handy.

The route to El Diente meanders around cliffs and snow slopes, and I found some nice solid rock ribs to climb on. I reached the point where the North Slopes route traverses under the Organ Pipes, and soon reached the ridge. I then had to cross to the north side of the ridge and continue to El Diente's summit. Here I found hardpacked snow and some ice in a few key areas, and this made the final stretch a little spooky in places. I reached the summit at 07:40, and seriously debated my continuing on the traverse to Mount Wilson. I had some alternate plans in case I found the traverse too dicey; I could descend back into Kilpacker Basin and continue up to Wilson's southwest slopes and avoid the traverse, or I could drive around to Silver Pick and climb Mount Wilson on the standard route the next day. Neither of these sounded good to me, since I was already way up on the ridge and the weather was absolutely perfect, showing no signs of deteriorating. My best chance was right now.

At 07:45, I left El Diente's summit, backtracking to the point where the south slopes and north slopes routes met. I found I had missed the route down the south slopes, and figured I'd go along the ridge for a while to check it out. It didn't take long before I was bypassing some towers on the south side of the ridge, and when I regained the ridge I could see that I was going to continue. The ridge was clean of snow along its crest, and the rock was solid and fun. I crossed the easy stretch of ridge up and over the 14,110' summit, and could see the rest of my route. I had to descend to a 13,980' saddle, then climb onto an exposed coxcomb, then do some final manuvering before reaching the notch just below Wilson's summit. From where I stood, negotiating the coxcomb looked easy.

          
Fotos ©2003 by John C. Maki

At 09:30 I stood on the 13,980' saddle just before the coxcomb, and had a snack while I contemplated the route. This might be the best place for escape from the ridge on the north and the south sides, though the north side looked a little steep. One advantage to traversing from El Diente to Wilson is that by the time you reach this point, you've covered 75% of the traverse without too much commitment, and if the weather looks sketchy at this point you can bail out easily. I crossed a small snowfield to the southeast and followed a couple cairns leading me up on class 3 terrain. The ledges here reminded me of Wetterhorn's summit pitch, and after only one wrong turn I reached the crest of the coxcomb. The "devious downclimb", which I upclimbed in the reverse of Roach's description, was not difficult at all to find from below.

Crossing the coxcomb, while technically trivial, is not for the timid. The exposure is dramatic on both sides, and at times the ridge is only a foot or so wide. The rocks that make up the ridgeline appear as though they're about to fall at any moment, but are actually quite solid. At one point I had to scoot along on my butt to pass an especially scary section, but for the most part I live for exposure like this. Exiting the coxcomb on the east end was no picnic; following the ridge crest did not seem to work, so I backtracked a bit and chose to drop down off the north side. To do this, I downclimbed some class 4 rock and after some routefinding quandaries, I hung from the rock by my arms and kicked steps into a small but steep snowfield until I had descended enough to jump onto some rocks below the snow. In general, though the rocks look haphazardly placed, most of the hand and footholds on the traverse were solid. The rock is of an angular nature and perfect finger-width cracks are everywhere.

After the coxcomb, the route description says to traverse south of the ridge a bit further to get to the notch below Wilson's summit. I started this traverse, but reached a point where it was not obvious how to get to the other side. I started up a chimney and was just wondering if I was getting in over my head, when I heard someone say "hello". Just to my right was another climber, right where I thought I wanted to be. Evidently he was making the traverse in the opposite direction. I told him I was working out how to get from my side to his side, but that I didn't think this chimney was the way. He looked below and thought he might climb down rock to a steep snow slope, but I told him I didn't see an easy way for him to do that. I decided to move to the north and climb up a different weakness in the ridge, and the other climber, who was now joined by his partner, thought they could get to that point from above. I moved out of their way while they made their way across and downclimbed some steps to get where I was. Well, that settled it. We exchanged information about our respective climbs and what to expect, and parted ways. I climbed up the steps and found an easy path to the last saddle.

All that was left was to reach Wilson's summit ridge and climb it. I had a gully to cross which was the head of Wilson's southwest slopes route, and after crossing the snow there I found myself up against a wall. I started up a path where I saw a couple boot prints, but this person was also mixed up about which way to go. I went back down and then north to find an easier couloir which led me to Wilson's north ridge above the notch where the north and south routes meet. If I had gone a bit further I would have found this easy notch, but it made little difference at this point. Now, all that separated me from Wilson's summit was a 150' stretch of narrow, exposed, scary ridge. I dropped my pack here and headed for the summit.

Foto ©2003 by John C. Maki

I thought the ridge was easy. After all the difficulty I experienced with El Diente and the traverse, the ridge was a cakewalk. Narrow, yes; exposed, yes; difficult? I didn't think so. A sharp scramble mostly on the very crest of the ridge, and I reached Wilson's summit at 10:47. I couldn't find a register, so I just sat and soaked in the sun and the views. Just a hint of a breeze was blowing, and I saw nobody around except the pair I had passed earlier and a couple of climbers on Gladstone's summit. What a perfect day. The climbers on the traverse had just passed the coxcomb. I really would have liked to hang out here for hours, but my mind nagged that I should get moving since I didn't know how the descent was going to go, then I still had to pack camp and hike back out to the trailhead. I stayed until 11:00, then scrambled back down the ridge. I have to say that I find it interesting that Lou Dawson rated El Diente's north slope as a novice route while rating Mount Wilson advanced. To me, El Diente was a lot trickier than Wilson. Maybe it was only due to the icy conditions I encountered on El Diente's north side.

Just above the snow slope leading down into Kilpacker Basin, I stopped to put on a long sleeved shirt, gaiters, and snow gloves. The snow was a little hard and a little steep at the top, but the sun was upon it already. The snow's surface was pocked by numerous suncups, which gave me good footing as I gingerly stepped down the slope, protecting against a fall with the pick of my ice axe. As I descended the angle of the slope relented, and soon I was upright and walking easily down the slope. At one point I lost my footing and used the axe to self-arrest, and the pick must have caught a solid spot as it was nearly jerked out of my hands. This stressed out the muscles on my right shoulder quite a bit, and I found myself wishing that I had just rode the fall out instead.

Foto ©2003 by John C. Maki

I was able to butt slide, boot ski, and walk on beautiful snow all the way down to 12,350', with the exception of a couple short scree fields. This made the descent of Wilson into Kilpacker very reasonable, but without such a snow cover, I don't think I'd want to repeat it. At 12:45 I reached camp and made a beeline for that one can of Guinness, and enjoyed it while filtering some cold water into a Nalgene jar for the hike out. An hour and a half later, with very sore shoulder and neck muscles from the overstuffed and undersuspended pack, I reached the trailhead. I was incredibly hungry and exhausted, and after calling Donna my next stop was the Subway in Ridgway. Another 7 hours drive and I was home.

This climb was probably my most difficult undertaking, but I nearly always felt confident of my ability to handle it. I did my best to keep the difficulty below 5th class, and when faced with anything more difficult I searched until I found a better way. At times I had to pull difficult moves over huge exposures, and sometimes I just found it best not to look down. But the rock was solid in these difficult areas, and I never felt that I was in danger. I think doing this climb has shown me how much I've grown as a climber in the last year. Even so, once I was home and in my bed, drifting off to a fitful sleep, I jerked awake once or twice with falling dreams...