June 15-16, 2023
Around May of 2022 I caught wind of a new alpine ascent up Crestone Peak’s West Face via an article in the Alamosa Citizen. SLV locals Logan Hjelmstad, Curt Howell, and Madeleine Ahlborn had made a successful first ascent up Crestone Peak’s massive West Face on 5/15/22. To most of everyone’s knowledge, this face more than likely had never been climbed before due to it’s remote nature and lack of trail to access to the basin. I had been scouting this side of the peak from the Crestone Ziggurat for the better part of the last year and am stunned a party had actually pulled it off! This climbing party is incredibly strong, visionary, and truly courageous for taking on such an insane first ascent! Not to mention the amount of hard work Logan put into documenting the GPX tracks, establishing somewhat of a trail, and posting info about the climb on 14ers.com; they truly laid the groundwork for some future adventurous alpine climbing on this beautiful Crestone Conglomerate… and that’s where we come in!
Ever since I mentioned the climb (Fish in a Barrel) to climbing partner William, he was immediately interested. We both love adventurous climbing and we were hungry at the idea of a second ascent. Since we had already climbed the some of best technical lines in the Sangres, this opportunity for something new and fresh was very exciting. Originally our plan for the month of June was the Southwest Ridge of Challenger Point, but somehow I had talked William into this much greater, truly memorable climb. Oh if only we had known what we were getting ourselves into…
We left the Cottonwood Creek trailhead around 3:15PM Thursday evening with a plan to bivy at the basin below the West Face around dusk. 2.5 miles into the trail, the approach veers north and bushwhacks along the North Fork of Cottonwood Creek for a grueling 2 miles uphill before reaching the basin near tree line. We hadn’t exactly gone into this one super light: hauling all of our bivy gear, rock shoes, ice boots, axes, and crampons, twin ropes and a double rack. This was a first for both of us: since there was so much snow around the basin and separating the two headwalls, we needed to approach and descend in ice gear to remain safe, but climb in rock shoes (as neither of us are super strong leaders in ice boots). This meant climbing with big packs and more weight than we are used to. We arrived at camp, about a mile from the first headwall, around 6:45PM. We filtered water, chatted, ate some dinner, and looked up in awe at the massive test piece we were about to endure. Silently, we studied our line on that mesmerizing behemoth of a cliff until the sun went down.
We awoke at dawn at 5:30AM. Rain overnight had left the two of us feeling a little uneasy about getting on the climb, but we decided since we were already here, to give it a try. We were fully prepared in every way to bail if the conditions were impassable. After a breakfast and poops, we embarked with our climbing packs and crampons up the snow apron another 500 vertical feet to the base of the headwall. The start of “Fish in a Barrel” seemed quite obvious, beginning near a huge right facing flake that leads to a wider crack. We inspected the face: there was a good bit of water running down the face, but in most spots the rock was dry. Our line looked relatively snow and ice free: green light! We found a small dry crevice where we could transition from crampons to rock shoes and I embarked upon the first lead of the journey.
Pitch 1 – 5.8PG-13 – 180′
It’s nice to be back home on this lovely Crestone Conglomerate that I remember so fondly. This rock is known for its massive holds, but considerable lack of protection, an unfortunate oversight I had when deciding to bring a double rack of cams and nuts. Whoops! We began around 7:30AM. Pitch 1 climbed mostly dry rock into a wider chimney-like crack. The crux move (perhaps of the entire route) was circumventing a left facing vertical wall about 25 feet tall with some wet foot holds. The gear below the crux was okay. My foot slipped on ice while making the big move, but I caught myself since I was matched on a big jug. I found a good belay and brought William up.
Pitch 2 – 5.8PG-13 – 255′ (60′ of simul climbing)
William was down to swing the leads so we made a quick transition and he set off onto pitch 2. He moved quite swiftly up what was probably the most vertical pitch of the entire climb, as opposed to taking the less steep, but very wet chimney. Again the gear on the dry rock face was less than inspiring. The pitch mostly climbed on the face, then got into a right facing flake near the end. William reached the end of the rope, but I told him I’d be comfortable simul-climbing another 60 feet or so on easy terrain. He continued on and took a good while to find a belay. I followed the pitch on minimal gear (good job, William!) and met at the belay. William’s anchor was less than ideal, but he was completely out of rope and surrounded by ice. He did his best.
Pitch 3 – Low 5th Class – 100′
We decided the next portion of the climb before we hit the snow apron was pretty easy 5th class climbing (maybe 5.3 at the most difficult move) and decided to climb in coils. Though the moves were easy, this portion had the most amount of running water and ice, so we moved slowly and deliberately in our coiled up suicide pact. We made it to the base of the snow and began our next transition from rock shoes to ice boots and crampons once again.
Pitch 4 – Moderate Snow – 100′
It’s nice having a little variation on a climb, but I definitely could have gone without packing my ice gear. William and I continued unroped through this short bout of moderate snow. After what seemed like an instant, we were at the base of the main headwall transitioning once again from ice boots and crampons, back again into rock shoes in the only dry crevice on the wall.
Pitch 5 – 5.6 – 180′
I led pitch 5 and must say it was the absolute highlight of the route. Very little wet rock and normal amount of gear (I think I got about 8-10 pieces in). Very flowy and easy route finding up a very obvious weakness in the rock. The pitch was very mellow and had great holds and gear. I built a belay near the base of the gulley where the standard line of “Fish in a Barrel” climbs, but it looked as though it was going to be impassable due to the amount of snow and ice in the gulley.
Pitch 6 – 5.7 – 180′
At the next belay, William and I discussed a game plan for the next pitch. We knew the previously traveled line of “Fish in a Barrel” would not be possible today, but we were making decent time and the alternate weakness to the left seemed very climbable, so we decided to give it a try. William led this one like a bad ass and brought me up quickly. This pitch was also pretty notable for its good gear and fun mellow climbing on a left leaning ramp. This is where new ground is broken and the “Red Snapper Variation” begins.
Pitch 7 – 5.8PG-13 – 180′
As we were on new territory, we sat at the next belay and discussed possible lines for the next pitch. A large, steep gendarme blocked our path directly ahead and we had to decide if we were to climb left or right of it. As I led up to the gendarme, and looked over to the gulley on the right, it too was completely impassable due to snow and ice. I down climbed about 40 feet and switched to the left path: a right facing, steep corner that moved around the tower. The 2nd crux of the route was near the top of this pitch: a near vertical 40 foot corner with lots of loose rock but decent gear. Exciting steep climbing on massive (but sometimes unstable) holds. I built a belay just above the crux and had fun watching William solve the puzzle.
Pitch 8 – 5.7R – 180′
At this point the time was around 2:00PM. We had seen in the forecast that we were supposed to get a pretty bad storm coming in around 3:00PM and the skies definitely looked the part. Massive gray storm clouds accumulated from the west and moved in faster than ever. As we were sitting atop pitch 7, we began to get snowed on and knew that we needed to get down as soon as possible as thunderstorm would quickly follow. I knew the fastest way to get down would be to go up a little further, then rappel into the snow couloir that divides the north and west faces of the peak. Rappelling our entire route at this point would be counterintuitive. Our mindsets changed pretty rapidly with the weather and William relinquished the lead to me as he knew I was a faster climber. We transitioned as fast as we could and I set off on the most runout, dangerous portion of the climb: a long traverse along a broken cliffside 60 feet above a steep ice gulley. I focused in, watched my feet and tried to get gear in where I could. I believe I only placed 3 pieces this 60m pitch. My foot slipped on ice again about 40 feet above my last cam, but I managed to catch myself and prevent an accident. This was the wettest, sketchiest and most full on pitch by far. I slung a nice rock horn for an anchor at the top of the traverse and William quickly followed with a fire under his ass.
Pitch 9/Rappel:
At this point, William was pretty shook due to the conditions and weather. The wind and snow was worsening and the rock was getting wetter and wetter. Thunderstorms rolled in close overhead and we really knew we were in a bad spot. Less than 200 feet from the summit (13,970′), I made the call to bail since we were already in a good position to descend into the snow couloir below. William didn’t hesitate an instant to agree to the plan. We used our belay anchor to rappel down an ice gulley that fed into the snow apron that divided the two headwalls. I decided to rappel first and look for a second rappel anchor as we definitely wouldn’t have enough rope to make it down in one go. Near the bottom of this treacherous icy rappel, it took me a while to find some gear, but eventually managed to place a fantastically solid nut on the rock face next to the ice gulley. Normally I like to have at least two pieces for an anchor but it was just absolutely not happening on this rappel. There was no gear to speak of. Well folks, we trusted our life on this little ass nut and it managed to get us down to the snow couloir alive, where we made our final transition from rock shoes back into our ice gear for the descent.
Descent:
Starving, exhausted, and pretty shook by the weather we sacked up for the final difficult portion of the day. Just a little bit more before we could have a bit of a break in this extreme focus. The snow on the way down was incredibly demoralizing: wet, faceted and crystalized, sharp and post holey. We tried to glissade the not so sketchy slopes, but the snow was generally too soft to get any speed. After another hour and a half of slogging, we finally made it back to camp on dry ground. We both had realized we were so focused from pitch 7 and on, that neither of us had really eaten or drank anything all day. We recovered at camp for a quick 20 minutes with some snacks, but got packed up as fast as possible and headed for tree line as the lightning was getting serious and the wind was bearing on our resolve.
The Way Out:
Once back below tree line, we finally let our minds rest a bit. We were both a little shell shocked from the entire day and the abuse we had just endured. Though the weather worsened on our way down, our spirits were high as we made it back to the main trail. The rain motivated us to get down faster and we managed to get back to the car around 8:00PM, broken but accomplished with our own first ascent variation.
My Final Thoughts on the West Face of Crestone Peak:
- Never again will I bring a double rack to the Sangres: it’s just not worth the weight. Most pitches were pretty run out anyway, so having the extra gear was really not worth it.
- Thanks again to Logan and the FA party of “Fish in a Barrel,” we could not have climbed our variation line without all the hard work that you guys put into this project. We are both eternally grateful for your incredible vision.
- Happy to finally get a first ascent under my belt! This was one of the most full on experiences I’d ever been through.
- This may have been my biggest, most epic bail off a mountain to date, but least it wasn’t a big fail. Less than 200 feet from the summit of Crestone Peak, I’m glad we turned around. If we had kept going, there’s a serious chance I wouldn’t be here writing this right now. As if our rappel descent down the ice gulley on a single nut wasn’t sketchy enough! I’m happy we made it out safely and in one piece. It also leaves someone else the chance to go finish our line: go get it!
Not Ideal, but Fine 