The following is extracted from the trip journal
notebook I wrote while on an unscripted solo tour through
the mountains in February and March of 2000. A story in
which our hero learns a valuable lesson. Photos follow.
Sunday, March 5, 2000
I did a 12 mile snow shoe trek today! Woof! I
went up the road towards Imogene and Yankee Boy Basin
with the intention of trying Imogene Pass. I parked
where the road was blocked at the bridge about 1.5
miles down road from the switchbacks. I hiked to the
switchbacks (the road was clear) and then put on my
snow shoes. I then walked up past Camp Bird, making
my first mistake, which was I should have crossed the
valley floor at Camp Bird for Imogene Pass, just in
terms of mileage. Instead, I kept on the road to
Yankee Boy Basin. Soon after Camp Bird I passed the
last ice climbing area, and then the snow shoe and
ski tracks stopped, although the jeep road I was on
kept going. So I just walked on, and the untracked
snow was pretty crusty and stiff and held my weight.
It had started snowing shortly after starting out, so
visibility just kept getting worse. When I started it
hadn't been snowing, so I could see quite a ways.
By the time I passed the townsite of Sneffels, it was
down to 100-200 yards and blowing.
I kept trucking on, my goal to reach Blue
Lakes Pass. Shortly (300-400 yards?) after the last
Ruby Walter mine signs, starting to work up by the
last knob (going the right way, not following the
creek on the left), I had an incident that convinced
me to turn around. I figure I was halfway up the
slope of switchbacks shown on the map (although by
this time and place the trail was completely
invisible under the snow). The conditions were pretty
close to whiteout, 100 yards or so, and the lighting
was very "flat", with no distinction in
topography - everything just looked flat and white. I
had already stumbled down little slopes or almost
stumbled over hummocks sticking up that I
couldn't see in the light and with the blowing
snow. Then all of a sudden I was falling and sliding
down a hard snow slope, and one of my poles slid even
further past me. Luckily the slope wasn't long or
too steep, and the crampons on my snow shoes helped
me stop and regain my footing. But it shook me - I
had stepped right off a 8'-10' cornice into
space with no indication of terrain change to warn me
before I fell! The little windswept gully I had
fallen into was capped with cornices on three sides
(only the side leading down was open).
I retrieved my pole and quickly determined to
exit the gully I had "chanced upon" and
return home. It was blowing pretty hard, but since
the San Juan valleys are so tall and narrow, it was
hard to get lost. However, the other factor that made
me turn around was that I could no longer see the
slopes above me. I figure I was at 12,400' or so,
and Mt. Sneffels was right there,
looming above me, and I couldn't see it at all.
No ridge lines or details beyond 100 yards were
discernable. In such intense avalanche country not
being able to see upslope is not a good thing, so it
was time to get the hell out of Dodge. I rested and
ate, then trudged down pretty much non-stop. I was
soaked from the wet, warm snow and whipped when I
reached the car. Overall I did 12 miles (two hiking, 10
snow shoeing) with a 3,600' elevation gain in a
round trip time of 5.5 hours.
