Satellite image of route (click to enlarge)
The stats
~4.4 miles one-way
3 nights
1 big nasty storm
Preface
My friend and coworker, Tad Bowman, talked me into doing this trip in the weeks leading up to our respective wildflower vacations. The main attraction being Wetterhorn Peak from its basin to the north, where we'd camp and plan to ascend the connecting ridge to the north and where its profile is even more stunning. My vacation was two weeks and the second week was reserved for my Elk Park to Needleton trip. So, what better way to fill up the remaining time than another backpacking trip with great scenery.
The trip
This three-night backpacking trip started on the second day of my wildflower trip. Tad and I met up at the intersection of Matterhorn Creek road and the Engineer Pass road as I was already in the area and he had just come from shooting sunrise in the Crested Butte area. We drove the remaining distance to the trailhead, then started up the trail at 11:25 AM. That’s certainly not an ideal time to start, but the clouds were not threatening this early, and we only had 2.7 miles and 1,650 feet to go up to the saddle southeast of Matterhorn Peak to be in a better position should a storm come around.
The trail certainly has a decent uphill grade to it, but it seemed steeper (to me) on our return trip out, which is a good thing in that it isn’t as much of a mental hurdle when just starting out. We passed about six to eight hikers on the way up, then a group of about eight when we were at the saddle, where we took a break for lunch.
After we ate, we headed north along the Matterhorn Trail for 3/4 mile, which is a mostly level walk. At this point, the trail descends 500 feet to the East Fork of the Cimarron before ascending just a small bit to get into north Wetterhorn basin. We arrived at the point before the descent at about 2:45. We had planned to shoot Uncompahgre Peak from here for sunset, so we just stayed taking pictures and generally relaxing. The clouds had been quiet all day and we thought it was going to go stormless. They eventually grew dark blue to the north and east. Then, it started to rain and lightning further down the East Fork valley and was heading our way. We headed just a few hundred feet down the trail and hunkered down at the base of a wall, which was as good of a lightning shelter in the immediate area that would also allow quick access back up to the ridge to shoot Uncompahgre at final light. The lightning and rains came at 6:00 and lasted one hour. The sky was overcast and it looked like it was settled in, so we started our way down the trail for the last mile into the north Wetterhorn basin which was our destination. After walking for only a few minutes, there was color in the clouds to the west, then we could see the tip of Uncompahgre getting all lit up. We had already lost too much elevation to be able to make it back up to shoot it, so we lost our chance. We tried (or at least I tried) to get it out of our heads that we lost this opportunity. I could only take comfort in the fact that I had good light for other pictures earlier in the day. We continued on and arrived in the basin in darkness. We briefly scouted around for a level spot for the tents, then hiked around for a bit with our headlamps trying to find flowers and a spot to shoot for sunrise. We both expected more flowers in the basin than what we were seeing at this time. We retreated back to our packs and proceeded to set up our tents and turn in for the night.
Sunrise was cloudless and uneventful, though we certainly got up to take some pictures. We returned to our tents when the good light faded and we both napped, or at least tried to, in the heat of the day. With the sun beaming down on the tents, it is difficult to stay cool. We both ended up lying on the cool tent floor with our sleeping pads and bags on top of us, which definitely helped. 4:00 came and the clouds were getting ramped up. My memory fails me if we actually had rain; I believe we had some, but the lightning stayed in the distance—that I would remember! Our plan coming into this trip was to gain the ridge to the west that connects to Wetterhorn Peak for sunset, though we didn't know how doable it was. Since we felt the storm threat had moved on, we started the hike out at about 5:20, which wouldn't give us a whole lot of time to enjoy the views, and we didn't know how long it would take to ascend. As we got closer to the base of the wall, it looked very doable. The hike up was very steep, but we still made decent time. We were rewarded with a great mountain panorama and, of course, Wetterhorn's profile from here is superb, which was the main draw to this spot. Unfortunately, we didn't get any light on it, but the view was certainly a treat. We would hope for a second attempt the next day.
We headed back down just after the sun would have lit the highest clouds and made it back to camp in the dark. A storm came in around 9:45 and lasted for about an hour. Seeing the tent light up at night is a very eerie and an uncomfortable experience. I was nervous, but thankfully the lightning stayed on the south side of Wetterhorn. A few claps of thunder were at two seconds and a number of lightning strikes were a mile away. Had I thought the lightning would enter our basin, I would've definitely got out of the tent in the rain for an apparent better location. You can bet I was much happier when it finally moved on.
The basin was cloud-filled before sunrise on the second morning, as the system from the night was still working on clearing out. We headed out with our cameras not knowing if we'd have any light, then right at sunrise, we had part of the clouds to our east take on a bit of red, so we knew there was hope. This was followed by a pretty nice show of color, though unfortunately the clouds blocked any direct light from getting to Wetterhorn. Thankfully, we still had stellar conditions a little while later as Wetterhorn finally did get some patchy light while the clouds would go in and out below and all around us. All the clouds burned off by one hour after the sun rose. The morning conditions were just short of perfect.
We went back to our tents to nap like the previous day (getting up at sunrise for us is no walk in the park!). Late morning, while still lying in our tents, we heard a helicopter circle around Uncompahgre. We got out to have a look and it was going back and forth for the better part of an hour around the upper reaches this side of the mountain. It appeared to be a search and rescue/recovery effort, but online searches when we returned home didn't turn up any news, so we're not sure exactly what was going on. A little while later after more rest in the tent, Tad saw a low-flying plane going down the East Fork valley. It was likely a sightseeing outfit, but was a bit odd having both fly around the same area.
In regards to weather, the rest of the second day in the basin pretty much followed the previous day exactly. Clear skies all morning with small clouds showing up and becoming puffy, then building in earnest in late afternoon. Then, dark, ominous clouds started enveloping Wetterhorn and filling the sky overhead. We knew it was coming this time. It was 4:30. We got our rain coats on, got water out of the tents and stood by waiting for the sprinkles, which started moments later. We stood by the creek at the base of the talus field right by our tents, then when the lightning started to get closer, we moved a hundred feet downhill. Lightning was getting closer yet, though still to our west in the other basin. I, still not comfortable with our location, moved around the corner of the talus field down the trail and Tad followed. We stayed about 40 feet apart. It rained, and rained good; it lightninged, and it lightninged even better (or is it worse?!). I mean, it really let its fury loose. Our position along the trail felt horribly exposed. While there was a substantial uphill slope right behind us to our south, we were the highest point until the opposite side of the valley a quarter-mile away. It made us feel very helpless as we looked across all that space. We had three strikes within one second, one of which I saw land about eye level around the base of the talus field below Heisshorn on the far side, which really got our attention. We had a few more strikes at two seconds, three at three seconds, and perhaps about 30 total, though I lost count. We were in the lightning position (as described in this ultimate authoritative lightning resource document) a lot, but that is so uncomfortable and fatiguing that you have to stand up to stretch and can't hold the position for too long at a time. This was so nerve-racking and I was shaking nervously for a good bit. This wasn't a short storm, either; it lasted a painfully long and agonizing, death-defying 2.5 hours worth, which is just about unparalleled for lightning to stay in one place for that length of time. It just kept going and would not stop. Usually, these types of storms last for an hour to an hour and a half. It was the worst storm I've endured by far, and Tad's as well. Just so I'm clear, it was absolutely brutal and horrible! For a memory refresher, it takes about five seconds for thunder to reach you from a strike a mile away, so you can begin to see why we'd be a bit nervous. No lightning ever seemed to drop in our basin proper (for my head was down and ears covered for much of the time, though the sound was quite telling), and most seemed to land on the opposite side of the East Fork drainage. The storm finally moved on at 7:00, and it seemed amazing that we came out alive and unscathed!
The only problem after the storm left was that it was soon time to go to bed, and we were soaked—well, at least our pants were. Tad, shivering with cold, retreated to his tent while there was still a good bit of light remaining. I stayed out and cooked a meal and used that time for the slight breeze to try to dry me off as much as possible, though my pants were still damp when I got in the bag. As luck would have it, it rained again from 11:00 to 12:30 AM though, most thankfully, there was no lightning this time around. I love that kind of rain and enjoy listening to it in the tent then, and only then. You can bet neither of us shut an eye until it finished!
The third sunrise was uneventful and I didn't take any pictures. Tad walked out into the basin and took some. When he came back to camp, we packed up and headed out at 9:25 and made our way back to the trailhead in about 2 hours, 45 minutes.
This was a trip that really made me question why I do this. We both talked about it a bit after the storm. We could have simply stayed home on the couch eating chips! It would be so easy to do, and probably be even easier in the future (for me). I've actually thought about why on other trips, but during the storm on this one, it really seemed like it isn't worth it. I'm certainly not addicted to backpacking trips, but I do really like seeing wonderful mountains that I wouldn't be able to otherwise. And the picture-taking? I sure seem to have enough of those, but I sure like looking at them when I get home from trips. But man, the stories and the memory of a trip's experience sure grows into epic proportions when you get home and reminisce about the wonderful accomplishments and what all you've seen.
Now, who wants to buy some backpacking gear?!
Arrival day's sunrise from the Engineer Pass road looking off to the region we'd soon be in
Starting out at the trailhead
A nice early stroll early on
Along Matterhorn Creek
Matterhorn Cutoff Trail #245 goes left; we go right. The trail makes one switchback off-frame to the right before continuing on directly above the sign.
A very beautiful headwall
Wilderness boundary
Matterhorn Peak and the saddle the trail ascends
Our first good glimpse of Wetterhorn
Wetterhorn
Our saddle nears, which lies at the 2.7-mile mark, but still a ways off
One of our first views of the giant Uncompahgre Peak, the highest in the San Juans and 7th-highest in the state at 14,309'
Uncompahgre in full view
Looking north from along the slopes of Matterhorn Peak to "El Punto" (left)
Looking down the East Fork of the Cimarron from the saddle
Matterhorn Peak
Starting around Matterhorn
East Fork of the Cimarron
Looking to the southeast at the head of the East Fork drainage
Looking northwest along the shoulder of Matterhorn Peak. The trail, some of which can be seen in the picture, including one switchback, drops 500 feet to just above the valley floor before climbing back up a bit to our basin destination.
"El Punto"
The storm starting out further down the East Fork
Some clips from the top
After the storm, we wait until just before sunset thinking there wouldn't be any light the rest of the day. Stupid photographers, we never learn!
Someone's getting a light show somewhere . . .
Over a half-year later, I found out Washington photographer, Alex Mody, got it from the other side.
Meanwhile, our friend, Jody Grigg, caught the tail end after trying to sleep in his tent on an opposite ridge in the storm.
We had been atop that ridge, and we should of stayed to catch Uncompahgre getting lit up
Sunrise
The next morning at camp, at 12,130'
Matterhorn Peak
Not a bad view to wake up to
Just before the one-hour storm on day 2. Though there was very close lightning, it stayed behind the ridge to the left.
After the storm, we start heading up to the connecting ridge off Wetterhorn above camp
Our destination lies on the ridge behind the hill on the right, 1,100' feet above camp
Looking back to camp
Tad making his way up the wall
Finally on top with Tad coming up behind finishing the grueling steep portion
Looking off to the Sneffels Range. Potosi Peak and Mt. Sneffels are the two prominent peaks.
Coxcomb Peak and Redcliff
Wetterhorn with Handies Peak on the far right
A very sweet ridge
Tad shooting me as I take following . . .
The view down Middle Fork of the Cimarron. "Fortress Peak" on the left with Precipice Peak poking out behind. Silver Jack Reservoir lies somewhere in the squall where the ridges converge in right-center.
Summit panorama