7/5/08 – UN 13,062 A, UN 13,060 A & UN 13,028 – Mas Alto Traverse via Hermit Pass

12.1 miles, 5540' – map of route


As I approach my 30th birthday, I've become more conscious of time's rapid flight. How is it that I met my wonderful wife a third of my lifetime ago? How is it that I climbed my first peak seven years ago? How is it that it's been nearly four years since I first laid eyes on this beautiful string of mountains from the summit of Rito Alto Peak?

I had gotten sick Labor Day weekend of 2004, and I had to abandon a climb of Lackawanna Peak as we neared treeline, leaving our friend Dwight to attain that centennial's summit alone. I wasn't ready to give up on our weekend, though, and Erin and I made the relatively short trip to the Wet Mountain Valley. Rito Alto Peak would be our goal for that Labor Day, and Erin drove us up the bumpy Hermit Pass Road to a pull-out near Horseshoe Lake. With a start above 12,000', I felt confident that I could reach the peak. I awoke the next morning feeling better, and we set off for the monarch of the Sangre de Cristos north of the Crestones. I managed to hike Rito Alto, Hermit Peak, and Eureka Mountain that day, but it was the unnamed peaks lying to the west that continually drew my gaze. The mountains rising above Mas Alto Lake seemed to epitomize the range's raw beauty, and their isolated position seemed to assure solitude. I knew I had to climb them, and soon.

And now it's been four years.

As I planned for our 4th of July weekend, I realized that my aspirations to head to the San Juans were out of reach, and I sought out mountains closer to home. The Mas Alto Peaks represented a gaping hole for us in the Sangre de Cristos. It was finally time to remedy this. Trip reports on these obscure mountains are few and far between. A couple reside on 14erWorld, but both describe ascents made from San Isabel Creek. I knew that only a climb that stared down these peaks' fiercest aspects would satisfy me – the view from Hermit Pass was too much to pass up – but the available TRs left me wondering how to accomplish such a trip. The crux of traversing the Mas Altos is a sixty-foot cliff between 13,062 and 13,060 rated at 5.0-5.2. While studying the map, I realized I'd be most comfortable climbing rather than downclimbing this crux, and suddenly my route became clear. Descend from Hermit Pass to Rito Alto Lake, bushwhack up a gentle, wooded slope to the base of 13,062's east ridge, complete the traverse, and descend to Mas Alto Lake via 13,028's north slopes. There were two potential issues with this plan: (1) Would we be able to drive high enough on the Hermit Pass Road to make the day reasonable? (2) Does 13,062's east ridge cliff out?

With respect to the former, I had seen online that folks have been reaching the upper trailhead on the South Colony Road, so I reasoned that we'd at least be able to make it as high as 11,000'. This brought the day within reach – a 15-mile, 6200' effort – but I was hoping Erin would be able to drive us further than that. Regarding the latter, the jury was still out. My pictures from 2004 were inconclusive. Clearly, we'd have to penetrate a potentially cliffy band of rock for its upper hundred feet. Whether this would by something we could scramble up was unknown since all our pictures showed the peak head-on, presenting none of the topographical relief. We'd just have to roll the dice and see what happens. Worst comes to worst, we could always hike to Mas Alto Lake, reverse my planned route and save 13,062 for some other day.

We left Denver for the familiar route through Pueblo and the Wet Mountains at 12:30 AM, and Erin drove us up the tedious Hermit Pass Road. It wasn't until around 11,700' that we were stopped by a snowdrift and forced to park at a switchback, agreeably knocking 3 miles off our day. We hit the road a few minutes before 5:00 as day broke to the east. We recognized our car-camping spot from 2004 as we passed by Horseshoe Lake, and soon after, the sun rose above a low band of clouds, splashing Eureka and Hermit with deep reds. We contemplated UN 12,671 as we hiked toward Hermit Pass. Would we have the energy to tack it on following a successful climb? Or might the modest 12er serve as a consolation prize after being stymied by our goals? I grew anxious as the morning light shifted to more traditional hues and poured over the Wet Mountain Valley.

We arrived at the pass and were thrilled with what we saw. If the Mas Altos were going to stop us, it would have nothing to do with snow conditions. We began the descent west from the range crest. I had been under the impression that prior to the creation of the Sangre de Cristo Wilderness the Hermit Pass Road stretched from valley to valley, continuing all the way down Rito Alto Creek, but clearly the road ends in the upper basin before even reaching Rito Alto Lake. We followed the road along a long switchback, but we left it to head directly down a rounded ridge. The views of the Mas Altos were astonishing while we passed by a pond that lay where the ridge mellowed into a shoulder. Both of us were gushing superlatives as the peaks' beauty and ruggedness revealed themselves. Soon we reached the trees, and we continued to contour wide to avoid steeper, cliffy terrain and rejoin the trail. We passed a fisherman at Rito Alto Lake, the only person we'd see until we were back on the east side of the pass.

We left the trail just beyond the lake. To follow it further would be folly because gentle, wooded slopes swiftly transition to cliff bands as you head north. Our plan worked perfectly, and we arrived at a small clearing at the base of 13,062's east ridge. The views from this spot showed a lush side of the Sangres. Rarely have I seen so much green in this dry range. We disturbed some elk in the meadow, and they sped off, up and over the ridge. Erin and I ascended grassy slopes all the way to the ridge crest, and as we got closer to our first goal for the day, it became clearer that we'd have no trouble climbing the rocky terrain atop the peak's east ridge. Ultimately, the scrambling proved rather light, with grassy chutes regularly cutting through the cliff bands, and my attention shifted toward the traverse ahead of us and the crux of the route just a quarter-mile away. When we reached the summit, we realized it had been just 75 minutes since we left the lake, meaning we had cranked out 1700' in that time.

We spent just a few moments atop 13,062 before moving on toward our next peak. We were anxious to get to the base of the crux. This would be the hardest climbing I've attempted on an alpine peak without a lead from a friend. We hiked on the east side of some beautiful pinnacles and had a seat so I could don my helmet and stow my poles. Erin helped me identify a good starting point, and suddenly I recognized the chockstone that Gary Neben pointed out in his trip report. The climbing was fun and interesting on solid Crestone conglomerate rock, and there were a number of places for me to stop and contemplate my next move. I pulled up and over the chockstone, climbed a small wall, slipped around a rib, and then ascended a rib directly before reaching easier terrain. I had asked Erin if she'd prefer me to go first, but in retrospect I wish I'd have encouraged her to go first because she was getting nervous. It didn't help her state of mind that clouds were building over the range crest. I was blissfully unaware of this fact since it was still relatively early in the morning and I hadn't been checking. I asked her if she wanted me to scope out the grassy route mentioned as a possibility in Kirk Mallory's report. I saw that it would go well for her, and told her to start heading that way. It only took a few moments before she caught sight of me atop the ridge. Erin had to do some light scrambling – similar to what we'd done on 13,062 – to reach the crest.

We enjoyed some more scrambling before reaching 13,060's summit, but again we couldn't tarry long. We discussed possible spots to bail off the ridge if the weather were to deteriorate. While we could descend to the west for the remainder of the traverse, only one spot at the 13,060/13,028 saddle looked like it would grant us passage to the Mas Alto Lake basin. We committed to a fast push to 13,028, and off we went. Two false summits, each with about 100' of rise, intervened but we were able to bypass one of the two on a convenient, grassy ledge. We kept a close eye on the clouds. The first one that had built that morning was rapidly dissipating, but several others were organizing to the north and south. We spent a couple minutes atop 13,028 – peering down the peak's precipitous east face was essential – before beginning the descent to Mas Alto Lake. The greater two peaks of our day looked radiant rising above the lake, and we descended the gentle grade swiftly. The building clouds created some dramatic lighting on the mountains, illuminating one peak even while its neighbor remained in the shade. We passed the lake on its east side, and as we did Erin noticed some fresh bear tracks in the snow. It was so cool to know the burly beast had traipsed through this secluded basin just a few hours ago. We wondered just what had led the bear to climb up there where food must be in shorter supply.

Viewed from afar, the descent from Mas Alto Lake back to the trail looked like it could get complicated, but in the end it proved easy to follow the path of least resistance. We passed by a number of small tarns while light and shadow danced across Rito Alto Peak, betraying complex geological origins that, with a superficial glance, can go unnoticed on its otherwise banal west slopes. We reached the lake without event and were presented with the stirring sight of a 70-foot waterfall plunging from the ragged basin beneath 13,028's east face into the Rito Alto basin. The falls were something we noticed early on in the day while descending from Hermit Pass, but from this angle, you could clearly see how far the water is flung from the cliff face. What a fantastic place!

We continued to push hard: up the trail, through the trees, and up Rito Alto's shoulder. When we reached the road at the switchback from earlier, the rain and hail began, and it would continue for the next hour as we returned to the 4Runner. We were relieved to reach Hermit Pass again, and neither of us could help but reflect upon the irony that the pass most likely lies higher than any of the peaks we summitted that day. There was an Explorer stuck in the mud as we neared our vehicle, but he got out of his mess before we got out of our sopping boots and clothes. We stopped by Adolfo's in Pueblo for some speedy Mexican food before returning to Denver.

I learned an important lesson on this trip. The rain had been light, and I hadn't bothered to stow my camera in my pack. I didn't think it would matter. Indeed, I was taking pictures even as we reached the 4Runner. My mistake was that I didn't take the camera out of its case before we drove back to Denver. The case had gotten damp, and during the drive the humidity apparently seeped into the camera. It wouldn't start when I tried to download our pictures. The SD card fortunately was unaffected otherwise I probably would never have written this TR, but my Canon SD800IS was a lost cause. The poor camera had barely lasted a year. So if your case gets damp, take it from me, remove your camera from it as soon as you can!