7/23/05 – Milwaukee Peak, Pico Asilado & UN 13,020 – East Face, "The Wedgie", East Ridge

12.3 miles, 6350'


Pico Asilado! I've been dreaming of this beautiful peak ever since I first laid eyes on it from Milwaukee Peak in 2003. Pico's easiest route is from the west from the summit of UN 13,020, but I wanted to come from over the summit of Milwaukee Peak and tackle its more challenging east face. When we didn't get around to it last year, it became my #1 priority for 2005. Over those two years as I learned more about the route from new publications like the Wingers' Sand Dunes book and Dave Cooper's recent Colorado Scrambles book, I realized that bringing a short rope would be prudent. We enlisted our buddy Kurt to come along and aid in our routefinding. He was anxious to take in another climb with us before we left the state in late August. We also piqued Dwight's interest in Pico during our climb with him of Mount Powell the Sunday before.

During the week preceding the trip, Kurt started to pitch us on some other mountains like Coxcomb Peak. He had just spent a weekend rock climbing, and he was eager to use some of the new gear he purchased. I wrote to him that, although his offer was tempting, I couldn't say no to Pico given that this was probably the last chance I'd have at the peak until 2007. So Kurt replies, "Why not do 'em both!" Indeed, why not? The only complication I could see was the drive between the climbs. Coming around from the Wet Mountain Valley all the way to the Cimarrons didn't make a whole lot of sense. Then it dawned on me. Why am I so beholden to the Music Pass approach? We could start from the west in the San Luis Valley, hike the Cottonwood Creek trail all the way to Milwaukee Pass, and complete the very traverse that I had been planning on. When I plotted out the route, it actually was shorter and with less elevation gain than the Music Pass approach.

Erin and I couldn't leave town early enough to drive down with Kurt and Dwight, so we met up with them at the Cottonwood Creek Trailhead early Saturday morning and set off up the trail at 4:00 a.m. This was Erin's and my third trip up Cottonwood. Our first trip was in 2002 to climb Crestone Peak, and this was one of the toughest, longest climbs of our lives at that point in time. Last year we camped in Cottonwood Creek to climb Crestolita, Crestone Peak, and Broken Hand Peak, but with a heavy pack, the approach up Cottonwood was very demanding. So I was happy to note the ease with which we made quick progress up the valley. As dawn made its slow approach and we passed the turnoff for Cottonwood Lake, I was excited to explore some beautiful, new terrain because we had never hiked up Cottonwood beyond this junction. I'd be caught off-guard nonetheless by the rich display nature had in store for us.

In the area near the turnoff to Cottonwood Lake, the creek cuts through massive, exposed slabs surrounded by pines to either side; it's gorgeous. Continuing up Cottonwood reveals more of this terrain before mellowing into a series of lovely meadows as we passed Crestolita to the north. The wildflower display here was fabulous; Erin and I had never seen a Sangre valley so choked with bluebells, monkshood, and other flowers. Meanwhile, Crestolita continued to impress, especially once it revealed its sheer east face. Behind us UN 13,020 was also picking up the strong morning light.

The route became harder to follow, but we found some use trails cutting through the thick vegetation. We were surprised to come upon some campers at the head of a meadow. They asked us when we arrived, "Did you see the bears?" By a matter of minutes we had missed a pair of bears that had come tromping through here, disappearing into the willows! One of campers showed us some pictures of the bears he had just taken on his digital camera while they explained that they were with the Colorado Division of Wildlife. Two of them were off to count bighorn sheep in the area. Their itinerary had them climbing up and over a gentle spot on Crestone Peak's long south ridge to drop into the pristine, infrequently visited basin southwest of the Peak. We wished them well and resumed our hike.

Facing a final section of uphill before entering the basin at the rear of the valley, we took a break underneath Broken Hand Peak. We reached a small grouping of quiet ponds before we located the trail that would take us to Milwaukee Pass. The trail here is in great shape, kindly switchbacking the 600' to the pass, and from here, Crestolita and Broken Hand form an eye-catching duo. We couldn't help but make a short detour to check out an overlook into South Colony Creek near the top.

Erin and I recognized the point where we joined the route we took two years ago (two years nearly to the day!), as we hiked the last switchback to the pass, and we remembered fondly the interesting perspective on Pico Asilado from here. I had been secretly nervous about reaching Milwaukee's crux. Would I find the move more exposed or difficult? I had to wait to learn the answer, though, because I wanted to take some pictures of the rest of the group working their way across. From a notch you have to climb a 10-foot, third-class wall. Atop the wall you arrive at the beginning of a convenient ramp cutting across the sheer cliffs of Milwaukee's east face. The problem is there's this several foot-wide gap in the ramp. You have to select handholds on the face (thankfully this is Crestone conglomerate rock) and at least one tiny foothold, ignore the 700' of exposure to your back, and pull yourself across. After Kurt led the charge, Dwight quickly followed. Erin struggled with the length of the stretch required by the strategy Kurt and Dwight employed, so she ended up climbing a slightly higher route on the rock. Now it was my turn, and I was glad to feel so comfortable with the move – definitely easier than the first time!

Erin, Dave Cameron, and I spent a considerable amount of time finding our way up Milwaukee past the crux ramp during our 2003 climb, so I was glad to know the route. We already had our helmets on, which was a good thing climbing the loose-ish gully to the crest of Milwaukee's north ridge. Pico Asilado egged us on while we made the final scramble to the summit and its 360-degree views. Only two or three parties had signed the register since Erin's and my last visit! I retrieved my notes and binoculars so we could start studying the route up Pico's east face. By all accounts, climbing Pico wouldn't be an easy. In 2003, Erin and I watched Dave struggle with the routefinding on the tricky series of gullies and ledges before he retreated back to Milwaukee, and the guidebook descriptions I've read aren't very specific (and sometimes contradictory) about how to tackle the face's problems. While I buried my nose in my notes, Kurt was immediately drawn to the prominent crack that splits the face, an elegant line that sweeps steeply, terminating at the summit. I was definitely skeptical about this proposed route, but Kurt convinced me that we should give it a try.

While we downclimbed the ridge from Milwaukee, we started joking about climbing Pico's crack, and the conversation degenerated from there. Before long, Kurt started calling our route The Wedgie, and the name stuck. It doesn't take much to entertain us! From the Pico Asilado/Milwaukee saddle, we began a gently ascending traverse toward the base of The Wedgie, but before we got there, we had to downclimb in and out of a significant gouge in the slopes. As we drew nearer, The Wedgie's base began to take on the appearance of a gaping maw. From the get-go, climbing The Wedgie was quite steep and very agreeable – plenty of third- and fourth-class but with lots of small ledges to rest on. As we got higher, the crack narrows to the point where Dwight and Kurt moved out onto the wall of the crack, and finished the climb that way. I didn't notice them, though, and I put Erin and myself in a really tight spot. We wedged our way through and finished the scramble to the top, where we were surprised at just how close to the summit we were – only a few feet away! I found myself wondering if some adventurer could use The Wedgie as a snow climb.

We all relaxed on Pico's commodious summit. Looking down into the valley, I was struck by how the meadows were tinted blue from the wildflowers even from this great height! Pico's summit offers a nice view of Milwaukee's gentler side, and a fantastic perspective on The Crestones. With the clouds starting to build, though, we couldn't linger too long before we began the traverse to UN 13,020. We passed some odd formations while descending, which went quickly using the wide, class-2 gully on Pico's west face. We crossed the saddle and started our last uphill push of the day. There's not that much you can say about 13,020; it's just a big lump with 360' of rise. The views were still great, though, especially looking back to Pico.

Next we had to hike southwest to a small saddle before we dropped down a scree gully and a loose talus field down to the unnamed lake in this small hanging basin south of Cottonwood Creek. With the weather now seeming to stall a bit, we started talking about taking a dip in the lake. Kurt pulled ahead during the junky descent from the ridge, and he was in the water well before the rest of us got there. The water was cold and refreshing! Then we spent a while just enjoying the shade and talking. We probably burned a good hour up there! I felt a pang as we picked up our things to resume our hike when I realized that this was the last time I'd see Crestone Peak for a good while. Erin and I had already planned out the rest of our time in Colorado, and there simply wasn't going to be another chance to go to the Sangres. We dropped down the steep, forested slope and through the wildflowers to the main valley below. We bumped into one of the fellows from Division of Wildlife, so we chatted for a while behind a breathtaking view of Pico Asilado's northwest face. Enough stops, though, we had to get moving so that we might get to the Cimarrons at a reasonable hour tonight!

I wanted to be alone most of the way down, and I focused on trying to soak up the spirit of the Sangres, trying to notice and remember everything I could. Which was good because there was no time for reflection once we reached the trailhead. No sooner had we taken off our boots and quenched our parched mouths when the bottom dropped out on us. It was pouring! We decided to hit the road. What a storm this was! I read trip reports from people who were camped at Willow Lake or Cottonwood Lake that evening, and on top the torrential rain there were some periods of very intense lightning.

Kurt and Erin drove us through Saguache and over the Cochetopa Hills to get to Gunnison, where we ate at Garlic Mike's. This was a great idea for the excellent fare but not so great an idea because of how long we had to spend there. I'll often appreciate the relaxed pace of a family-style Italian restaurant, but we didn't need to spend two hours in Gunnison that night! Erin and Kurt were amazingly able to keep rolling after the meal, though they needed to stop for power naps a couple of times. Winding along Blue Mesa Reservoir was only the half of it, because then they had to drive the 20 dirt-road miles to Silver Jack Reservoir where we could sleep. Finally at the campground, Erin and I dug around, piling our gear into the front seat so we could car-camp while Kurt and Dwight set up a tent. We got to bed at around midnight, and we agreed to wake up the next morning for our climb of Coxcomb at 5:00....

....which didn't exactly happen.