7/25/03 – Tijeras Peak – Northwest Ridge

July 25 – backpack to Lower Sand Creek Lake & Tijeras Peak – 7.9 miles, 3720'
July 26 – Milwaukee Peak & backpack out – 10.1 miles, 3610'
TOTAL – 18.0 miles, 7330'


I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, so I had been eyeballing the Sangre de Cristo peak bearing its name ever since I found out about it. When Dave Cameron asked me if Erin and I would like to join a backpacking trip to Sand Creek, I leaped at the opportunity. Many other 14erWorld members were interested, but in the end, only Erin and I could take off from work on the Friday in order to join Dave in this exciting, new (to us) area of the Sangres.

The plan was to meet Dave at 6:30 a.m. Friday morning at Lower Sand Creek Lake, as he was to backpack in earlier on Thursday. Erin and I had a logistical problem, though, because if we left for the Music Pass TH as soon as we got off from work, we'd still only be able to begin our backpack at 9:00 p.m. on Thursday night. Neither Erin nor I fancied setting up camp by dark, so we elected to leave Broomfield much later, hitting the road at 11:00 p.m. We started our backpack at 4:00 a.m. Friday morning, and the climb to Music Pass was mercifully short, merely 800'. Near the register was a large sign with a map and some text. I noted with surprise that the land we were entering is part of the Great Sand Dunes National Preserve, a sign of how committed the effort is to establish the Sand Dunes as a National Park. The most notable sight from the pass this early morning was Tijeras Peak's stirring silhouette, backlit by deep, pre-dawn blues.

Descending a brief 400' along a singular diagonal cut, we were quickly in the bottom of the valley and the Sand Creek Trail. The junction with the trail to Lower Sand Creek Lake follows soon after, so look sharp if the lake or Tijeras is your goal. As we ascended long and frustratingly gentle switchbacks, we noted with delight the shifting phases of the colorful sunrise over Music Pass. We reached Lower Sand Creek Lake at 6:00 with a keen view of alpenglow on Tijeras' fabulous east ridge and north face, which was also reflecting off the lake's surface. The morning light highlighted Music Mountain's east face, as well. It was a treat to have arrived early, and we swatted a few mosquitoes (early spies and scouts preceding the fleets) as we marveled at our vista. I wondered if some lazy campers, asleep near the lake, had awakened even once during their stay to witness this spectacle, reserved only for those awake at this hour and in this wonderful spot, deep in the midst of the Sangres.

6:30 came and went, but still no Dave. I wandered near the campsites we noted, looking for any telltale signs of Dave, perhaps a rock helmet, but I saw nothing indicating a fellow climber. We hung out at the lake for a while longer, and then decided to hang our packs in a tree for safekeeping during our climb of Tijeras. Just as we were about to raise the packs, a low whistle penetrated the silence. Erin returned the call, and soon Dave appeared from around the lake. He had actually ended up camping at the upper lake and reached us over the Music Mountain's east ridge, which intervenes directly between the two Sand Creek Lakes. Intended as a timesaving measure, Dave ended up downclimbing some fourth-class slabs to reach us. Despite his troubles, he was only half an hour late. He helped us hang our packs, and we set off for the 3 mile round trip to Tijeras.

We climbed forested slopes and soon reached a marshy area that we wish we hadn't. After crossing the small marsh, a moderate scramble up boulders brought us to a broad, open slope that hangs below the crux cliff band that separated us from Tijeras' upper slopes. Garratt & Martin's description of the route through the crux leaves a little to be desired: "the best [ramp] for climbing is approximately centered between sheer cliffs on the right and on the left," not all that helpful when you're dealing with a cliff band. There were, however, a good many ramps to choose from, and we were glad for the challenge of evaluating the ramps and picking the one that looked and felt best. We ended up selecting a ramp that only appeared to us as we traversed north below the cliff band. This not-as-obvious break in the cliffs was the first one we had seen with running water involved – a small but broad trickle splashed on the lower 20' of ramp from above – but it looked like the easiest climb. It was a third-class climb with a few loose rocks, so helmets are advised, even though this segment is short. I led the way and after completing the visible climb, I was able to view the easy finish. I called out for Erin and Dave to follow, and it was very cool to watch them climb up the 100-120' ramp from my perch directly above them. A cairn was atop our ramp, though be warned, for this seems to be the case for more than one. From above the cliffs, the views back to the lake were already impressive.

From here, one just hops up a steep but easy grassy slope. Many rocks lie on this slope, as did wildflowers. Mid-way up the slope we spotted yet another ptarmigan mother amidst the rocks and flora, accompanied by chicks about half her size (three weeks in a row that we've seen ptarmigan youth!). We also saw a couple of ermines in their summer coats playing around on some rocks. Curious critters, they danced on the rocks and cocked their heads in our direction before dashing off. Music Mountain was the prime non-wildlife attraction on the way up these slopes.

Once we reached Tijeras' Northwest Ridge, Kit Carson Mountain and the Crestones came into view, only 3.5 miles to our northwest. They were magnificent, and given the head-on nature of our view of their south couloirs, the Crestones looked unclimbable. You can see why so many said just that upon witnessing the pair's staggering countenance. We elected to stay on or very near the ridge crest the whole quarter-mile to the summit. Doing so involved only an occasional third-class move. The summit revealed our position atop the monarch of the Sand Creek area. Marble is gentle, looking Humboldt-like to the northeast. It and Humboldt were the only lumps in our view north – solitary, gentle giants among a crowd of jagged tumult. Music Mountain's south ridge tears skyward toward its dramatic summit. Milwaukee Peak, tomorrow's goal, and its two eastern ridges appeared intimidating. And we gazed upon Pico Asilado, the hidden Sangre and another possibility for tomorrow. To the south was Mount Herard (alternately, Mount Seven), the final bastion thirteener before the Sangres lay low for Mosca Pass. Beyond Mount Herard, huge despite the 24 miles separating us, were the Blancas, Erin's and my destination for next week.

Our descent was uneventful, though we did stumble upon some ptarmigan again, perhaps the same ones. At the ramp, I couldn't help but take some pictures of Erin and Dave making the downclimb of the ramp. Back at the lake, Erin and I were dreading the backpack to Upper Sand Creek Lake. Once we reached Sand Creek in the valley, I was ready to give. I had hardly spoken during the descent and was utterly exhausted. We chatted with a couple of guys who had tried to ascend Tijeras, but balked because they didn't want to take along a youth, the son of seemingly the more experienced of the two (he had climbed 99 of the centennials, but he was purposefully missing Red Mountain), once they reached the cliff band. They told us that it had been raining in Sand Creek every day for almost a week, and that today was the first break. Erin fell asleep on the rock during this conversation. Erin and I were so tired that we decided we couldn't go on with Dave to the upper lake. He headed for his camp, and we set up ours in a developed spot with good access to Sand Creek for water. We wouldn't have been much fun anyway. We quickly pitched our tent, ate, and went to sleep just after 5:00.

I've been meaning to note just what a zoo Sand Creek was. I had expected Sand Creek to be one of the lesser-visited locales in the Sangres, but it is quite the opposite. Though we had the mountains, ridges, and other high places literally to ourselves, there were a great many people camped in the valley and at the lakes. Many were there for the fishing. Many others were there simply for the great outdoors. In retrospect, I think this area's popularity is for several reasons. One, the 4WD road isn't very difficult. Two, the backpack into the valley is relatively short and easy. Three, the valley, one of the longest in the Sangre de Cristos, is one of the few places where you feel completely surrounded by mountains in that range. Another possible reason is that there aren't any fourteeners around, potentially an attractive characteristic for fishers and campers who know the flocks that South Colony Lakes and other fourteener base-camps can draw.