Mount Antero and Cronin Peak

Brad's Outdoor Adventures

Trip Report: Mount Antero and Cronin Peak
Mount Antero, 14,269 ft. / Cronin Peak, 13,870 ft.
Class 2, with snow
Distance (Round-trip): abt. 13.5 miles
Elevation Gain: abt. 5,500 ft.

---

The first thing I noticed was the time: 2:49 am. The second thing I noticed was that the moon was no longer shining, and a fresh dusting of snow covered everything in sight. The stars were out however, and the air appeared to be calm. The third, and most troubling thing I noticed, as I started to get out of my zero degree sleeping bag, was the sour feeling in my stomach. I was feeling quite nauseated–not at all what I wanted for the start of a thirteen and a half mile hike with 5,500 feet of elevation gain. I snuggled back into my sleeping bag for a few minutes, but it was no use. I was not feeling great, but I may as well hit the trail while I had plenty of time to spare.

I had arrived at this switch-back of the Baldwin Gulch Road at sunset the night before. After a beautiful three hour drive from Denver, passing by abundant wildlife (deer, bighorn sheep, elk), I had turned up the steep but easy-going four wheel drive trail, wondering how far I could get. The mountains in the area did not appear to have much snow, as I expected, but I was not surprised to meet up with a glaciated snow-drift just half a mile into my journey on the Baldwin Gulch Road. Because there was plenty of room at the switch-back, I turned the jeep around and set up camp at that very spot. There was enough room for anyone to pass should that become an issue. But no one else ever showed. I settled in at my cozy spot at 10,000 feet for a usual restless night in the mountains, and now it was already three in the morning.

By 3:30 I was walking up the road, led along in the dark by my LED headlamp. There were some impressive drop-offs along the road, which I could see even in the dark, but the road itself would be a piece of cake to drive all the way to the four wheel drive trailhead. In fact, I had already driven the steepest section of the first three miles. Furthermore, there was very little snow after the initial obstacle that made me pull to the side. But, walking the remaining two and a half miles was not an issue, except for my incessant stomach problems.

I arrived at the four wheel drive parking area at 4:35, satisfied that I was making excellent progress, especially with how I was feeling. I was not getting any better or worse, so I just decided to keep pressing on. First, I had to turn left and cross Baldwin Creek via some slippery fresh-snow-covered stepping stones. After this the road got a little rougher and steeper. Then, before long, I began getting into some deep snow. I had read recent reports of some wallowing in the snow around 11,200 feet. This is where my early start first became worth it. The snow was mostly solid, and my main problem was stumbling in the asymmetrical holes left by previous snowshoe-ers. Still, the snow was not perfect, and I too spent some time post-holing along this section of road.

As I neared the high timberline at 12,000 feet, the sky was getting light enough that I was able to stash my headlamp. To my left, the upper slopes of Mount Antero materialized, and to my right I could see Cronin Peak and 13,520-foot Boulder Mountain.

My stomach was not getting any better, but I quickly forgot how I was feeling as the sun started to light up the surrounding sea of peaks. I smiled. I was here again, enjoying the great outdoors, experiencing one of those moments that you have to experience yourself to truly appreciate. Those are the moments when I remember why I do it. Why I commit myself to suffering and the harsh elements of the outdoors, while others are sleeping or doing something more “relaxing” to enjoy their time away from work. It is not worth trying to explain, but I will say it is worth experiencing. Call me crazy or over-dramatic or what-have-you, I call it worthwhile.

As I broke timberline, a perfect chute of snow appeared cutting straight up through the heart of numerous road switch-backs. Enjoying the simplicity and the directness of this option, I found myself quickly gaining altitude on the solid snow.

After reaching the top of this snow slope, around 12,900 feet, I continued following a steep talus-strewn ridge upward to about 13,600 feet. I slowed down considerably during this time, partially because I was getting tired, and in part because I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the early morning sun-bathed scenery. Near the top of these slopes, I caught a trail which contoured directly to the saddle in front of my first goal for the day: Mount Antero.

At the saddle before the summit ridge, I was somewhat surprised to find numerous rock towers appearing to block easy passage. Of course, a trail led to and fro, negotiating the cliffs quite nicely. After getting past this section, I had one final slope to the top.

As I climbed the final 500 vertical feet, alternating between snow and talus, I began to notice that familiar feeling: a state of dizziness and light-headedness took over, and my pace slowed. This final section was steep, but I was relieved to find no “false summits” as I crested the highest point. Arriving at the snow capped summit at 8:40, I still had all day to enjoy the beauty of this sea of mountains in which I was immersed.

The views from the summit of Mount Antero were surprisingly worthwhile. Mount Princeton and other collegiate fourteeners rose impressively to the north and northwest. The snow-striped bulks of Mount Shavano and Tabeguache Peak rose to the south, and Cronin Peak dominated the view to the west.

Cronin Peak, formerly nicknamed “North Carbonate Peak,” received it’s new and official name in May 2005. It is named in honor of Mary Cronin, who became the first woman to climb all of the known fourteeners in Colorado in 1921. Connected to Mount Antero by a two-mile U-shaped ridge and glacial cirque, this mountain stood as my next climbing objective for the day. But first, I had to lose a lot of the elevation I had just gained.

Mount Antero is primarily known for its precious gems, and its slopes are therefore heavily mined and visited. The mining roads go all the way to 13,700 feet, and are a popular destination for four-wheeling enthusiasts and gem seekers alike. I passed numerous existing mining claims as I descended the south slopes of Mount Antero, and spent much of my time looking at the different colored rocks I was walking on. I did not know what to be looking for exactly, but I did find a colorful variety of rocks: green, black, brown, red, gray, white, orange, and many shades in-between.

The weather was no concern, as early morning clouds and wind were nothing more than a nuisance. I took my time and enjoyed the scenery. Near the 12,900 foot saddle, I stopped to eat a sandwich and preview my route for Cronin Peak. My nausea would not go away, but it was not getting any worse either. Nevertheless, the sandwich provided me with some energy, which I would need for the remaining one thousand vertical feet to Cronin Peak’s summit.

Most of the ascent of Cronin Peak’s southeast ridge was a straight-forward snow climb. The middle section was the steepest, and I found myself slowing down a lot. Near the top, I bypassed some ugly cornices and followed the dry talus to the final summit cone. Here, I had to climb up over a small headwall of snow, and on the other side I found myself at the summit register. Relieved, I sat down to catch my breath and relax for a few moments. I signed the register, which had not been signed since last October, and for the thousandth time I admired the scenery all around me. I had arrived at this solitary summit at 11:45, three hours after leaving the top of Mount Antero.

To this point in my day, I had had no surprises. Everything had gone to plan, except for feeling ill of course. Surprisingly, the most difficult part of my day would be after leaving the summit of Cronin Peak. I descended the north ridge, and immediately ran into some problems. The first five hundred feet from the summit were steep, icy and dicey. To avoid the snow on the ridge crest only met sliding in some dangerously loose scree on the west slopes. Not having my crampons or ice axe with me, I alternated between the two undesirable options, and took my time paying careful attention to my footing. Still, on more than one occasion I slid onto my back because of the ice.

Thankfully, the angle and snow on the ridge relented more and more the lower I went. The weather was getting a little more annoying, with wind and falling snow flakes joining the difficulties of this initial descent, but I began to appreciate the cool air as I returned to the warmer climate below 12,500 feet. Across from me, near the lowest saddle before Point 12,591, I noticed three billy goats enjoying the thin air. What a life!

Before reaching this lowest saddle, I decided I had had enough of following the ridge. Testing the upper snow on the east slopes, I quickly learned the conditions were perfect for glissading. Then, it was only a matter of sliding 500 feet down to timberline.

And then what? I did not want to go back into the trees, because the snow there was anything but solid. I have spent enough time in the past wallowing around in waist-deep snow below timberline to know that there were more desirable options.

Still, there were no easy options at this point. I turned due north and started contouring the steep talus-strewn slopes just above timberline. The snow was only patchy here, but definitely not solid. Several times I was forced to post-hole and wallow my way across an area of snow to return to dry ground.

The farther I contoured, the uglier the terrain got. Before I knew it, I was forced lower because of huge cliffs and steep fields of talus. Eventually, I was more or less forced into crossing the creek and heading into the snowy trees I had been trying to avoid. There, I had to cross a couple more small ravines, filled with deep wet snow. I gave up on trying to avoid the inevitable post-holing, and I tromped and wallowed my way east through the trees.

Sure enough, I eventually came out to the Baldwin Gulch four wheel drive road I had ascended in the dark. Unfortunately, the conditions were not much better here. I continued post-holing and stumbling in the deep and wet snow, all the way down to the four wheel drive trailhead. At least now I was making steady progress in the right direction.

By the time I crossed the creek and arrived at the four wheel drive trailhead, I was soaked because of the wet snow. I stopped to make gear adjustments and take one last look at Mount Antero and Cronin Peak. The sun was shining now, and the green of spring brightened the mountains from this lower perspective.

Then, after securing the pack and all my gear, I descended the last two and a half miles in forty five minutes. I arrived back at my jeep at three in the afternoon, twelve hours from when I had left it. It had been a pleasant day enjoying God’s creation, perhaps the biggest surprise being the solitude I experienced. In another month, I am sure this area will be buzzing with activity, but I was glad that was not the case on this spectacular spring day.

Images

View Mount Antero and Cronin Peak Image Gallery - 12 Images