Huron Peak

PEAK: Huron Peak (N Ridge)
DATE: 9/12/91
TEAM: Mark R. Vanderbrook

I arrived in Johnson Village Wednesday afternoon, and checked into my room at the Alpine Lodge. After an unimpressive dinner at Jan’s in Buena Vista, I returned to my room, and hit the sack.
I was up at 4:00 Thursday morning, and by 5:00 I was pulling out of town. The drive to the trailhead was quite familiar, as I had attempted the climb once before, in July. Fifteen miles north on US 24, I swung west onto the dirt road to Winfield. The distant flashes of lightning in the still-dark western sky did not bode well for the day’s weather.
By about 5:45, I was cautiously pulling my truck off the road, a quarter-mile south of the old ghost town. It was still quite dark, so I waited until 6:00, when I strapped on my headlamp, shouldered my pack, and started up the jeep trail to the old ghost town of Hamilton. Following the route suggested in my guidebook, I had started the abortive July attempt on the peak from the Hamilton area, only to become disenchanted with the rockpile on the peak’s southwestern slope. “Tiresome chiprock,” Ormes would have warned me. It was steep and loose, and navigating two-thousand feet of it at the snail’s pace it demanded was beyond my patience. For this second attempt, I would utilize my own route up the peak’s northeastern ridge.
One-half mile up the trail, I took a left and started hiking up the jeep trail along the west side of Lulu Gulch. After switchbacking to 11,393 feet, the trail split, one branch contouring to the south around the northwest ridge of Browns Peak, and the other climbing to the east, across the gulch and onto the 12,622-foot sub-peak to the northwest of Middle Mountain. My route followed the eastern branch.
After the first switchback beyond the Lulu Gulch crossing, the jeep trail became a foot trail. Climbing onto Middle Mountain’s northwestern sub-peak, I stood atop the northwestern terminus of a system of ridges which extended two miles to the south, to Huron Peak, and one and one-half miles beyond, to its intersection with the Continental Divide.
From the sub-peak, I climbed across Middle Mountain’s southwestern slope, into the saddle south of the peak. I was rewarded with stunning views of Missouri Mountain and its lofty neighbors to the southeast, and glimpses of La Plata Peak, with a fresh dusting of snow, to the north. Although some of the early-morning clouds had given way to blue sky, the clouds appeared to be consolidating. I noticed little vertical development, however, and guessed that I might have time to make Huron’s summit before the rain started.
From the saddle, I set off, sidehilling again, heading for the saddle east-northeast of Browns Peak. Here and there, I found sketchy hints of a trail across the grassy slopes, and small patches of fresh snow among the tundra vegetation. Having seen no other hikers since starting my climb, I wondered whether I had the peak to myself, until I heard voices from below me as I gained this second saddle. After a long look, I finally spotted a threesome working their way up the basin.
From this second saddle, I contoured around the southeastern slopes of Browns Peak, then started across the easy ridge from Browns south to Huron’s 13,518-foot, northern sub-peak. Once across the ridge, I contoured around the western slopes of this sub-peak, then huffed-and-puffed up the last 600 steep feet on the north side of Huron’s summit block. As I did so, I was overtaken by another climber who, with his canine companion, was making about double my speed toward the summit. Huron was “number 43” for him - on his third trip through! He had started his two-hour climb from Clohesy Lake, at 10,968 feet and little more than one and one-half miles east of the summit. Before I made the top, he had signed the register, and was starting down, eager to “bag” Missouri Mountain before the afternoon rainshowers hit. Who has this mountain maniac, anyway? The only clue was the register, which he had signed as “E.C.”.
At 11:45, I stood atop Huron, and gazed from peak to peak: Harvard, Belford and Oxford, Missouri, The Three Apostles, La Plata. I took one of my multi-exposure panoramas, took a self-portrait, signed the register (“#10”) and had a quick snack before starting down. The clouds had vanquished the mid-morning patches of blue sky, and I wanted to be off the ridges and descending toward treeline before the precipitation started. At 12:00, I set off.
I retraced my ascent route on the trip down. Ten minutes from the top, I met the threesome I had spotted from Browns’ east-northeast saddle, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries. I advised them against descending Huron’s southwestern slopes, and we wished each other happy trails.
The descent was uneventful, until the hail, ice pellets and snow pellets started at about 3:00. I had begun descending the jeep trail into Lulu Gulch, and was enjoying a brief rest stop at about 11,900 feet when it started. In a futile effort to make it stop, I immediately donned my rain jacket, and started down again. As I descended, the snow pellets gradually changed to rain, and it continued to rain until I was perhaps five minutes from my truck. When I finally unlocked the cab and dragged my slightly soggy self inside, the clock read 4:15, and the sun was setting fire to the brightly-colored stands of aspen on either side of the valley. Although my first attempt on the peak had been disagreeable, I rather enjoyed this climb: the peak was more photogenic from my north ridge route, and the hiking was far more pleasant.

Warning:

Mountain climbing entails certain risks and can be a dangerous activity. Many Colorado peaks have seen climbing fatalities. The most common factors in mountaineering accidents are poor judgement, inadequate physical conditioning and improper equipment. When faced with bad weather, fatigue or terrain that may be beyond your abilities, turn back. The mountain will still be there when you’re stronger, more experienced or better-equipped for another attempt. And remember: the summit is only the halfway point. Many accidents occur while a party is descending from the summit.

If you climb, do not rely solely on the information contained herein. Do not assume that the route descriptions are completely accurate. The route descriptions were written after-the-fact from memory, and human memory is fallible. In addition, many factors (especially weather) can cause a route that is normally a “walk-up” to become a serious, hazardous proposition. Thoroughly research your route, have appropriate equipment, anticipate sudden and drastic changes in alpine weather, and know your abilities and limitations. Seek professional instruction before climbing, and build your climbing skills gradually: climb several easier peaks before attempting a more difficult route. Don’t become a statistic!