From: ajs@hpfcdc.HP.COM (Alan Silverstein)
Date: Sun, 24 Jul 88 15:46:09 GMT
Subject: Re: Trip reports: Sangre de Cristos, San Juans
Newsgroups: hpnc.general

Thursday, July 7: Handies Peak, 14048'

I climbed Handies Peak in a July blizzard two years ago, two weeks later in the year. Considering the tremendous panoramic view of the San Juans reputed to be available from its summit, that was rather disappointing.

My return to Handies this summer made up for the earlier white-out -- and five or ten similar disappointments. It was, simply put, one of those experiences that makes Fourteener climbing worthwhile. Not the climb itself, tired and cold in the dark, but the splendor of sunrise and early morning on a gorgeous day in the high Rockies.

I left Ouray the day before at 1645, and turned onto the Engineer Pass road 4.8 miles south of town. The rest of the way was 4WD, a total of 15.0 miles up E toward (but not over) Engineer Pass (a nasty road through beautiful country), S to the ruins of the mining town of Animas Forks, E over Cinnamon Pass (12640'), down through lovely patches of forest to the American Basin turnoff, and 0.9 miles into it to the end of the road towards Handies Peak. I spent over three hours traversing this route slowly and enjoying it. A Gunnison Basin forest map or equivalent is essential; there is no longer a sign at Animas Forks pointing out the road to Cinnamon Pass. (It cuts left, uphill, well above town.)

There's a nice place to park and camp right at the end of the Handies road (a right fork continues) in American Basin. It's near the creek at 11600', in the middle of the broad, treeless, flower-filled basin, below the W flank of Handies. I was all alone. After assembling my daypack and soaking up sunset colors, I decked out on a tarp for the night.

Thursday morning at 0230 I forced myself awake. The week's adventures were taking their toll. I talked myself out of going back to sleep and doing a "normal" morning hike of the peak -- sure glad I got up! Not that the next several hours were much fun.

I started up the closed stretch of 4WD road at 0253, plodding along with a headlamp. There was a waning quarter moon, but I was in the mountain's shadow. After a while following the road S/SE past the peak, I reached a patch of hard snow and turned left up to the S ridge.

As usual, in the dark everything looked different and it was hard to get bearings. I hoped to come across the trail up the S ridge, but didn't find it until nearly at the summit. I hoofed up tundra and boulders, crossed a frozen creek, scrambled up steep loose rock on the SW ridgelet, and trudged the rest of the way on grass, dirt, and gravel to the top at 0520; 2:27 for 2450'. Beautiful and peaceful as it was, I was so sleepy I didn't enjoy the climbing much.

That over with, what a day it was! I spent five unforgettable hours on that high peak watching night become day, and what a pretty one. I was alone until 1000. I took pictures, built up the summit cairn (the only relief on a broad, flat, rock and dirt ridge), ate, and spent over an hour studying the horizon with binoculars -- after a slow, magnificent orange and pink sunrise at 0552. It was just as predicted by the "sun" program, about a minute earlier than the day before on Sneffels.

The view is unparalleled. There are literally uncountably many peaks and ridges in *every* direction. All the Fourteeners in the San Juans are visible, including San Luis just barely left of Sunshine. This particular morning was cool, clear, and breezy, with occasional gentle stratus clouds drifting slowly by from the SW, against an emerald blue sky. The Eolus group and the Needles twenty miles away to the S were crystal clear. The Grenadiers were tall twin pyramids of impossible symmetry. I could see Sneffels, and Cinnamon Pass, and the Horns and Uncompahgre N, and of course Redcloud and Sunshine E, and Rio Grande Pyramid S. I counted 30 identifiable Fourteeners, including Blanca Peak 115 miles SE.

The breadth, depth, and intensity of the early morning scenery, the vivid colors and slow motion, were overpowering. I sat several times with my eyes closed, listening, and each time was awed by the view when I opened them. Imagine, if you can, deep blue skies trending to bright at the horizons; soft rows of clouds inching above you; emerald green tundra on lower slopes; grey, blue, and even orange-red higher peaks and ridges; patches of pure white snow scattered among the jags; sounds of innumerable distant creeks all around and below; gold reflections of palisades on the thawed half of a frozen lake; long shadows cast through morning mists in the valleys. I stared and studied the view, but could not capture it in my memory in its full intensity, even at the time.

Soon before starting back at 1020, I saw an elk roam majestically over the saddle S of Handies.

I departed down the N ridge, a colorful journey. There's a trail down to the next saddle N, from which I dropped W quickly on scree. The hillside steepens into tundra and rocky gullies. I mainly stayed in the latter, downclimbing at points. Found lots of quartz veins and the old bones and teeth of a large animal. Rode down some snow at one point. I was back at the Jeep by 1145, a mere 1:25 off the summit.