An old friend of ours raced us through the streets of Durango with skis strapped to the top of the car. We woke up late and were rushing to catch the narrow gauge Durango to Silverton Train. It was a special day because it was the first time that the train would make a stop at Needleton for the year. It was early May and a few other skiers and a group of rafters were also eager to get a ride into the wild. Needleton is a drop off point for people who want to explore the Weminuche Wilderness with Chicago Basin nearby and also to get access to the wild Animas River. The narrow gauge tracks follow the Animas river north towards Silverton through a steep beautiful canyon. This canyon has had its share of limelight with the filming of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid along with other movies back in the day. It’s easy to see why when you get the chance to take the ride and see the dramatic backdrop for any kind of adventure.  

 Jumping on the train in the nick of time we were able to get inside and snag a little shelter from the rain. The train gained momentum and climbed higher in elevation and the rain only became heavier. The river was rushing due to the recent snowmelt and the current downpour. I couldn’t imagine taking on those rapids as some of our fellow passenger rafters were about to do. While riding on the train my mind wandered and anticipated what we were about to encounter out there in the mountains. I wasn’t quite sure but I felt the anxiety of a new adventure. The weather just added to this already unnerving yet excited feeling. How was I going to stay dry while transitioning from hiking to skinning up the trail? How and where were we going to also set up shelter and dig in a kitchen. What if something happens that we aren’t prepared for? I was stuck in the limbic system of my brain where our worries and emotional reactions live. I tend to be pretty good at hanging out there. At a mythic level I am made up as an emotional human being with my basic/progressive archetypes consisting of airy and watery signs.

Just over two hours had passed and we finally came to a temporary halt so everyone getting off could grab their gear. Skis, rafts, packs and boots were passed down a fire line that we configured with our new fellow adventurers. People were snapping pictures, some were carrying stuff all the while the pandemonium was directed by one of the conductors. The black-steeled machine fired back up and left us in its cloud of steam. There we were about 9 miles or so from the closest trailhead and about to hike/ski in another 6 miles. All we had to do was hike with our skis, boots and packs strapped to our back then hopefully put skis on when we hit the snowline. While hiking we played leapfrog with a group of skiers that were with Powder Magazine. They camped lower in the basin so we decided to take our chances and head a little further up to have some space.

 Within Chicago Basin there are 3 (technically 4) peaks over 14,000 ft. nearby. Our plan was to spend the next few days skiing those mountains while hoping the weather gods/goddesses would cooperate.

Right out of camp the skin route climbed considerable elevation, about 1,400 ft to the next bench near Twin Lakes. From there you were set up to for an assault on any one of the 14ers. The first day it was still pretty overcast and a little snow was coming in and out. I think that day we gave Sunlight a try. We were able to summit through taking advantage of windows of visibility and the snow was somewhat stable. The weather pattern we were currently experiencing was a bit warm but still cold enough to produce heavy denser snow more typical of spring time. We wiggled down Sunlight then I headed back to camp. I felt exhausted after the long wet walk from the day before and my body was adjusting to the new environment. Sometimes I wish I could immediately adapt to my new surroundings but it always takes me awhile and I have been told it’s been with me since I was a kid. (Its funny when I guide clients backpacking because they describe how they struggle adjusting to the new environment and the uneasiness they feel. I confidently reassure them that everything is just great and everything will be okay even if I’m worried too. That came up often when guiding in Grizzly Bear country with the threat of being lower on the food chain.) There in this particular area of the San Juans I felt fatigued and ready to get horizontal for a nap.

 One of the best parts of the whole week was skiing from the Twin Lakes bench down to camp where one of the best lines was. I named it the creek couloir. Skiing down that zone you followed Needle creek and there was a point where we would zip across on the tiny, slender patch of snow dubbed the creek couloir. It behooves me how sometimes the most fun occurs in mellow terrain where the consequences can be just as dire but in a different context. If you were to not successfully ski the patch the consequence would be going in the drink and getting wet.

As the week progressed the weather became more stable and I was also becoming comfortable with the space. The next day we went to Windom Pk. It’s a beautiful mountain with an incredible view. From the summit you look down into the basin and into the distance with the San Juan Mountains jutting up every which way you turn your head. It also had these beautiful summit blocks that made for good observation points. My buddy was kind enough to join me on the summit for his second round up there, this day the view was much better though. We each chose our own way down and got to sign the mountain like an artist signs a canvas. Big brush strokes down to meticulous curves. The snow was great and I remember feeling proud after that line, nothing crazy just a lot of effort and great turns. We were invited that night down to happy hour with our companions down the basin. We drank vodka mixed with tang and Black Velvet whiskey, it was pretty classy up there in Chicago Basin. I enjoyed hearing about their experiences skiing around the area and what lines they chose. Even cooler was a few months later an article came out in Powder Magazine and I saw myself in one of the pictures when we were all unloading the train. Those guys were taking off the next day so we bid them a farewell and they promised to leave us a beer in the Animus River.

On our final ski day we awoke to blue skies and started off early. Our goal was to ski Mt. Eolus. It was definitely the most intimidating line of them all in the area. The couloir shot was pretty vertical with a steady pitch of 45 degrees. It was the line I looked at in the guidebook before leaving that had me a hair uneasy. As we approached the base of the couloir there was already snow shedding from the snowfield above so heading up we tried to hurry. Hang fire was coming down on us so our pace increased and we made it up without any big interruptions. After taking in one last view from a summit in the basin we pumped each other up before skiing this line.  The cool thing was this was the 7th 14er and our last one of the trip so exposure or the pitch of the line didn’t bother me too much. I had become a little more immune or used to it. I reached a certain level of comfort in the discomfort I would usually feel. It’s cool when you gain that momentum in different parts of your life. We carefully skied it one by one allowing each other some space in case the snow wanted to slide along with us. Each jump turn would drop me a few feet down the mountain from the one before. I felt the pitch for sure but the couloir had a great run out without many worries below. Basically if you fell you would slide fast but wouldn’t hit any cliff bands below. After that couloir we traversed across and skied another tight slot below North Eolus and Glacier point.

One thing to always remember is to never let your guard down. This next shot was a little suspect due to the snow that had accumulated in the last few days and the recent warm weather. I dropped in and made a ski cut across the top by turning hard and then traversing to the edge of the line. Nothing moved so I took a few more turns and then it went. This time the snow wanted to move with me. I was able to hang on as the top layer decided to shed in the afternoon warmth. The snow slid slowly as wet avalanches tend to do. This was the second avalanche I experienced that spring with one prior happening just outside of Ophir. Good thing it wasn’t a big deal and it didn’t take me for a ride.  

 We had one last ski down towards camp and one last pass across the creek couloir. Like at the end of any good ski trip I was psyched about what I just experienced, the skiing, the companionship and the awe-inspiring mountains. I also felt excited that the next day we were headed down to the oxygenated lower elevations. With the feeling of joy there is also a bit of sorrow. I had just had an amazing time. I had over come fear multiple times and persevered through the thin oxygen while feeling tired. We skied three 14ers in just three days while having a long wet approach and camping in the snow. I had always dreamed of doing something like this since I was a little kid. To be able to find a partner and for the conditions to line up just right doesn’t always happen all at the same time. Spending quality time with a good old friend is pretty special in the mountains. On that note we celebrated with a little nip of Black Velvet and the remaining bacon before tucking in for our last night in the tent.

 While hiking out to the train the next day I took my time. I reflected on this trip and how amazing the past few weeks had been up in the San Juan Mountains. They are beautiful along with all of the experiences one could have in them. There is something pretty special about that part of Colorado that always calls me back. I thought about how fortunate I was to have just had one of the most amazing spring times. Everything seemed how to have work out in some shape or form. In just three weeks we skied seven 14ers, with lots of early morning alpine starts and enjoyed plenty of laughs while celebrating the gift of being alive. I had pushed myself mentally & physically and come out happy and satisfied on the other end. I felt accomplished in so many ways.

The sun was blazing and the air became thicker as we descended.  After collecting a tick along the way and a bunch of dust it made the beer that was left for us in the river taste that much better. My buddy did the special wave so that the train heading for Durango would stop for us. We bellied up to the bar on one of the cars and celebrated with a cold Budweiser. The train stopped on one of the bridges crossing the Animus River to let out some steam. It was a release of pressure, just like the one I was feeling as I took in the warm sun and canyon views.

• Learn about the author and a story from the past:

  My False Summit