7/1/07 – Truro Peak & "West Truro" – West Ridge & South Slopes, descent via West Ridge

4.7 miles, 3170'


Though we had just climbed the tallest thirteen-thousand-foot peak in the state, it was Truro Peak on Sunday that was the primary thrust for our weekend. Kane E. had visited a peak west of Independence Pass called "Tabor Peak" the weekend before. An image he took of the peak cradling Tabor Lake completely captivated me, and I knew I needed to visit some of these rugged 13ers on the western end of the Sawatch range. Kane and I have been acquaintances online for a few years, but we had never met in person. I sent him an email asking if he'd like to climb Truro, and he said he'd come along. Kane had been having problems with his truck, so he'd have to hike in from the highway. We'd try to meet Saturday evening at the Tabor Creek Trailhead, but should that fail, we'd meet at the saddle between "Tellurium Peak" and "West Truro" early Sunday morning. Erin and I had gone to Aspen to get some dinner, and as we drove back along the Lincoln Creek Road we stopped at the Tabor trailhead. I walked toward a group of cars when someone called my name from behind. It was Kane, and he had only arrived at the trailhead a minute earlier. Talk about impeccable timing! Erin drove the three of us deep into the valley where we had seen a nice pullout to spend the night. This spot was close to where we'd need to cross Lincoln Creek to access the Galena Creek drainage.

Erin and I had gotten little sleep the night before, so we immediately set upon getting the 4Runner prepared for car-camping. Kane found a site to pitch his tent, and then he went for a walk to take some evening photos and to search for a suitable creek crossing spot.

After a couple hours' repose, I heard this bizarre metallic plucking sound. It took a moment before it dawned on me that I may be hearing a marmot chewing on the car! I opened the door, but to my surprise, not a marmot but a rabbit bounded out from beneath the vehicle. I hadn't heard of rabbits munching on cars' undercarriages before, but their "nasty, big, pointy teeth" would be equally effective wreaking havoc on our vehicle's innards. The fell beast tried to hide behind a tree, so I slipped on my shoes and came after it with a rock. If only I knew then the trouble he'd be for much of the night, I might have actually tried to hit him instead of just scare him! I crawled back into the car with my aural senses now utterly paranoid, ears pricking up for the slightest of sounds.

As the evening's light dimmed, the little shit returned for more. With my headlamp, I looked around but didn't see anything dashing away. I hung upside down to take a look under the car, and there he was sitting next to the wheel, glaring at me, eyes ablaze with the reflection from my lamp. I chucked another rock at him, but he came back a few minutes later. This time Erin tried spraying bug spray around and under the car, but a little DEET did nothing to deter him from his feast upon our car's wiring. It was gonna be a long night! Late in the morning, I tried hanging a lit headlamp from the car window. Whether this actually worked or the bunny had finally had his fill, I don't know, but he didn't return.

I was already awake when Kane came by at 5:00. He had had a rough night with the rabbit, as well, beginning with when it toppled his pot and pan from dinner. I got ready while we discussed the creek crossing. He had seen the same that I had when I briefly scouted around the day before – that there was no spot to cross without getting wet. Fortunately, Erin had her Crocs with her, so she strapped them to her pack before we started off. We crossed at a wide spot along Lincoln Creek where the water came up to about mid-calf. After punching through some willows, we had to cross Galena Creek as well to access a slope that's cleary been ravaged by avalanches. Kane vaulted across Galena while Erin and I crossed a little higher using some slippery rocks. Amidst the avalanche debris, we found a trail that quickly led us up the slope and into an idyllic forest at the entrance of the upper valley. Here we crossed Galena yet again to begin our ascent to the Truro/West Truro saddle.

The slope was steep, sometimes loose, and more strenuous than I was expecting. I suppose I thought it would be shorter, but it's an honest 1200' from where we left Galena Creek to the saddle. Once there, we had finally reached the portion of our weekend we had been anticipating most: the 450' scramble up to Truro's summit. As we climbed, we peered down to Truro Lake, which I plan to visit en route to UN 13,090 someday; I'm sure it will be magnificent! Kane led the charge during the scramble, and Erin and I appreciated that he assumed route-finding duties. This was our first time climbing on consecutive days in over a year, so we didn't have much extra energy to explore potential routes. We reached the summit swiftly, a pleasant reminder of how quickly the vertical feet pass you by as you scramble. The views were splendid in all directions from our sentinel's apex. We gawked at the Williams Mountains while Kane recalled that subrange's delights, and we gazed deep into the Elk Mountains. Closer by, we surveyed Anderson Peak's ragged north face.

After our relaxed summit stay, we returned to the saddle. While I was lagging behind, Kane and Erin discussed the next section of our route. Kane was intent on trying to make a traverse high on West Truro's south face. When I heard the plan, I stubbornly insisted to my wife that we descend to hundreds of feet to the basin and then hike to the Tellurium/West Truro saddle. We were perhaps one- or two-hundred feet below Kane when we saw that he was making quick and easy progress, so we belatedly determined to follow him. Once we reached the crest of a rocky rib where we had last seen Kane, the view was disheartening. A loose gully cut between us and the next rib where he now stood. It didn't end up being that bad – it reminded me of some spots on Teakettle – but I was running out of gas and wasn't sure how many more obstacles I could surmount. As we crossed the gully, we were glad to hear Kane announce that he had reached West Truro's west ridge. Once on the next rock rib, we ascended it directly, scrambling on some questionable rock that was nevertheless far superior to the grungy scree right next to us. We topped out high on the west ridge, and all the hard work had paid off in spades. We were weren't even 200 feet from the summit! We arrived at our airy perch and were greeted by a fantastic perspective on Truro and a bird's-eye view of West Truro's treacherous east ridge.

Once we had overstayed our welcome, we began the descent. We were all looking forward to a relaxing hike down Galena Creek, and our anticipation for the floral display down-valley was whetted by the tenacious residents of our peak's upper heights. We followed the ridge crest most of the way, but we did come upon a step in the ridge that forced us into a loose gully. We were thankful that our route only required that we descend this loose pile! As we neared West Truro's saddle with Tellurium Peak, our attention turned towards the inspiration for our day, beautiful "Tabor Peak." I must admit, though, to being a little disappointed that we never could catch a look at sequestered Tabor Lake. After dropping further, we circled a charming tarn high in the basin before we turned to head east back to Lincoln Creek alongside Galena's headwaters. We chatted busily while basking underneath the Truros, which seemed to take a new form every few minutes.

Kane's GPS assisted us in finding our exact creek-crossing point, and though he tore directly across, Erin and I paused to remove our boots before crossing the delightfully chilly waters. In the morning, Kane had tossed Erin's Crocs across the creek to me, but this time Erin was feeling spunky even though she knows she can't throw. The first Croc barely ended up in my possession, and before I could protest, she was tossing the second. She threw a rainbow, and the shoe landed right in the middle of the creek. I had no chance to reach it before it was spirited away by the swift currents. I'd like to think that some fisher grabbed it down at the reservoir, but it's probably snagged on a willow somewhere. We got back to the 4Runner – it started, thank heavens – and Erin drove us down the bumpy road back to the highway. Before we did, though, we stopped for a shot of Truro towering over Grizzly Reservoir. As Kane rightly pointed out, it's this perspective that probably led to the peak being officially named, even while so many others in the area were overlooked. We dropped off Kane at a small lot on the highway, traded good-byes, and headed home... with the requisite visit to the Coyote Cantina along the way, of course.

Thanks again, Kane, for drawing my attention toward this rugged corner of the Sawatch. We look forward to a future trip!