Father Dyer Peak (13,615') and Crystal Peak (13,852') - Attempt

Seeing others out there enjoying couloir season was excruciating. It's my favorite time year, the two months when ice axes and crampons are actually useful in Colorado. I put it off as long as I could, but I finally couldn't take it anymore. My shoulder is healing quickly and the time had come to at least try a nice, mellow 30ish-degree climb.

I rounded up some partners at the 14ers.com happy hour and we were on our way to Breckenridge at 4:30 a.m. Sunday, May 4. The Dyer Straits route on Father Dyer Peak and Crystal Peak is rated a *Classic* in Gerry Roach's 13ers guidebook, with a few hundred feet of moderate snow-climbing in a gorgeous hanging amphitheater. It's been on my list for years.

Bill and Tony have joined me on countless adventures, and Shara, who's new to the state, would be attempting her first climb at altitude. It was a great crew for a leisurely day on a fun route.

We set off from the Spruce Gulch TH at 6:30 a.m. Bill and I started with snowshoes, but they were more hindrance than help on the extremely hard-packed snow. We felt comfortable ditching them after a quarter-mile. The forecast was for very warm temperatures and moderate wind, which seemed to hold true early in the day. We stripped down to T-shirts the minute the sun hit us and the wind was hardly noticeable below treeline.

T-shiiiiiiirt Tiiiiiiiime

The breeze picked up a bit as we emerged from treeline near Francie's Cabin, a luxurious backcountry abode maintained by Summit Huts. We were thankful for the wind at the time. It would keep the snow from heating up and dry the sweat-bullets that dripped from our brows. Occasional strong gusts were annoying, but if that's all we would have to deal with, it was destined to be a fantastic day.

We followed a solid ski track to keep from sinking into the snow and made steady progress to the lefthand turnoff just south of Lower Crystal Lake. Into the hanging basin we climbed, connecting patches of dry ground and ankle-deep snow. The Dyer Straits finally came into view as we rounded a corner, which should have been an exciting moment. Instead, our hopes were sapped.

Father Dyer (center) and Crystal (right)

Heading into the hanging basin

Dyer Straits

Spindrift -- swirling tornadoes of loose snow -- danced along our entire route. The gusts were moving several inches of powder onto our line, stacking it on top of the firm spring layer and increasing the avalanche danger. To add insult to misery, the wind chose this moment to really start kicking. It slammed us in bursts up to 40 miles per hour, occasionally knocking us off balance. Still, if we could claw (literally) our way up to the ridge, there was a chance we'd reach a windblock and calmer conditions.

Tony and I set off in front, hugging the extreme lefthand slope of the Dyer Straits, which appeared shallower and safer. By connecting rock islands and staying on firm snow we managed to avoid significant avalanche danger. Still, we didn't spend much time dallying, making as quick a sprint as we could for the safety of the ridgeline. Our hopes were dashed again when we reached it. The wind had built to a sustained 25-30 miles per hour, with gusts to 45 or 50. Worse, it wasn't coming from any one direction. The swirling wind meant a windblock would be unlikely, and we'd be exposed to it for another couple hours as we traversed ridgelines to Father Dyer and Crystal. After a short discussion, Tony and I decided to head down.

Conditions continued to deteriorate. We were hit several times by spindrift so intense that they were basically miniature 10-second whiteouts. All we could do was slam our axes into the snow and hunker over them, waiting for the bastard to pass.

Looking down from near the top of the Straits

Retreating from the wind

Back on safer ground, the wind continued to prevent much of a break. We opted to high-tail it down to try and find a more pleasant resting place. That didn't come until we came upon the ruins of an old mining cabin at Lower Crystal Lake. Even hunkered behind this supposed shelter, it was an unpleasant stop. The one good thing the wind did for us was keep the surface layer of the snow firm. We were able to make a hasty retreat to treeline without any postholing. That's a rare treat on a spring afternoon, especially sans snowshoes.

The attempt was technically a failure, but none of us saw it that way. Shara shattered her old altitude record, reaching about 13,200' for the first time in her life. Tony and I did in fact climb the Dyer Straits route to the top, we just didn't go to the summit. Not to mention my shoulder felt great on moderate snow with almost no pain or discomfort. Finally, Bill and I got the workouts we both desperately needed as we whip ourselves back into shape after winter injuries. Summit or no, I'd call that a successful day.