Thunder Pyramid shares the same red, rugged, and rotten ridgeline as its big fourteener brother Pyramid Peak. Thunder sits 1/2 mile SW amongst the shadows of Pyramid Peak. It is 68 feet short of the 14,000-ft benchmark, yet this reclusive mountain still falls into the Centennial Group (Colorado's highest 100).There’s very little beta covering this mountain as there are no designated trails or cairns leading up either side of the peak. From what I’ve gathered the peak is lucky to see more than a dozen or so visitors in the summer climbing months. It’s regarded as one of the most dangerous climbs due to the crumbling and unstable rock along its 3,000’ west face.
The Pyramid Peak Massif splits the popular West Maroon Creek Valley from the very unpopular East Maroon Creek Valley. The Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness is filled with interesting and unique geology making for some of Colorado’s most beautiful and inspiring landscape. Thunder Pyramid’s red, rugged and rotten rock is sedimentary rock from the Permian Age. This rock is what makes the area really pop with color, which in turn is bad for climbing but gorgeous to look at.
For the past several years I’ve had the Pyramid massif on my “to-do” list. Something about this stretch of mountains really inspires me to the point of obsession. After climbing and skiing Pyramid Peak last April, I came to the realization that the terrain along this stretch of peaks is some of the most difficult, technical, and dangerous terrain in Colorado. Hands down. The Pyramid massif is chock full of large cliff bands, knife-edge ridgelines, consistent 50 degree pitches that extend for thousands of feet, large teetering talus blocks, and lots and lots of exposure. Reaching a summit along this stretch is like leading the blind through a complex maze. There’s always a new challenge around the next cliff band or spine.
After standing atop Pyramid peak I couldn’t help but notice the amazing ski potential on Thunder Pyramid. Both the east and west faces are riddled with technical lines. A summit descent looked impossible when I gazed over at it last April. There was just too much to take into consideration. Snow conditions, avalanche danger, blind cliff bands, loose rock, difficult approach, route finding, etc. However, there was this little glimmer of hope in the back of my mind that this peak could be skied.
Much like its neighbor Pyramid Peak, Thunder has a very limited window of opportunity due to snow coverage, snow safety, and weather. Nailing that window of opportunity is like throwing a dart blindfolded and hitting the bulls eye. After carefully watching the weather and snow pack over the course of the winter I felt the time was getting close. Working two jobs doesn’t make the matter any easier as time off is limited and the odds of getting that window of opportunity to line up with a day off was slim.
Mid-week I made the call to Andrew and the plan was set. Sunday would be the day. We decided to do the trip in a one-day push from the front range. The jitters began a couple of days before making sleep a very difficult task. I studied the photos and topo maps to the point where I had them etched in my brain.
I got 2 hours of sleep before the alarm clock buzzed in my ear at 12:30am. My wife had worked the late shift and got home one hour earlier and was still awake. After getting some crazy looks from her, I stumbled into the shower and began the day. I was on the road around 1am, on my way to meet Andrew in Frisco. The front range storm that brought 12 inches of snow, was winding down but the roads were still a mess. Once we got past Vail the roads were clear and the stars began to peer through the thin cloud cover of the nighttime sky.
Conversation was minimal as we were both focused on the day to come. We arrived in Aspen shortly after 5:30am and made our way up Maroon Creek Road to the closure at the Lazy T-Ranch. The air was still at the road closure and the temps were hovering just above the freezing point. Clouds were hanging around the upper peaks while the valley below was starlit and clear. We fired up the sled and drove the final 6.5 miles or so to the summer trailhead at Maroon Lake (9590’). Shortly after 6:30am we were skinning up the
summer trail along Maroon Creek.
The first few miles are super easy with a very gradual climb (1,000’ over 3 miles). We entered the narrow valley and skinned along the base of the Maroon Bells and the west aspect of Pyramid Peak.
We made good time and reached the base of Len`Shoemaker ridge sometime around 8:45am. We had a 1,000’ climb up to a bench followed by another 2,500’ climb up the west face of the peak. After a short break we pulled off our skins and began the steep and long climb.
The climb up the bench was a little tricky as there were some icefalls and closeout cliff bands to negotiate. We reached the base of the face and took a short break to check out the approach and go over our game plan for the final push Andrew was feeling fatigued and wasn’t sure how far he would make it. We slowed our pace and began the climb up the west face.
The views were absolutely stunning as I crested the first relief in the pitch and took a break on top of a rock band. Snow conditions were ideal for climbing as there was a nice 6” of new snow on top of a firm base. The sun hadn’t hit the face yet, so the snow was still fresh and relatively light. Across the valley moderate sized slides came roaring down the east and southeast slopes of the Maroon Bells. The bright sun and warm temps were doing a number on the easterly aspects, which became a concern since we would be dealing with similar conditions in a matter of a couple of hours. Time was of essence and so I kicked it into high gear and moved up the face swiftly.
Every ten minutes or so another slide would come cascading down the steep face of Maroon Peak. It now became a race against time to reach the top and make it down before the sun turned the face into a danger zone.
I was half-way up the face when the slope steepened to 50 degrees and the snow got deeper. Each step became more of a chore than the last. With each laboring step my mind and focused grew sharper to the point where my steps became automatic. The snow was a good 12” deep, yet it was welded to the underlying base. I felt confident in moving up the last pitch and decided to go for it. Andrew was a good 750’ below me and radioed up that he was done. I radioed back and told him I was going to make a go for the summit. He wished me luck and then perched himself up on a rock band and onto a safe zone.
15 steps, pause, 15 steps, pause, 15 steps, pause. I had a rhythm flowing and kept picking away at the final 500’ of vertical to the summit. At this point I began to get that feeling of accomplishment, but kept reminding myself that it wasn’t even close to being done. It was also at this point that I would finally see the summit and that it was covered in snow all the way. The goal was so close, yet so far away.
Fatigue set-in and my 15 step rhythm quickly became 5. I kept my focus on the few feet directly in front of me because I knew if I looked around I would be intimidated by the exposure and terrain. I knew what was below me and around me, but kept my mind focused on kicking steps. I glanced at my altimeter and it read 13,800’. Just a little over 100’. “Holy shit, I’m really gonna do this,” was the thought that kept running through my head. I worked hard to hold the emotions back as I knew a slip or loss of focus could result in something I didn't want to think about.
The final 100’ to the summit was the crux of the route. The summit block is a series of narrow ledges with a near vertical climb. The snow was deep along the knife-edged ridge, but I didn’t feel comfortable straddling it and dangling my legs over the 1,000’ drop on the east side. I stuck with the difficult climbing and slowed everything down to a crawl. I was literally 20’ from the summit and yet I felt I still had miles and miles to go. My stomach turned inside-out as I got my first glimpse of the ridgeline and the daunting east face. The airy summit block was my last obstacle. I kept positive and told myself over and over again that I could do it.
The rotten and unstable rock made the climbing rather interesting. Each handhold and foothold was a balancing act. There were no bomber holds. I pulled out several large talus blocks and sent them flying down the west face, which in turn started some minor sloughing. At 2:25pm I crested the final ledge and stood on the summit of Thunder Pyramid. A couple of tears of joy and excitement rolled down my cheeks as I stood there in silence for a good 5 minutes. The air was so still it created an eerie sort of mood. I pulled out my radio and relayed the news down to Andrew. I couldn’t believe that I was standing there. I was flooded with excitement, joy, and surprise. Again, I had to remind myself that the goal was only halfway accomplished. I still had to face the task of getting down this face safely.
Just before I began my descent, the most amazing glow cast over the Maroon Bells and surrounding peaks. It was almost like someone was giving me some sort of sign. The light was absolutely amazing.
After spending some time on the top I carefully made my way down the SW ridgeline to the entrance of the couloir.
The upper 150’ or so was thin, yet manageable. Once I reached the wider section of the face the snow was amazing. Knee deep powder on a steep and exposed face is typically saved for dreams. I skied it with some caution as I had a fair amount of sloughing going on. Once I reached Andrew the snow quality was beginning to deteriorate. The sun was hitting it pretty hard and the new snow had turned to glop. With each turn we were getting wet slough to move slowly down the slope with us. Luckily it was just slough and not a slab as we were in a vulnerable position on the face.
We didn’t waste much time getting down as the snow was getting more unstable by the minute. We moved from safe zone to safe zone before finally opening it up on the apron down to the bench. As I made my final turns down the apron I glanced back and shook my head in awe of what just went down. I skied down and met Andrew and high fives were exchanged. We had another 1,000’ of steep skiing before we were completely out of the woods. We picked our way down the lower face and entered the forest shortly after 3:45pm.
The ski out ended up being a slog due to the warm weather and unsupportable snow below tree line. Each stride would result in collapsing 1-2’ or tip diving and going over the handlebars. It was ugly. It took us a while to get back down to the sled as we had to switch back and forth from skins to ski-mode. We finally made it down to the sled and headed down the Maroon Creek road to the truck. By the time we made it back, the sun was beginning to set towards the west. Exhausted, we packed up in a hurry and made the long trek back to the front range.
As I type this I’m still in disbelief of what exactly went down. I don’t think it has entirely hit me yet. I feel lucky and very grateful for this opportunity. This will be something that I will always remember.
I’ve always had the mind set that any mountain can be skied and/or climbed. There’s no such thing as something being “impossible”. I stuck with that mantra and studied the various aspects of the peak for the next 11 months following my trip to Pyramid Peak. Finding beta on Thunder was hard to come by. Everyone that I had talked to didn’t have much to say except “good luck”. Most of the beta I found was vague and didn’t mention anything about a winter route, so the unknown came into play big time. I studied images of the peak from all aspects and spent countless hours looking over the topo quad wondering if a complete descent would be possible. I had friends and fellow maggots take photos from the top of Highlands bowl at various times over the course of the season to compare snow coverage and terrain features. I was lucky enough to get some great aerial photos of the peak from Lou Dawson which helped out tremendously. The drive and desire to ski this peak became front and center really quick.
