For me, I usually spend less time adventuring when snow begins to fall. This is not because I dislike snow, rather, I merely don’t have a lot of experience dealing with it. An REI gift card recently reminded me “adventure has no off season.” With this lovely adage in mind, I decided to try an ascent of Atlantic Peak: Colorado’s 87^th highest mountain summit. I knew conditions up high would be snowy and icy but not yet prone to avalanche activity. As I parked my car in the lower Mayflower Gulch trailhead, I could see the summit of Atlantic Peak rising high to the east.

Below the summit, the mountain’s prominent west ridge—the route I would be ascending—was easily discernible and did not hold as much snow as I had been anticipating.

On the trail, I hiked east along the rough jeep road that would lead hikers to the ruins of the Boston Mine.

The road passed below the surrounding pine trees, and in the chilly morning air, soon became icy and treacherous. As I neared the Boston Mine, I could see the summit of Pacific Peak between the saddle of Mayflower Hill and Atlantic Peak.

The trees began to thin and I knew I was nearing the entrance of the Mayflower Amphitheater. I passed by a gate, marking the terminus of the jeep road, and found what remained of the Boston Mine: three collapsing shacks and mining roads that lead further into the amphitheater.

Fletcher Peak and Drift Peak loomed over the vestiges of the old mining operation. After wandering around and taking pictures, it was time to continue with the ascent.

I headed north and post-holed through a flat section of snowy willows before beginning the steep, talus-ridden uphill to gain Atlantic Peak’s west ridge.

I began to encounter more serious snow along this section and opted to take a more direct approach to gain the ridge “crest”. I did so by advancing up a steep, difficult class 2 slope on the south side of the ridge, rather than following the standard route along Pacific Creek. A lofty view of Pacific Peak, now adorned with sunlight, came into view as I reached a long flat section of the ridge and reconnected with the standard route.

Snow and alpine grasses mingled at my feet as I continued and I could occasionally find sections of a small trail. As I gained altitude, the views began to sprawl. I could see the Mayflower Tailings Pond below Jacque Peak to the northwest, and a view of many peaks in the neighboring Sawatch Range to the southwest.

The way forward became snowier the higher I climbed, though I never found the need for additional traction.

Near the zenith of my adventure, I angled to the north, just below the ridge crest, and reached the summit push.

I cautiously worked around frozen, snow-covered talus, which was precariously placed on a moderate drop-off. The snow became knee-deep and the slope more gentle as I topped out. At the summit, the winds became a force to reckon with. The day had been moderately warm, but the gusts siphoned away any residual body heat. Quandary Peak—Colorado’s 13^th highest peak and a very popular 14er—lie just a mile and a half to the southeast.

I took in the views and relished in summit rapture. The obvious contours of Mt. of the Holy Cross prodded the sky twenty miles to the west, a reminder of the Overcast Adventurers Ecoregions trip.

Initially, I wanted to tag Pacific Peak while I was already up in the comforts of the alpine. I had intended to descend to the saddle between Pacific and Atlantic, climb Pacific, and return back over Atlantic. However, after progressing down to the saddle, I realized the additional 1000 feet of elevation gain would be a bit more than I felt suited for on this particular day.

I reascended the 500 feet back up to the summit of Atlantic, and began my descent of the west ridge. My brief detour had allowed me some time to practice my self arrest skills with my mountaineering axe, which was fun! Back on the ridge, new light graced the amphitheater as I arrived down low, making for a more interesting panorama.

I didn’t linger long to capture it, as my fatigue got the best of me. I post-holed circuitously back through the willows to find the road again, and slowly slipped my way back down to the lower trailhead.

Atlantic Peak had served as a reminder that snowfall shouldn’t be too large a hindrance on winter-style adventuring and that I definitely need to stay in shape for the upcoming cold season.

Until next time, my friends, stay adventurous!