There aren't too many truly remote wilderness experiences left in Colorado. Places you can go and not see another soul for days. If any do remain, the San Juan Mountains are likely where they'll be found. Situated in the southwest corner of the state, far from the Denver metro, these mountains still hold some of Colorado's best kept backcountry secrets.
This trip report highlights my experience venturing deep into the San Juans to an area called Chicago Basin. Surrounded by four rugged 14er peaks and a handful of others over 13,000 feet, Chicago Basin is a popular backcountry destination. Scores of backpackers, hikers, and mountaineers visit Chicago Basin every year to climb the peaks, enjoy the scenery, and heckle the mountain goats.
Despite its popularity, the basin nevertheless sits within the Weminuche Wilderness, the largest—and probably most remote—wilderness in the state. Getting to Chicago Basin is therefore not trivial, as the nearest vehicle-accessible trailhead is some 15 miles away (by foot). The easiest way to reach the basin is actually by train, and that still only gets you to within 6 miles. The rest you must do on foot. Whatever method of approach you choose, you're sure to be treated to a unique Colorado alpine adventure.
DAY 1 – ANTICIPATION
I had been eyeing the Chicago Basin area for many years. My buddies and I, in our quest to climb all 53 of Colorado's 14ers, knew we would eventually need to conquer this beast. In spring of 2019, we finally decided to pull the trigger and purchase tickets to ride the historic Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad later that summer. From May to October, this railroad runs several trains daily from Durango to Silverton and back (90 miles roundtrip). The 45-mile route follows the scenic Animas River through the heart of the Needle Mountains, a steep, rugged subrange of the San Juans. About 31 miles north of Durango is the Needleton Stop. This is the access point for Chicago Basin. One of the trains stops here each day to drop off and pick up hikers and backpackers.
Very early on the morning of Thursday, August 1, myself and two friends, Mike and Matt, made the 3.5-hour drive from Grand Junction down to Durango. I was going off 30 minutes of sleep and knew I was in for a long day. We arrived at the train depot, loaded our backpacks into the luggage car, and grabbed our seats aboard the 8:45am northbound train (Photos 1 & 2). We were joined by perhaps 30–40 other backpackers, along with dozens of tourists and sightseers on their way to Silverton.
For the first 16 miles, the train parallels US 550 on its journey north, crossing the road twice. It then leaves the highway and turns east toward the Animas River. Near mile 17, the tracks round a corner back to the north and enter a river gorge where they skirt along steep, cliffy ledges a few hundred feet above the river below (Photos 3–5).
After crossing a bridge at mile 19, the canyon widens and the tracks continue north along the broad river banks (Photos 6 & 7). The train reaches the Cascade Canyon Stop at mile 26 and then crosses another bridge. This stop is where the Purgatory Trail crosses the tracks on its way up the river toward Needleton. The Purgatory Trail is how you would approach Chicago Basin if you did not want to take the train. Near the bridge crossing, you also catch your first glimpse of the Needle Mountains to the northeast, of which 13ers Pigeon Peak and Turret Peak are most prominent (Photo 8).
Our train finally reached the Needleton Stop (mile 31.5) around 11:30am, about 2 hours 40 minutes after departure. We unloaded with most of the other hikers/backpackers, although some continued on the train for another 7 miles to the next stop. With so many people getting off the train and a 6-mile hike ahead of us (along with 2,800 feet of elevation gain), we didn't want to wait around too long. After strapping on our packs, we crossed the footbridge over the river and got a decent head start on most of the crowd (Photos 9 & 10).
From the river crossing, we followed the well-traveled trail south for about 0.8 miles until it reached a junction with the Purgatory Trail. The Needle Creek Trail begins there and we continued on it, soon after entering the Weminuche Wilderness (Photo 11). Over the next ~5 miles, the trail steadily ascended southeast and then east up the Needle Creek drainage toward Chicago Basin. We passed a few groups of hikers, and a few others passed us. Along the way, the trail crossed several large avalanche debris paths left over from the historic winter of 2018–19 (Photo 12).
As treeline neared further up the drainage, we were treated to fleeting glimpses of some of the high peaks surrounding Chicago Basin, shrouded in clouds (Photos 13 & 14). We made decent time and completed the 6-mile approach hike in under 4 hours, arriving at our intended camping area a little after 3:00pm. Although we beat most of the train crowd that day, many tents were already scattered throughout the lower basin from hiking parties who had arrived on previous days. Nevertheless, we were able to claim a fantastic camp spot close to the creek, at an elevation of about 11,000 feet (Photos 15–17).
After getting our tents set up and our packs organized for the next day, we relaxed and enjoyed a warm dinner (a freeze dried meal for me). There was a rather large herd of brazen mountain goats that liked to roam around the campsites, so we made sure to introduce ourselves (Photo 18). After dinner, I strolled up the trail a bit with my camera and captured a nice photo of Sunlight Peak, Windom Peak, and 13er Jupiter Mountain just before sunset (Photo 19).
DAY 2 – NO ONE'S GONNA DIE ON THIS TRIP
The next morning came quick. With four 14ers to summit and only two days to do it, and chances of afternoon thunderstorms each day, we knew we had to get an early start. After a decent night's sleep, our alarms went off around 3:30am on Friday. We ate a quick breakfast and were on the trail by 4:20am. The plan for that day was to first climb Sunlight Peak, the most difficult 14er in the group, followed by neighboring Windom Peak, the highest in the group. Total expected distance and elevation gain that day were 6.5 miles and 3,500 feet, respectively.
About 0.5 miles up the Needle Creek Trail from our campsite, we exited left onto a cutoff trail leading to Twin Lakes. We blasted up this trail another 1.2 miles to reach Twin Lakes at 12,500 feet. Our spirits and energy levels must have been high that morning, because that initial 1.6 miles and 1,500 feet of elevation gain took us just over an hour. It was nearly 5:30am and still quite dark, although twilight was already emerging in the eastern skies.
At the lakes, there is another trail junction. One goes west toward Mt. Eolus and North Eolus. The other turns east toward Sunlight Peak and Windom Peak. With Sunlight Peak our first objective that day, we turned east. The trail soon disappeared amidst the extensive snow cover and rocky terrain throughout this upper basin. However, an obvious boot track through the snow had been established by previous hikers. Occasional cairns also marked the way.
By 6:00am, beautiful alpenglow adorned the top of Mt. Eolus' eastern face (Photo 20). We carried on up the firm snowfields covering much of the basin, wearing crampons for traction. Just after sunrise, we found ourselves at 13,200 feet, near the end of the snowfield at the base of Sunlight Peak's south face (Photos 21 & 22). It was all scrambling and climbing the rest of the way. The vast majority of the rock from here to the summit was easy class 3 in difficulty. However, the climbing did get a little more challenging closer to the top.
During this climb, we were rewarded with stunning views of Windom Peak to the south (Photo 23) and Mt. Eolus out to the west (Photo 24). In addition, our route took us directly past Sunlight Spire (Photo 25), a 13,996-foot unranked peak that comes dangerously close to being an unranked 14er. I say "dangerously close" because the easiest way to the top requires 85 feet of class 5.7–5.10 climbing up the tall summit tower. That'll be a no from me, dawg!
We finally reached the summit of Sunlight Peak by 7:30am. However, the true summit (14,061 feet) sits atop a 10-foot-high, extremely exposed summit block (Photo 26). Getting up there requires one or two class 4 moves. Because of this, some folks consider Sunlight Peak to be the most difficult of all the Colorado 14ers. And many more would argue that this final move is perhaps the single-hardest move required to reach the summit of any 14er in the state. Of course, we didn't come this far just to admire it. You're either on the actual summit or you're not, it's that simple.
In full disclosure, none of us actually STOOD on the true summit that day. Successfully attempting such a feat would have surely been the highlight of our short mountaineering careers. It would have also required each of us to completely ignore any and all self-preservation instincts. That said, some climbers do stand on the summit (we observed someone from afar do it later that very day), and I suppose a summit handstand makes you King of the Weminuche!
All that aside, each of us did at least TOUCH the true summit. Matt went first and quickly (but carefully) scampered up the angled rocks to do a "summit push up" (Photo 27). Mike went next and "tapped the buzzer" (Photo 28). I suppose I had the advantage of going last and seeing how it should be climbed. So I just went for it and somehow managed to scoot my butt up onto the narrow summit (Photo 29). The video below also shows the perspective captured by my head-mounted GoPro.
The feeling of extreme exposure is certainly palpable from up there. A fall off the north side would be tragic — although it's not nearly as exposed as Pyramid Peak's west face (see the video in this trip report). But it was airy and a tad exhilarating, so I tried to savor the moment. The video and photos don't really do it justice.
Not wanting to tempt fate too long, I only sat up there for 30 seconds or so and then scooted back down. The easiest way up and down the summit block requires you to cross a small, exposed gap in the rocks. This is harder to do on the way down, as you basically have to hop downward 3–4 feet from one rock to another. It's really more of a mental hurdle than anything else. Even so, I crouched there pondering my life choices for a good 7 minutes (Photo 30) before finally taking the "leap" (successfully, of course). Wow, that was easy. What was I worried about? My GoPro was running the whole time, too, so I should've known I'd be fine. After all, the cameraman never dies! Anyway, Mike gave me a congratulatory low-five and nonchalantly proclaimed "no one's gonna die on this trip", perhaps my favorite quote of the day. Thankfully there was no ironic twist of fate later on!
Once off the summit block and back onto more solid ground, we took a short rest to refuel with food/water and capture our "official" summit sign photos (Photos 31 & 32). Astute observers will notice that the elevation written on our cardboard summit sign is two feet short of the current official summit elevation of 14,061 feet. No, Mike didn't screw it up. Instead, updates to the official summit elevations of most of the Colorado 14ers (and many other high peaks in the U.S.) were made starting in 2021 based on recent analysis of high-resolution lidar data. So, as of 2019, the elevation on the summit sign was correct.
After spending more than an hour up there, we began making our way back down the south face of the mountain around 8:45am (Photo 33). This involved downclimbing the fun class 3 rock we had ascended earlier (Photos 34 & 35). Windom Peak was now in our sights. Once off the rock, our goal was to stay as high as possible as we contoured across the snow-covered drainage between the two peaks. We ultimately had to drop down to 13,340 feet, meaning it would only be ~700 feet back up to the summit of Windom.
There was already a bootpack following the route up the north-facing slopes to Windom Peak's west ridge. We met up with the bootback by 10:00am and began our ascent of Windom. One up on the peak's west ridge, the views looking back toward Mount Eolus and North Eolus were exquisite (Photo 36).
A little over an hour later, we were on the summit of Windom Peak (14,089 feet). The route was only class 2, meaning that no actual climbing was required. However, the summit contains a large heap of block-shaped rocks and boulders (Photo 37), and technically the high point is atop one of those blocks. So, I suppose you do have to climb on top of it to gain the true summit (Photos 38–41). Anyhow, we spent about 45 minutes there and had a nice, relaxing lunch.
By Noon, we noticed that the building cumulus clouds off to the west were beginning to thicken in coverage and depth. Mike and I are trained meteorologists, and with a forecast calling for possible afternoon thunderstorms that day, we knew that it was time to start heading back to camp. After scurrying down the west ridge and back onto the snow in the basin below, we reached Twin Lakes by 1:20pm. By this time, the skies were beginning to darken as a thunderstorm was developing just a few miles to our southwest. The lakes would have been a nice midway point on our descent to take a nice long, leisurely break. However, given the approaching storm, we stopped for only ~10 minutes before we had to get moving again.
Continuing down the trail toward lower Chicago Basin (Photo 42), it begin to rain lightly. Thankfully, we were spared the brunt of the storm and it soon died off, although light, intermittent rain did persist most of the way back to camp. We officially made it back to camp at 2:30pm, making for a ~10 hour day with 6.7 miles of hiking/climbing and 3,750 feet of elevation gain. The two-day total was 13.1 miles and 6,600 feet.
As you can probably imagine, we were pretty wiped out after all that. I think we napped for a while that afternoon to the sound of distant rumbles of thunder. By 6:00pm, the weather finally cleared out, setting the stage for a pleasant evening. After a warm, calorie-dense meal of freeze-dried Mountain House deliciousness, I grabbed the camera again and went back up the trail to attempt another sunset photo. The scene was essentially the same as the evening before, with a view looking up the basin towards Sunlight Peak, Windom Peak, and Jupiter Mountain (Photo 43). I was hoping for better lightning conditions this time (i.e., lots of warm sunset colors), but those conditions never materialized.
As darkness approached, I returned to camp and prepared my pack for the next day. According to the general consensus in the 14er hiking community, Mount Eolus and North Eolus—although technically easier to climb than Sunlight Peak—are still no walk in the park. Both are class 3 climbs. So, with afternoon thunderstorms once again in the forecast for Saturday, we would need our rest and to be on top of our game if we expected to summit both peaks in a timely manner. Another pre-dawn start was looming, so we retired early that evening and were asleep by 9:00pm.
DAY 3 – STAY OFF THE TUNDRA PLEASE
Our alarms once more woke us around 3:30am. Welp, he we go again. Another day of 6+ miles and 3,000+ feet of elevation gain. Our bodies were certainly feeling it from the previous two days, although we were by no means depleted and confident that we'd be able to summit both peaks. That said, we took a bit more time eating and getting ready that morning, and our boots weren't on the trail until 4:45am.
Like the morning before, we once again blasted up the trail and reached Twin Lakes in about 75 minutes. It was 6:00am and with sunrise only a few minutes away, the lighting was good enough to get a few photos by the lakes (Photo 44). From there, we took the west route toward Mt. Eolus. Over the next half mile, the route gradually traversed across a broad, grassy south-facing slope, avoiding a large, slabby rock wall to the north (Photo 45).
At 13,200 feet, the trail disappeared at the base of a large, snow-covered boulder field directly under Mt. Eolus' east face (Photo 46). We continued following the cairned route northwest around, and then across, the east side of the snow field (Photo 47). The route then ascended a ramp from the snowfield up onto a large bench below North Eolus and 13er Glacier Point. Lingering snow coverage was more widespread up here. We threw on our crampons and bootpacked several hundred yards up one of the slick snowfields to gain the saddle between Mt. Eolus and North Eolus (Photos 48 & 49). The last ~100 feet up to the saddle required a little but of fun, easy class 3 climbing (Photo 50).
From the saddle, the route to Mt. Eolus turned left and crossed a narrow section of the peak's northeast ridge known as the "Catwalk" (Photos 50 & 51). There are several insanely steep dropoffs from the Catwalk, especially on the north side. I made sure to have my GoPro recording for this part of the climb. You can watch the video below, which shows our entire trek across the catwalk in glorious 4K.
The end of the Catwalk led right into the final 200-foot climb up the peak's upper east face. The route to the summit from here is not trivial, as the east face contains a complex system of ledges and class 3 climbing (Photo 53). In fact, the three of us spent a good 20–30 minutes wandering back and forth along some of the lower ledges just trying to figure out where to even begin. It wasn't until another party of climbers met up with us that we were collectively able to identify the correct route up through the rock maze.
We finally planted our feet on the summit a few minutes before 9:30am. There, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and snapped our summit pics (Photos 54–57). The true summit appeared to have been out at the end of a rock ledge, so I made sure to crawl out to it and at least tap it with my boots. By this time, ominous clouds were beginning to develop overhead, so we didn't waste too much more time exploring that spicy summit.
The climb back down the east face went quite a bit smoother than the uplimb (Photo 58). Not only did we now know the way, but the growing threat of thunderstorms meant that we needed to hurry it up if we still wanted to summit North Eolus. The pace was therefore a bit quicker down the ledges and back across the Catwalk. From the saddle between the two peaks, it was a short, relatively easy class 3 climb up a series of rock slabs to the top of North Eolus (Photo 59). By 10:20am, we were on the summit (Photo 60).
Thankfully, after reassessing the weather situation, we determined that the thunderstorm threat did not yet appear imminent. So unlike on Mt. Eolus, we were actually able to relax a little bit on this summit and enjoyed a more substantial intake of calories (i.e., lunch). We then departed the summit around 11:00am (about 30 minutes later) and quickly retraced our steps back down the mountain. At both the upper and lower snowfields, we treated ourselves to a super fun and refreshing glissade down the snow (Photo 61).
As we approached Twin Lakes, we were blown away by the picturesque alpine scenery before us. Vibrant foregrounds of plush grassy slopes and golden wildflowers; majestic, rugged mountain landscapes in the distance; and dark, turbulent skies above (Photos 62–64). A smorgasbord for the eyes! Still, though, no rumbles of thunder or signs of imminent rain.
We arrived back at the lakes around Noon and decided to take a break there. The sun came out and provided us with more photo opportunities (Photo 65). To our delight, several mountain goats made an appearance and graciously posed for us (Photos 66 & 67). Those creatures are so curious!
While there, we also happened to reluctantly cross paths with the self-appointed Keeper of the Mountain. Although goats and other alpine inhabitants have the freedom to roam the wilderness and go wherever they so please, apparently us mere humans do not. In particular, the alpine tundra is strictly off limits. Yes, I get it. We should all perhaps make a reasonable effort to tread lightly on sensitive plant life (although I don't fully buy into the environmentalist narrative around alpine tundra). However, the Keeper of the Mountain—an overly vocal male Karen (but I repeat myself) from another hiking party—decided it was his moral duty to incessantly admonish every hiker in the area to "KEEP OFF THE TUNDRA, PLEASE!" We must've heard him say it more than a dozen times in the 30 minutes we were there, to anyone and everyone. Repeatedly. So, to this day, I always make it a point to sarcastically repeat that stupid phrase aloud, for all to hear, whenever I find myself treading upon the sacred alpine tundra. #EndRant
Eventually the skies began darken again with storm clouds, so we gathered our packs a little after 12:30pm and commenced the final 1.6-mile hike back down to our campsite. If my memory is correct, we didn't get rained on this time and arrived at camp by 1:30pm, less than 9 hours after we started. My GPS indicated that we had trekked 6.6 miles that day and gained 3,240 feet of elevation, making for a three-day total of 19.7 miles and 9,840 feet.
A weak thundershower or two did pass through the basin as the afternoon wore on. We spent much of that time lounging around in our tents, either napping or just resting in our warm sleeping bags. After dinner, our exhaustion finally caught up with us and we were in bed well before sunset. We needed sleep, and by golly we were gonna get it!
DAY 4 – DON'T MISS THE TRAIN
It must have rained overnight, because everything was quite wet when we awoke Sunday morning around 8:00am. I wouldn't really know considering that I slept like a rock, probably for a good 11–12 hours. We all did. Yet somehow, I still felt exhausted walking around camp that morning, even after a nice hearty breakfast.
The plan for that final day was to break down camp and hike the 6+ miles back to Needleton. The afternoon Durango-bound train was scheduled to arrive there at 3:00pm, so we estimated that we needed to be packed up and heading back down the Needle Creek Trail by 11:30am. We took things slow and easy that morning, allowing our bodies enough time to fully wake up. After letting our tent covers dry out in the sun for a bit and refilling our water containers down at the creek, we loaded up our packs, said our goodbyes to Chicago Basin (Photo 68), and hit the trail a few minutes early.
Exactly 2 hours and 5.5 miles later, we reached the junction with the Purgatory Trail. As we approached the Animas River footbridge 15 minutes later, the skies opened up and it began to pour. We noticed an old abandoned cabin just off the trail and, being 90 minutes early, decided to seek shelter there while waiting for the train (Photo 69). Several other hiking parties joined us and we enjoyed some nice conversations with fellow travelers.
A few minutes before 3:00pm, all of us moseyed across the bridge to the Needleton Stop (Photos 70 & 71). By now a group of 20–30 hikers had assembled there, awaiting the train coming south from Silverton. Finally, a faint CHOO CHOO rang out about a mile up the canyon to our north. Then another, this time closer and louder. And another. Eventually, the train came into view. We gather our packs and prepared to board.
False alarm. Unbeknownst to us, this was the first train coming from Silverton that afternoon (or maybe the second one, I don't recall). Whatever the case, this one did not stop at Needleton. The next southbound train was the one we wanted. So we waved at the passengers as the train passed by and then resumed the waiting game (Photo 72). I think it even started to drizzle again, so we huddled under some nearby trees. Then, around 3:30pm, another faint CHOO CHOO could be heard to our north. A few minutes later, our train had arrived. And this time, it did indeed stop.
Once we had all boarded, with our packs loaded into the boxcar, the train continued on its way back to Durango. It followed the same route we had taken on Day 1, but in reverse. The views from the train were of course as amazing as before, especially along the steep ledges above the river (Photos 73 & 74). However, I think Matt, Mike, and I were really just ready to be done. We'd had enough mountains for one trip. It was time to get home.
We pulled into downtown Durango by 6:00pm and were back to our vehicle with our packs by 6:15pm. It had been a long trip, more than 81 hours from when we left the train depot on Thursday morning. In terms of hiking and climbing, our final tally was 26 hours on the trail covering 26.1 miles and 9,900 feet of elevation gain. If you count the train, we traveled more than 88 miles in those four days.
What an awesome adventure it was, full of many memorable experiences! The fact that I'm still able to remember this many details than 5 years later is a testament to that! Granted—photos, videos, and GPS tracks also help to jog the memory as well. Regardless, this was a trip I'll never forget, and it won't be the last time I visit this area (I actually returned to the Needle Mountains three years later to climb several nearby 13ers).
If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! And remember... STAY OFF THE TUNDRA PLEASE!