For those of us lucky enough to step onto our decks or open our front doors to a view of the northern San Juans, one silhouette dominates the horizon: Mount Sneffels.
Known as the “Queen of the San Juans,” this 14,158-foot peak is more than just one of Colorado’s most photographed landmarks. Its dramatic 7,200-foot rise above Ridgway captures the imagination of locals and tourists alike, and its history is as deep and jagged as the mountain itself.
While many of the surrounding peaks are composed of crumbly volcanic ash and debris, Sneffels is a massive igneous stone. It rose up from a “plug” of magma that cooled slowly underground. This peak is remarkably solid, allowing for the sharp, serrated spires unlike its more rounded neighbors.
The mountains stood as silent witnesses to the Tabeguache Ute people long before they appeared on any official map. The San Juans were formidable barriers and sacred landmarks to the earliest indigenous people and later to the Spanish explorers long before they were ever named in English.
While many Colorado peaks are named after forgotten politicians or explorers, Mount Sneffels owes its identity to a Victorian-era literary classic. In 1874, Frederick M. Endlich, a geologist with the famed Hayden Survey, gazed upon the mountain’s rugged western flank. He thought the deep cirque resembled a volcanic crater. Inspired by Jules Verne’s “A Journey to the Center of the Earth” — published just a decade prior — Endlich named the peak after Snæfell, the Icelandic volcano that served as the portal to the earth’s core.
The survey team led by Franklin Rhoda summitted the peak on Sept. 10, 1874.
The men hauled heavy brass surveying equipment to the top to triangulate the surrounding wilderness. Rhoda later wrote: “The peak is so sharp that there is no room for more than two or three persons to stand on the very top.”
The mountain’s name wasn’t secured without a fight. A year later, the Wheeler Survey — a rival team from the U.S.
Army Corps of Engineers — attempted to rename the peak “Mount Blaine” after statesman James G. Blaine. Local residents preferred the whimsical Verne reference. By the time the U.S. Board on Geographic Names formalized it in 1906, “Sneffels” became the official name.
By the 1880s, the San Juan silver boom transformed the mountain’s base from a wilderness into an industrial complex.
The town of Sneffels (originally called Porters) was located at 10,650 feet on the mountain’s south face. The mining camp grew to 2,000 residents and had a school, a post office and a brass band.
Life there was a testament to human endurance. The town served as the hub for the Revenue-Virginius Mine, a titan of its era. As the county’s largest employer, the Revenue featured a massive mill that stretched across the canyon.
The Revenue Tunnel, begun in 1888, was driven over two miles into the mountain to solve the constant threat of flooding.
It was a marvel of 19th-century engineering until a devastating fire in 1915 signaled the beginning of the end for the town.
Today, Mount Sneffels continues to test those who climb it. On the south slopes, climbers must navigate the “infamous” V-notch, a narrow rock squeeze just below the summit that requires a short, exposed move. For those seeking more technical terrain, the Southwest Ridge offers a “Class 3” scramble through a narrow, rocky spine that provides continuous, dizzying views of the surrounding wilderness.
In 1980, the 16,566 acres surrounding the peak were designated as the Mount Sneffels Wilderness, ensuring the “Queen” remains untouched by modern development. Nature has largely reclaimed the old mines; today, all that remains of the town of Sneffels are scattered ruins and the remains of a community that lived and died by the price of silver.
Whether you are a climber tackling the notch or a photographer catching the first light from Dallas Divide, the mountain connects the San Juans’ sacred spirit, industrial past and protected future. It is a portal, not just to the center of the earth, but to the very soul of the San Juans.
Sources include westerncoloradohistory. com, coloradoencyclopedia.org, 14ners. com, and dismalwilderness.com.
Carolyn Snowbarger is a retired educator. After teaching middle schoolers in Olathe, Kansas, for 28 years, she and her husband Vince moved to Washington, D.C. She directed the Teacher-to-Teacher Initiative at the U.S.Department of Education and then managed continuing education programs for the American Institute of Architects. The Snowbargers moved to Ridgway in 2013 after decades of San Juan family vacations.
