Uniquely Theo

 

After resupplying in Crested Butte we headed to Carbondale.We side tripped through Redstone, a very quaint and expensive historic small town on the Crystal River. The next trail we planned to backpack accessed on Forest Service Roads that are on mostly gravel – meaning washboard teeth jarring and kicking up lots of dust, driving 10-15 miles per hour. We did not have a good handle on where we were going to camp but given that we were going to be in the White River National Forest, dispersed camping was always an option. We scouted out the Thomas Lake Trailhead but it was too late to think of backpacking out and there was no camping at the trailhead. So we headed back down the dusty byway. We had seen several spots along the road that appeared suitable to pitch our tents and Prince Creek was close enough to the area we chose was a water source. We would have access to out car parked at least 150 from site and 100 feet from water source. Dispersed camping,for those who my not be familiar with the practice,  is the right to set up camp in any of the National Forest outside a designated campground,  unless otherwise prohibited in specific area. I think of it as half way between “car camping” in an established campground with toilet and water provide and backpacking. There are no services such as trash removal, no facilities such as toilets , purified water,  fire pits, or tables. Of course with backpacking one engages in dispersed camping with no access to car.  It was in a shady grove, there were few bugs, and there was a great very cold creek in which to take a river bath. Here is a glimpse of our last two kitchens and bathroom equipment,  the hanging of the bear bag, water purification, and the  frenzied dogs at dinner time.

It eventually became a joke but when Tasia half-heartedly made an attempt to hang a bear bag. They warn of bears in the area but there was not much of a danger in this area here so our other concern was rodents.)After stretching the line and attaching a bag quite low she suddenly realized she was hanging it in the most contraindicate spot i.e. by the tents. So it became the task at each campsite to take a bear bag picture.

The two dogs have been incredible troopers given the many challenges encountered. Below are portraits of KILIMANJARO aka Kili, my sick dog during the backpacking adventures (who is now well), but he still hung in there with a little assistance and hand feeding by my awesome daughter Tasia.

 

Simba is not to be forgotten. Imagine, “Tiny Dog” as Tasia dubbed him, having to take ten steps for our one, leaping up on bolders that are more like short rocks to us, getting his belly wet fording creeks when it barely touches out toes. Kudos to this mighty little hiker.

Amara, twelve years of age was a great team member.  She trekked along , helped out with the dogs and was entirely engaged in the hike. Her mother, Tasia, would keep her engaged through such task as photography of wild flowers, finding faces to photograph in flowers, rocks, trees or any other object of nature that stood out. Portraits of Amara:

 

Tasia is a great photographer and we spent time by the creek photographing some of the simplest thing in our immediate surroundings including a clover leaf and clover flower,  a tree trunk, a mushroom, an abandoned bicycle with thistles growing into its wheel and chain, and  a strange nest in a globe hanging from the tree. If I take the time to pause and really look about me, there a a myriad of things to see.

It was a  quiet night with a brief rain burst.

Though we had to eventually shift gears since we chose not to risk out lives on the 4-Pass Loop hike in the Maroon Bells, we proceed with the original plan for a shake-out hike on a moderate hike of 13.2 mile round trip: the “Oh-Be-Joyful to Blue Lake Trail in the Raggeds Wilderness Area, Gunnison National Forest. It could be accessed out of Crested Butte. So we basically just stuffed everything into the car wherever it would fit and set out on what we anticipated to be about three hours. Given the mountainous winding and mostly unpaved road, it was a much longer adventure. We arrived in Crested Butte, a bit of an upscale hiking/ski town, got ice etc, and proceeded on another gravel road with the destination being the Oh-Be-Joyful Campground. The driving instructions in the Trail Guide I was using said the road, Slate River Road, was suitable for low clearance 2W drive. I either forgot or never read the rest of the instructions because I started on down the access road to the camp and pretty soon realized that this was VERY likely a 4WD road. But I managed to get my rugged, and slightly abused, little Prius on down without getting hung up on a rock, buried in a whole, or tearing out anything on the bottom of the car. But I soon came to my senses about the next section which involved crossing the Slate River – which at this point, in the early summer runoff, is quite swift. I saw lots of vehicles crossing the 18-2 inch deep path but I was NOT even tempted. I did not want to to drown my car and see it floating down the Slate River. Surprised? Since it had a swift current and was knee high at points, I did not want to chance too many crossings myself and end up wet, hypothermic , and with perhaps something broken. There were campsites on both sides of the creek but is it was 4:00ish in the afternoon and all the ones on the side Priss Prius was on were taken. Some other campers said there were still few across the creek so Tasia decided to wade on across to investigate. Of course this meant abandoning Priss Prius and schlepping all the gear across. Recall! Everything was in total disarray. It would not have been such a challenge if we had had our packs set up for trekking and we would have had to cross with them to get to the trailhead anyhow. Definitely, it would mean far fewer trips for my “strong as an ox” daughter Tasia. But it was just too confusing and trying to sort and organize in the parking lot in the hot sun was less than ideal. I was beginning to think that this would not be “oh-be-joyful.” So Tasia need to transport everything across in at least 5 or 6 trips , through the very cold swiftly moving water. A kind young man named Ross asked us if we needed help and he took a couple loads across. I made one trip, carrying only myself! We were in a mostly shady site though the sites were spread out but not much private. So began camp-set up, rehydrating meals, organizing out pack and settling in for a cold night and hopefully good warm sleep. We soon discovered that this USFS campground, being easily accessible from Crested Butte, is a great spot that some of the younger outdoorsy but also party folks who like to gather for a lively campfire get-together frequent. The “company” kept arriving at least until midnight or one, driving, quite noisily, their trucks across the creek and of course slamming car doors. This was mildly annoying. But they soon earned themselves the nickname of “Hatchet Boys” as they were intermittently chop, chop, chopping and chopping some more logs for their fire. They were still chopping when I finally fell into a deeper sleep around 1:00 am. Since there is usually something that is in the surroundings when camping to disturb the tranquility of the evening, we dubbed that night i “the night of the hatchet boys. ” This again was not an “oh-be-joyful” night.

We were up and after our Italian Roast Via and oatmeal, packed up and were ready to hike out about 10:00. Prior to leaving, it of course involved at least 2-3 trips back across the swift cold creek for Tasia with things we did not need and for things we had forgotten! But our “practice backpack” had commenced. The hike was tougher than I had anticipated. It was already a bit hot in the sun and the dogs wanted to stop and rest every time there was shade.

At first, there were also quite a few people as it is a popular day hike. I was relatively comfortable with my pack’s weight and kept trudging along but could already tell that the altitude was going to kick my butt. I hiked a lot at home, carried a heavier pack for longer distances BUT Florida is sea level and there is NO way to train there for altitude. Even spending several days prior to this at altitudes between Denver at 5280 and Aspen at 8000’ didn’t noticeably help. I began feeling mildly nauseas. It is very humbling when I think of myself as an Ironman athlete still, to be so untrained after all my training. We started at the trailhead at 8,960’ and the backpacked up to 11,075’ for a gain of 2115 ft. It certainly sounded reasonable in the description, but I was beginning to wonder how long it would take me to huff and off my way up. I didn’t doubt I would make it but it was more a matter of when. I was not in an “oh-be-joyful” space right then. The valley however that we were ascending was awash with wildflowers, waterfalls, the Oh Be Joyful Creek, stands of timber providing needs shade, and views of many peaks: Hancock, Oh Be Joyful, Alfey Peak and Purple Mountain. With needing to ascend slow, slow, and steady I did have the time to really revel in the beauty.

The trail had moderate grades so that was quite manageable. By the end of mile three Kili, who was still quite under the wether, started refusing to walk. Kili was not at all “oh-be-joyful.” He has not been eating much, it was getting hot, he too seemed to have some level of response to the altitude. So generous and loving Tasia started carrying this 22 lb. sick doggie up the mountain.

We stopped by the Slate River for lunch and we all felt a bit revived after a needed break. I was feeling a bit joyful now. Kili perked up again and walked on his own. Simba was doing a great job and only had to be carried across deeper streams and when he decided it was time for him to take a break in the shade so as to move him ahead a bit. Some of the next challenges included deadfall with several trees blocking the trail that we would have to climb over. Not joyful, but challenging. The first higher water crossing wasn’t too difficult. I consider anything that will lap over my boots a high water crossing of which we only had one where we removed the boots and used our camp/water shoes. The less deep but more challenging water to negotiate was a meadow that had many creeks of runoff and bordered on marsh. Trying to find a trail for ourselves and the dogs through this maze of little creeks was like walking a maze. Even the dogs, who do not like water or swimming , did pretty well picking their way through though at times Tasia did carry them. Kili took a pretty good dunk once and Amara had to pull him out of the water hole.

 

The trail continued to get steeper entering the woods and I became more nauseous and found the breathing more and more difficult. Amara had an altitude headache. So came Tasia to the rescue. She is my “oh-be-joyful” champion. She carried her pack up a steep 1/4 mile and then returned twice to take Amara’s and mine up this steep section. By now we were all tired and had gone more mileage than the guide indicated, so we hike on a bit further and then saw an open meadow in a basin facing Oh-Be-Joyful Peak. We joyfully decided this was far enough since the last half mile to Blue Lake was steep and quite difficult. We would set camp here in the meadow on top of an abandoned marmot town. There was a creek close as a water source. So camp got set, meals got re-hydrated with boiling water (love that JetBoil), water got purified (Steri Pens are great) and we had some peaceful moments watching the waning of this day. The night was dubbed the “night of the wind” which had a lovely time dancing with our tents.

The next morning was beautiful and there was something so serene about waking and looking out of the tent in this basin filled with wild flowers, permeated with rushing creeks and watrfalls, and seeing these jagged peaks and ridges soaring into the sky. After packing up we decided to leave our packs and hike to Blue Lake. The trail was difficult to find and follow so we shortly nixed that plan and began hiking out about 11:00. It definitely is a lot easier doing the hike in reverse – though going downhill has its own pitfalls and we still needed to take it slow and steady. The one good surprise was that the area of deadfall had been cleared at some point the day we hiked up so no awkward crawls over felled trees. We joyfully arrived at the Oh Be Joyful Camp and decided the sensible thing was to stat there another night. We set up camp in a more shaded spot. This was dubbed the night of the not so joyful “deluge of mosquitos and flies.” After eating we hibernated in our tents. At least the “hatchet boys” were not still in the campground and we slept peacefully.

In the midst of our breaking camp the very gracious young man who we had met arrival day came over and offered to take us and all of our gear across the river in his truck. We cautioned that we were not quite ready but he said he did not mind waiting. So once all packed up we loaded up and were across the river in no time. Tasia did not have to play sherpa and freeze her feet. Everything got pried into the car and we were off on the next adventure.

Breaking camp on July 4th was the order of business for the morning and then traveling on down to Difficult Campground outside of Aspen CO in Rocky Mountains’ Sawatch Range and Elk Mountains. Difficult Campground is along the Roaring Fork River at an elevation just a little below 8000’ above sea level. I had thought it was only 80-90 miles but turns out it was 180 miles and 4-5 hour drive.  I had taken my time breaking camp as I didn’t think I had to drive so far. Of course the first order was to hope the car held together on the 22 miles of washboard road out but I didn’t mind taking it easy as the vistas are beautiful and I remembered to dodge the deer. Again I chose mostly two lane roads and they were for the most part winding and curving up and down the mountains. I love that kind of driving. The route took me over Independence Pass and the Continental Divide. Those choices leave few option for supplies but managed to pick up the few things I would need and there were gas stations open. So many stores were closed though for the Fourth. I arrived at Difficult Campground, in good order, three miles east of Aspen. I am not quite sure why it is called “Difficult” – there is no Difficult River running trough it, there is no difficult road to get to it, the campsites are not difficult to find or set up, there are plenty of vault toilets and water spigots which are not difficult to find or walk to…. I had pictured something much more primitive and Rocky mountain-ish by the name. But there may have been a day years ago when it was perhaps quite difficult to get to. I plan on hiking the “Difficult Trail” the next day so I will see.

Again my timing was perfect. Just got the tent laid out and the rainstorm started to move in. It fortunately did not come ranting and slashing in and I was able to get the tent set up ant rainfly over it before we got too wet. About 15 minutes later it was over and the intense sun at this higher altitude dried everything up quickly. And so began our simple routine of setting up my cot, laying out the sleeping bag, getting the boys beds, a chair, finding water etc. I keep talking about a cooking a simple meal. This is usually some kind of flavored rice packet, into which I throw dehydrated peppers, freeze dried chicken and powder cheese or a meal of bean and rice. Breakfast is always oatmeal with powdered milk and freezer dried blueberries. So after dinner, I set the fire. The dogs, at that moment, decide it is their bedtime and go to the tent. I usually find one asleep on my cot and they definitely moan and groan when I move them, put on their coats (in the mid 40’s) at night and put them in their doggie beds.

Another dawn and I decided I would go into Aspen to get the Forest Service office to inquire about dispersed camping in the areas we were planning to hike. Traffic has seemed no more or less than what I would expect in a tourist area. But I definitely wasn’t prepared for the vast number pf people already in town by 9:00 am. I followed the signs for information as Siri would only give me directions to the USPS instead of USFS. The not so very informed information provider told me I would have to go to a town 28 miles and a 45 minute drive away. So I headed out towards towards Carbondale but within a few block, low and behold a USFS office right in the middle of Aspen. Being informed is probably better than walking into something blindly (my normal approach is to dive in the deep end) so this last statement is new found wisdom. So I talked to the man at the USFS desk and he strongly advised against us doing the hike as the passes still required cramp-ons and ice axes to negotiate. It had never occurred to me that due to the very heavy snow falls this past winter, my dream hike would be buried in snow. Of course there was this very small daredevil voice urging me to not give up yet…but picture an older adult with asthma, a twelve year old who has not walked much more than a couple miles at one shot, a “tiny dog,” and a dog that seemed quite under the weather — all depending on my daughter Tasia to be the guide, cook, pack animal, and emergency sherpa – transporting everyone’s packs and the dogs across very icy sections. So I accepted that the 4-Pass Loop in the Maroon Bell was a NOT. Drove around, feeling quite disappointed, but was amazed at the rock formations and just then understanding why this mountainous area is called the Maroon Bells. I think I am finally a grown up that has moved into a more calm place of acceptance. Years back I would have been sobbing hysterically if I couldn’t do what my heart was set on doing. Finally picked up the supplies I needed and head back to camp after parking in town and checking email and texts before I headed back to the no cell zone. There is a strong part of me that would like to be more unplugged but can’t quite get there yet.

When I selected my campsite on line it was the only available one. And though it is nice and relatively private, it is not shaded once the sun comes up over the mountains and stay in full sun until it dips back below the ridges on the West. It was HOT and though the car said 88 degrees the sun at the 7908’ is intense and felt like a furnace . Spent time re-arranging and re-packing the car in preparation for picking up my daughter Tasia and granddaughter Amara in Denver with the dogs resting in the tiny shade spot we had. However Kili has not been himself, for several days. He was very lethargic, not eating much of anything, and panting excessively so I decided to put him into the air conditioned car, drive as far into town as I needed to get cell service. I called a couple vets and I was able to get an appointment at the Aspen Animal Hospital the next morning, as it was already at 4:00 in the afternoon. I also took the time to make some telephone calls so dogs could be in air-conditioned car. The afternoon rain set in just as we were getting back to camp but the upside was that it cooled the temperature down to 73 degrees. After dinner I finally decided to try at least of mile of the Difficult Trail. Well the trail was not that difficult, unless I suppose you can’t walk a few feet without getting winded or are unable to negotiate stepping up on few rocks. The crossing of the Roaring Fork River had potential to be difficult but was not difficult because there was a sturdy bridge. I did it in Crocs though I really don’t recommend hiking in CROCS.

I had to stay organized (that is a challenge in small Not-So-Pretty Priss Prius) with way too much gear in tow, break camp and be at the Aspen Animal Hospital at 10:00. Two hours later and $700.00 poorer the diagnosis was gastroenteritis and we left with pills and a still very lethargic panting anemic dog who had lost 3 pounds in the last month. I never would have anticipated how much I would worry about these dogs. But the are my best buds!!! So I finally was off to Denver at 12:30. I stopped in Silverthorne and checked into LaQuinta, mostly so i could unload a bunch of gear so as to fit Tasia’s and Amara and their gear in the car. Also set up the “charging station” so all the techie stuff would be up and running for he backpacking. Of course I got stuck in the rush hour traffic getting to DIA for a 5:30 arrival. It was a happy happy re-union though I just about fell over when I saw the massive suitcase that Tasia had that would need to be squeezed into my pint sized Prius. But I know Tasia can work magic when it comes to packing gear into a car and it worked quite well (of course I had not yet told her that I had stored a bunch of stuff in the hotel room in Silverthorne that would also have to be pried into a place in the car. It was a peaceful and happy evening after a trip to Target for a few last minute items. An so the next phase of this journey, backpacking, was about to begin.

Well into the drive to Big Creek Lakes Campground, the area began to look quite barren as almost all of the trees were dead and then as I got further into the mountains, what was perhaps death from massive infestation of the Pine Bark Beetle there was also evidence of a massive wildfire having ravaged the area.

Finally arriving at the lake that the campground was it situated above I had a very sombre feeling. This definitely was not the dense rich fir forest that is so typical of Colorado. All the lodge pole and other pine trees were burned and the area was filled with stumps, massive deadfall, and the tress that were left standing had charred trunks and needle a rusty brown. Enough trees escaped so that there was still newer growth pines and firs throughout the campsite. MY site (of course it is a crap shoot when you plug in a number online) was at the highest point in the campground and backed up to a burned out ridge. There was definitely an aroma of wet ashes as there had been a brief intense thunderstorm shortly after I got the tent set up. Better timing this time by less than a minute! At some level I find it ironic to be in a spot that is filled with loss. In walking throughout the area I began to see this from a larger perspective and found a sombre beauty in the landscape of the dead and dying trees. It makes me think of the impermanence of life and never knowing what the next minute will bring. Tragically it was a campfire that got out of control and resulted in the loss of millions of acres in the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest. I really began to feel glad to have had this experience in nature at this time. Another lesson learned in accepting the need to go with the flow and find the beauty in what unfolds before us.

Typical of mountainous land the storms were brewing in the afternoon and rolling in and out of the area. My gourmet lentil-bean with red peppers soup was eaten in the tent, my lap the table, as the wind was tipping the tent in a rather fierce way. This is not known as bear country, but I try never to bring food into the tent. But somehow with the fierce way the wind whipped in with the driving rain all I wanted was cover AND my food. The dogs already were in the tent. For the most part the evening was calm and the fire was massive and burned bright. There was so much wood in this area no need to buy wood.

The new dawn, July 3rd, came early but a beautiful blue sky appeared as I poked my head out of the tent. The sun was already begging to bake us inside our little cocoon. So I was ready to have coffee and breakfast and hike early in the day before the storms brewed and spewed their rage on us. I headed, with puppies in tow, to the trailhead at the far end of the campground that I had anticipated hiking and it was closed due to the danger of deadfall. So i would have to drive to one further up that I know was open. So I set out gently driving “Not-so-Pretty Miss” and we rattled up another washboard road to the Beaver Creek Trailhead. Kili seemed very lethargic all morning and wouldn’t eat but usually when off leash on a trail he perks up. We set out and the trail was in an area that had not been totally burned out though there still was a lot of deadfall from the Pine Bark Beetle. It was lovely walk in the woods with a few creek crossings which Simba is now negotiating without whining to be carried and they are learning to drink their water from them. One less thing for me to carry. Killi was not his normal run ahead and then double back to check on us but at least I didn’t have to do a drag the dog hike. However once we turned around he really perked up and was his old self running down hill. I am wondering if he is bothered by the altitude. I know I was huffing and puffing a bit but never gave it a thought that altitude might affect a sea level dog? I was glad we had another satisfactory hike at altitude. But even though there are trail similarities there is always so much diversity as well. Though there are not massive fields of wildflowers there are hundreds of many varieties scattered throughout. The intricacies of the flowers and plants is fascinating. This is the first hike I have taken that I encountered anyone on the trail. The campground is quite full but the draw seems to be the ATV 4 wheelers, and electric dirt bikes. It is also a great fishing lake so not known as a hikers paradise. But seeing no other person is true of the hikes I took in the Black Hills as well. The rest of the time was about relaxing in camp. I think the dogs are getting the idea that they have boundaries and as the campsite is rimmed by tress they a pretty much staying put — or they remember the pen or the lines and don’t want that! Life seems so simple when I am camping. Yes it is work but there isn’t the same need to multitask and it encourages me to slow down and really appreciate my connection to the earth that I can’t feel in my asphalt and cement residential neighborhood, my chlorinated swimming pool, and St. Augustine grass. We had a relaxing afternoon and evening, nice walk around the camp, a simple dinner and a blazing fire. There was a light rain storm but we are getting used to theses every afternoon or early evening. The drama unfolded in the middle of the night when it felt like my tent was going to take flight. Strong winds were racing down the ridge and the rain was pelting the back of the tent. It kept poofing and collapsing and swatting me in the head and as a result the water was seeping in through the area hitting my head. Kili was a quite nervous, Simba not phased at all and I just tried to push further down in the sleeping bag to avoid any more tent whipping. As with most of the mountain storm it ended quick as well.