She told me she wanted one more hike before the snow flew. She wanted to take her friend who wasn’t sold on outdoor excursions. Her criteria were tough:
* A destination so stunning, so gorgeous, so interesting, so grand as to be beyond words
* A trailhead within two hours drive of Cheyenne, Wyoming
* No fees but a good trail, and one with restrooms, in a wilderness area
* Challenging enough to be satisfying but not so tough to be exhausting
* A phone number to call a day ahead to make sure the trail was snow free
* No need to wear blaze orange in October (Her friend was a fashionista.)
* And could there be good restaurants nearby for a post-hike celebration?
I balked. She leaned into me and offered me a day to think about it. She was one who must be obeyed. Really.
She called the next day. I had the perfect trail. It meets all her demanding standards, and for beauty the goal is as good as it gets and the walk itself is magnificent: Chasm Lake Trail. It’s a few miles south of Estes Park, within Rocky Mountain National Park which brings all those conveniences, yet since it’s a walk-in area there is no entrance fee. Continue reading →
North Fork Trail, hiked July 4, 2011.
The deep snows of the past winter have delayed entry to the highest of the high country this summer. This mid-level trail opens a way to the snow’s gift: a bounty of wildflowers.
On the eastern side of the Snowy Range, the trail, for most of its four and a half mile length, follows the North Fork of the Little Laramie River, providing a welcome access for anglers fishing for rainbows, brookies and browns.
Connecting two popular campgrounds, the North Fork on Sand Lake Road with Brooklyn Lake, it draws campers looking for a ramble. And if they walk far enough there is more to see along this path than a walk through the woods. Continue reading →
The trail circling Turtle Rock at Vedauwoo is undoubtedly the most popular trail in the Cheyenne, WY, area. And for good reason. It’s close, easy and fascinating in its mix of geological artistry and biological wonder. On any given weekend throughout the spring, summer and fall it’s thrumming with college age kids, seniors and young families toting toddlers. On a weekday you just might have it to yourself.
The well trodden trail is about two and a half miles long with only a little elevation gain and loss, dropping about a hundred feet and coming back up a couple of times. The circle is just right for a two hour walk with visitors from out of town or to combine with a picnic.
To get there take I-80 west from Cheyenne, WY, to exit 329, taking the pavement toward Vedauwoo. Turn left to the fee station, paying your $5 day use fee. Continue toward the campground. On the left will be four parking spaces with a wooden sign reading “Turtle Rock”. This is an overflow lot. The trail here leads to the primary lot just down the hill.
Passing this small lot follow the signs to “W Turtle Rock TRHD”, turning left and then left again. Here is a larger lot with a big privy. The trailhead is to your left, close to the big mass of Turtle Rock. Another sign saying “Turtle Rock Trail” leads to the overflow lot above.
To make it interesting….
Look up and to the right from the parking lot. You’ll usually see climbers following one or another of the cracks to the top. These rocks offer world-class climbing at levels from beginner to expert. Climbing books note more than 200 named routes in the area. Just up from the parking lot is the “Clamshell”, a bulging shell of Sherman granite with regularly spaced ribs. It’s a popular start for several climbs.
As you begin your hike you’ll enter a beautiful grove of mature aspens watered by a good sized spring. As the aspens thin the beaver ponds begin. One pond leads to another, many with a lodge built smack in the middle. The ponds support stocked brook trout.
If you’re lucky you may see a moose or two. They were transplanted into Colorado in 1978 and began to wander north. By the 1980’s some had taken up residence in this Pole Mountain area.
Two young males and a female grew restless back in June, 2007, and decided they would like to take up golf. So they wandered all the way down to Little America where they were noticed by greens keepers. Refusing to pay their green fees, they were told — at a healthy distance — to get out. Moose can become belligerents. And these were. Their excursion ended with intoxicants at the 9th hole, as do so many golf games, but these were served by rifle from Fish and Game wardens. Unable to drive, the moose were taken, not to their homes but to the Snowy Range. I don’t know if they decided to try golf again.
Check out your tap water in advance.
The trail ends its descent and climbs up into the rocks in the shade of large pines. In a short while the trees thin and the route crosses some open granite. Soon you’ll hear the sound of splashing water and you’ll come to a small water fall and a beautiful steam.
This is the sound of Cheyenne’s drinking water. During the 1960’s a 60 mile trans-basin pipeline was built, bringing water from the Snowy Range to this tributary of Middle Crow Creek. From here it flows into Granite Springs Reservoir and down to the water treatment facility before heading to your tap.
The trail starts another small climb along this stream. To the left is what appears to be another beaver pond but it actually is the outflow of the pipeline.
On the right you’ll see a small log building, one of the original toilets built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930’s, and the only one keeping its original wood finish. It is no longer open for use.
The trail comes up to the asphalt at the east trailhead where there is a new vault toilet and a drinking fountain. Follow the asphalt back to the west trailhead by staying close to big Turtle Rock.
Why the name Vedauwoo?
So, as you are wandering you might be wondering why the strange and unique name “Vedauwoo”. Some think it’s a native American word for the place. But, no, that‘s not so. In his memoir Harold Gilbert states, tongue in cheek, that it was named after him. And, in a way, he is absolutely right. For in 1924 he played the character Vedauwoo in an extraordinary pageant held in the box canyon that you are approaching.
The drama, also named “Vedauwoo”, had a cast of nearly 500 including nymphs, sprites and a lusty elf, Indians, trappers, cowboys, the university dean and president. There also was a dinosaur with one line: “groan”. 1800 people came to see the first of two performances.
In the play, Vedauwoo himself, led by a wise cracking gopher, emerges from a hole wearing soil-brown garments, tall and muscular, but his facing showing “the absence of mental and spiritual development.“ His name? It was provided by a missionary, Rev. John Roberts, from the Arapaho word for “earth born“, “bi-ito`o`wu”. It seems we have lost a syllable in the years since.
During the pageant Vedauwoo receives an education in Wyoming’s natural wonders and its history, such that he is transformed into a worthy man to marry the red-haired spirit goddess, Miss Wyoming. The lesson being that “an appreciation of natural beauty develops spiritual beauty.” Or at least that it gets the babe.
The drama was so impressive that people no longer talked of going to Skull Rocks, the previous name. Now they came to Vedauwoo.
The play was written by Mabelle Land DeKay, Yale class of 1901 and a University of Wyoming Drama and English prof. Gilbert writes, “We sometimes wondered if she would survive the worries and problems of production.“ She moved on to Carmel, California in 1948, dying at the grand old age of 89 in 1969.
If time permits take a walk into the Box Canyon to the site of the pageant. The trail is paved for a while and then becomes gravel leading into Vedauwoo Glen. At the end of the trail an old route climbs the rocks to the various flat areas that served as the multi-level stage. Continuing above the stage the route leads to a grand overlook.
The word “gulch” brings up scenes from a cartoon. A dry desolate wash, replete with a bleached cow skeleton, where (gulp!) our intrepid hero Goofy is about to be dry-gulched by a gang of stubble-faced villains.
Not an inviting picture. And nothing like Hewlett Gulch.
Hewlett is an inviting ramble up a pleasant creek, a little valley off the Poudre River canyon that is one of the first to take hold of spring and keep it. It’s a good for a spring or fall walk, run or a mountain bike excursion.
Just out of the parking lot the trail winds through groves of cottonwoods that ring with bird song. Without really looking you’ll see robins, flickers, gray “camp-robber” jays and their mountain jay cousins, plus nuthatches creeping up the bark.
It’s open and sunny with scattered pines and junipers midst the tall grasses and rabbit bush.
This spring I was on the search for pasque flowers. Passover was past and Easter was the next day and I hadn’t seen any. Named for the holidays because they raise their heads from the cold ground during the season, shyly cloaked in purple, purple the color of the church linens of Lent. It just didn’t seem right to celebrate the resurrection without them.
Besides I love walking along a playful creek. Makes me happy. Some say it’s the negative ions that moving water generates. There’s science that supports the notion that these ions will improve mood and even speed healing. Continue reading →
The Teton Crest Trail draws trekkers from all over the world. It’s one of the top ten alpine hikes anywhere, Switzerland, New Zealand and Patagonia included. But it hadn’t drawn me. Something got in the way.
Permits. I’m from Wyoming. I like my freedom. I want to camp where I want to camp when I want to camp. Can’t do that in Teton National Park. I like free entry to my wilderness. Can’t do that in Teton National Park. Twenty five dollars at the gate.
But the Teton Crest Trail runs the high line behind the mighty peaks. It drops over a divide through the plunging canyons, spilling out at their feet. I had to set aside my pride and belly up to the bar, the bar being the counter that is the backcountry desk of the Senator Thomas Visitor Center at Moose. I hate to admit it but the staff was more than pleasant and patient. Blond, pretty and knowledgeable.
She smelled good, too, which was a heavenly contrast to the hitchhiker I had picked up in Dubois and had just dropped off on the highway. Continue reading →
Spring, in our foothills, is the metallic call of the sleek and shining redwing blackbird perched on the flaking old tuft of last year’s cattail. It’s the full out, web-extended urgent brake of the northbound teal throttling down to rest a night in an overfull pond. The nose of a spotted fawn peering up through the bent and broken old grasses, looking for mom and seeing the wide new world through brown liquid eyes.
Cutleaf daisies, clustered together as if for warmth, hold their brave faces to a blue and blustery sky where hawks ride the billowing air, circling into the sun. A beaver smacks the water and cracks the air.
We stretch our winter-stiff legs and breathe deep. Our cramped souls expand again, hard buds opening to the light.
All of this and more can be found close to Cheyenne at the “John and Annie Woodhouse Recreation and Wildlife Habitat Area.” It’s about twenty-five minutes away.
Set aside to preserve a three mile stretch of North Crow Creek, beavers were first invited to do their work. With only willow branches and mud they’ve done a fine job, weaving a meandering string of terraced ponds through the valley floor. Continue reading →
The Pole Mountain area, now a scene of play and renewal, has a history of struggle and tumult. For decades warriors trained, grunted and groused; “readied, aimed and fired“, detonating explosives that tore the quite high country air. Civilian Conservation Corpsmen sweat and labored, building roads and planting the forest we enjoy today. Miners blasted the rocky knobs of quartz for feldspar, trucking it off in growling low gear.
Considering all this activity it is surprising how rare are the remains. Frankly the military and the forest service have done a thorough cleaning up. But they missed a few things.
Last year we published a treasure hunt of the “Weird and Wonderful”. For those who enjoyed it, here’s a new quest for even more subtle relics.
While discovering these sites please remember to preserve them in every way, leaving every rock and stick in place. I’m trusting you. Most of these are especially fragile. And by all means don’t dig. Unexploded munitions could render you the last casualty of WWII.
UTM refers to Universal Transverse Meridian, designating a way point to be used with a GPS or a USGS topo map. (1927 Datum.)
Two collapsed earthen observation bunkers far to the northwest.
FS 701 north. Left on 712. Right on 702. Left on 714. Right on 715. Open the gate, continuing on 715. They are at a high point on the grassy hill just off 715 on the left, pointed at Eagle Rock. Image laying in one of these as shells whistle overhead, your field glasses trained on the clouds of dust and smoke that note impact, radioing the results back to the big guns. (UTM 0465300 / 4571836)
One collapsed earth and rock bunker overlooking Eagle Rock.
FS 701 north. Left on 712. Right on 702. Right on 714. On the south side of the road at the high point of the ridge. A limber pine now grows from the south end. (UTM 0470062 / 4569441)
Artillery Spring.
Here is a refreshing spigot of cool, clear, ever-flowing water. From Happy Jack, go north on FS 701 parking just before South Lodgepole Creek. Walk west along the south side of the creek until you can follow an old overgrown road cut into the aspens into the second draw. As you enter the trees about a tenth mile from FS 701 listen for the sound of water. Above the pipe is a large concrete collecting tank with lid. (UTM 0469987 / 4567334)
Unknown construction and overlook.
High above the old military headquarters is a prominent point. Just behind the top are the remains of some little building or privy. While the archeology is minimal the view is maximal. From here one can overlook the HQ and it’s fading roads, the Snowy Range, Rawah Peaks, the Mummy Range in Rocky Mountain National Park and Twin Mountain and Turtle Rock nearby. From Happy Jack go south on FS 707, parking at the Headquarters Trailhead. Hike up the trail. When you’ve reached the junction with the Browns Landing trail leave the trail and make your way up to the near highpoint on your right. (UTM 0467163 / 4563686)
Military field kitchens.
Steven Whittenberger of Laramie told me about these old iron steam tables and ovens, left behind well off the beaten path. Take Happy Jack to FS 701, then 3.0 miles to 701C. Go south .8 miles to 701CA. Then east .3 miles. As the road turns to the right look for an opening on your left. Park here and follow the very faint remains of an old road to the north on foot. As you walk around the first knoll the kitchens are off to your left. (UTM 0469841 / 4565899)
Seismograph Boxes.
Randy Martin of Cheyenne brought these fascinating relics of the cold war to my attention. They held seismographs for monitoring the Russian nuclear bomb tests of the 1950’s. One was watched by the Long Range Seismic Monitoring Network of Garland, Texas, and the other by the Ministry of Defense, Blacknest, England. From Happy Jack go south 1.4 miles on FS 707A. At the junction of 707AG park and walk toward Twin Peaks. The remains are close to the road. (UTM 0470057 / 4560658)
Civilian Conservation Corps log craftsmanship.
The great make-work program for restless young men of the 1930’s is known for its fine design, construction and use of native materials. A CCC camp operated throughout the 1930’s at Pole Mountain. Little remains, except for the forest itself! They planted 280,000 trees on the mountain’s denuded acres. Yet three of the finest latrines you’ll ever see in these days of fiberglass and concrete have lasted more than seventy-five years, exquisite examples of log artistry.
The best preserved is still in use at Wallis Picnic area along FS 705. You can access FS 705 from the Blair-Wallis exit on I-80 or from the Summit rest area, going south. (UTM 0466309 / 4561107) Another is hidden behind the trees at Blair Picnic Ground also on FS 705. (UTM 0467004 / 4559642) The third log potty, now closed, is in the Vedauwoo area along the road to “Beaver Ponds day use”. This one retains it’s original natural varnish. (UTM 0469145 / 4556440)
Feldspar Mines.
These two knobs have been cored to extract the quartz that holds feldspar. From Happy Jack go north on FS 701, then east on 712, north on 714, north on 713, east on 713C, north on 709 to the far northeast corner of the forest. Keep an eye out for the salmon colored scars. The biggest mine is at the end of 709. (UTM 0474103 / 4572059) To reach the other one back track, taking 709A to its end. (UTM 0473800 / 4571838)
Aqueduct Opening.
While it doesn’t look strange at all, this pond and it’s lovely flow of laughing water may be the strangest thing of all. If you look upstream you’ll see that there is no immediate source for the stream. This water comes from the Snowy Range miles away via a pipeline taping Rob Roy reservoir. Completed in 1965, it pours into this small tributary of Middle Crow Creek where it flows into Granite Springs Reservoir, and into your kitchen sink, by way of the city’s water treatment plant. Go into Vedauwoo on FS 720, following signs to “Beaver Ponds day use”. Park and walk to the southeast through the trees. The pond is the end of the aqueduct. It‘s fun to follow the overflow from the culvert through the great rocks. (UTM 0469278 / 4556467)
Ames Monument.
While hardly a secret, this pyramid is just too weird to leave off the list. Union Pacific’s celebration of Oliver and Oakes Ames was built in 1882 but was left isolated nine years later when the railroad moved its tracks to the south. From I-80 take the Vedauwoo exit but go west, under the freeway. Then take Monument Road south to the two-angled, four-sided wonder. Sadly, like most monumental pharaohs, the Ames have suffered the loss of their noses. (UTM 0466647 / 4553131)
Sherman Cemetery.
What do you call a cemetery where most of the bodies have been relocated? A motel for the dead? Imagine being dug up. “I had hoped this was the resurrection but now you’re taking me to Cleveland?“ This sad little spot is a reminder of the dangers of building a railroad across the primeval frontier. It is less than a quarter mile northwest of Ames Monument and is all that remains of Sherman, a railroad town whose buildings were also relocated. (UTM 0466435 / 4553655)
Happy searching! If you come across more weird, man-made relics at Pole Mountain, let me know. There are some things I have never been able to find.
One is a pulley on the west side of a rock formation on the north side of Happy Jack Road close to the forest boundary. It was used along with a pulley on a pole to hoist derelict aircraft for target practice.
I also have never found the Buck Sullivan spring which is somewhere west of the first radio towers on FS 703. Several homesteads were located in what is now the forest. I wonder what remains.
There is a canyon on the north end of the Medicine Bows that few know. Its shadowed walls hold hidden secrets, discretely placed, hushing those who encounter them.
Here the solid remains of an ancient dune field, nestled into the granite range, have been exposed by tumbling waters. The creek has carved a canyon, filled with pines, broad as a bowl at the top but narrowing as it descends. Sandstone walls tower overhead, forming cliffs, domes and alcoves that reach nearly two hundred feet to the sky. Ah sandstone, the colors of skin, white, red and brown, sinuous and soft to the touch of wind and water.
Across the valley a pillar stands alone on the hillside, holding forth above the pines. It is matched by Continue reading →
The other day I went into the Room of Doom, through the Maze, down the Devil’s Staircase. And that was just the start. After Decapitation there was Cardiac. I nearly ended in the Pine Box.
It was my wife’s idea. She said our 35th wedding anniversary needed some adrenaline. That got me worried. What did she have in mind? Rafting the Poudre. Twelve miles of Class III and IV rapids with scary names. On what was the highest water day of the year, so far. My wife, Matty, is the cautious one in the family. Except when it comes to raft trips.
She booked a half day trip (“The Plunge”) with Mountain Whitewater Descents, one of four outfitters that guide Colorado’s only “Wild and Scenic River” from Ft. Collins, Colorado.
At noon Melissa, a petite, athletic woman with a black pony tail and one of their most experienced guides mustered us for the briefing. With moments of dark humor we were reminded, in short, that this was not a water park, it was the real thing. We were part of a working team, not just riders. Our paddling would allow our guide to steer. Our ready response to commands would allow the guide to steer in the right direction.
We were told what we should do if tossed out of the raft, becoming an accidental swimmer. Swim feet Continue reading →
Highlights: A sandstone canyon sporting two tall rock pillars inscribed with glyphs from the cowboy era, a laughing stream and a lush growth of pines.
Location: Near Arlington on the north edge of the Medicine Bow Mountains.
Total Distance: One to two miles down and back.
Elevations: Rim, 8280’; Floor 8060’
Maps: USGS White Rock Canyon quad; Medicine Bow National Forest Map
Trailhead: Take I-80 west from Cheyenne about 90 miles, exiting at Arlington, exit 272. Turn under the interstate then go west along the south service road. At the third forest service road, FS 111, 1½ miles from Arlington, turn south. Continue on gravel FS 111 about three miles. Just after entering the forest take the right fork into a parking area. The canyon sign has been removed by vandals.
The hike: This is a little adventure more than a hike as there are no trails to follow. It’s better this way! From the rim you’ll spot two sandstone pillars across the creek. Your mission? Scramble off the canyon edge and cross the vale to find the spires. It looks easy until you discover how well hidden they are among the tall pines. After inspecting the inscriptions you’ll want to follow the creek downstream (East Fork of Wagonhound Creek) to the narrow canyon gates where there are more glyphs from turn of the century cowboys and travelers. The walls here are nearly 200 feet tall. While there try to figure out how this white sandstone came to exist in sight of the massive granite bulk of Elk Mountain. Return the way you came.
Pointers: Please don’t even think about defacing these old etchings or of adding your own. Even oil from your hands is damaging. This is one of few records left by these early arrivals, the ancestors of some familiar names in Laramie and Cheyenne today. We have many other ways of “making our mark” in the 21st century.
Itching to get out and stretch your legs? Restless? A warm breeze, a few daffodils, robins hopping about the yard will do that to a person.
But here on these high plains all our favorite tramping grounds are bound in snow or slippery with mud. What’s a person to do?
Drop about a thousand feet. It always surprises me how much warmer it is, how spring comes a few weeks earlier in Ft. Collins, Colorado. And they’ve got a vast spread of foothill ground preserved for hikers, runners, mountain bikers and horsemen.
Coyote Ridge Trail makes a pleasant spring walk, especially for young kids with their folks or grandparents. It’s also a gateway to a bodacious run of gear grinding single-track for mountain bikers.
Prairie dogs surround the first mile of trail as it makes a straight, broad path through their colony. Accustomed to people, they pop in and out of their burrows, raise tails in alarm and pipe out a good squeal just to keep in practice. Some of the kids I watched were squealing back in delight. Continue reading →
This spring break we walked from winter to summer in just less than six hours. Breakfast was in the crunch of icy snow. Supper was prepared in the give of soft sand, an 80 degree sun baking the winter freeze from my old bones.
The quickest way to summer is not to drive south but to walk down. Down into the welcoming heart of the Grand Canyon.
We’ve done it for ten springs now, a family tradition, taking different trails from the south rim down to the river. In one sense it’s a trip through deep time, walking down this layer cake of rock through ever older sediments. But in another sense it’s a fast trip from Canada to Mexico. The rim is in the Canadian zone of Ponderosa pines while the river flows through the Sonoran zone of cactus and mesquite. In six hours we walked south across the North American continent.
The ideal hike to meet the inner Grand Canyon
While there are nine trails snaking their way down the south rim, only two are maintained. They join at the river to make a loop. Here’s my prescription for the perfect spring break backpack.
Get up in the dark, dress warmly and stumble to one of several overlooks to watch dawn’s light show. Sipping hot coffee adds to the pleasure. As the sun eases up over the horizon, it highlights ridge upon ridge below you. A giant condor, recently reintroduced to the park, may heighten your wonder.
This year my son decided to reintroduce the pterodactyl. He bought one at Walmart, complete with red streamers and yards of string. Continue reading →
“Shooshhh, shooshhh, shooshhh,” the snow whispers to the skis. “Shooshhh, shooshhh, shooshhh….”
A gentle compress of snow hovers on each fir’s flat needles, as if to cool the overheated exertion of a summer’s growth.
This forest, dry and rocky and ignored in summer, has been enchanted, spell bound. The sun, gazing soft and low from the southern horizon, casts countless long blue shadows, holding all enthrall. Only an occasional jay breaks the silence, a grey squirrel arcs across the quiet.
Finding a rhythm, cross country skiers breathe deeply. Inhalation of the crisp air brings exhilaration.
They have discovered that the crimped down, cramped out, wind-scoured days of a grim Cheyenne winter hold a precious treasure. While others are merely enduring the bleak, broke days of January, February and March, soldiering on until spring, these lucky few have found a reason to smile. They’ll be on Pole Mountain again this weekend.
With long, north facing terraces covered in pines, Pole Mountain captures and holds the snowfall. “The snow this year has been great,” reported Ellen Axtmann, coordinator of the Medicine Bow Nordic Association (MBNA). “We are having the best snow year we have had in years!” Continue reading →
My friend Sue said that the way you spend New Year’s Day is how you will spend the rest of the year. “Chinese tradition,“ she said. Wow. So how could I have a really great day and set fate on a roll to a splendid year?
Picture this: effortlessly gliding across a sparkling snow field under towering peaks beneath a bluebird sky. That was my plan. Cross country skiing. Why not Rocky Mountain National Park?
The afternoon of the first of twenty-ten I rushed into the visitors center, out of breath, having successfully run the gauntlet of Estes Park shops without spending a cent. The snowy-haired ranger looked at me like I was nuts. Wrong side of the park. Not enough snow on this side. Rarely is.
“Do you have snowshoes? The snowshoeing is very popular, up and around Bear Lake.”
“Well, yes,” I replied without enthusiasm. My snowshoes are huge. Made to carry a fully loaded behemoth across an ocean of deep powder. They weigh, I think, thirty pounds each. I don’t like them.
“Well, good,” he said. “Go up to Bear Lake.” Ok, so maybe I’ll get some fine sunset photos of that ships-prow of a mountain, Hallett Peak. Maybe the Tribune-Eagle will like them. It was an hour to sundown.
As I drove up the clouds came down, swallowing all traces of mountain. This could be Kansas with a low ceiling and pine trees for all I could see.
I found a place to park and hoisted the mighty snowshoes, poles and pack. Forgot to bring water. Great. “Don’t eat yellow snow.“ Famous Eskimo advice. Laden with gear, stumbling toward the trails across the icy parking lot, I would not let twenty-ten fizzle due to lack of effort.
Snowshoes strapped on, I pushed off. Heave ho. Heavily plodding up the hill, the tubular frames of the shoes banging into each other as I waddled, legs further and further apart. That was bad enough.
But everyone was be-bopping around me. Sweet college girls with tiny little snow shoes. Young fathers with toddlers bouncing in packs on their backs with tiny little snow shoes. Spry old ladies, yes, with tiny little snow shoes. These people were having a lot of fun. Continue reading →
I understand that in the middle ages people didn’t take vacations. They took pilgrimages. These were journeys, long or short, with a destination of spiritual import. Relic remains of holy men and women were a special draw. Central to the trek was a hope that something divine would happen to them
There was interesting company, too, and a warmer climate, some new scenery and the possibility of new cuisine but the object was a renewal of faith.
It seems that’s the reason that a lot of northern retirees head to Sedona.
People go to Moab to rebel; to Aspen for elegance and grace; to Las Vegas for the rush. People go to Sedona for something spiritual.
I love red rock country. The great walls, towering pinnacles, blue skies with hidden remnants of the ancient ones. Add some rare desert critters and the chance to get warm in winter and I’m ready to go. Fiends who head to Sedona for a warm up every winter couldn’t understand why I had never been there.
Something always kept it off my list. Too posh perhaps. (I’ve always avoided places with a Sotheby’s.) Too touristy. Too civilized. The New Age hype also dampened my desire.
But now I’ve gone, and come back. I’ve even sat in several vortexes. Now I know why people loved Sedona.
The place is gorgeous. The town nestles in valleys of towering red rock, the same rock formations that make up the Grand Canyon.
And it has to be the day hike capital of the world. 135 trails begin in, or near town. They wander deep into canyons, climb up into towering red rock saddles, scamper across slick rock formations, open to sweeping, 360 degree views. Several lead to hidden arches and others to mysterious rock art and cliff dwellings.
Within minutes the tension of Sedona’s “senior moment” traffic is hushed, out of sight and sound. Many of these leisurely hikes enter two designated wilderness areas, Red Rock-Secret Mountain and Munds Mountain. The trails are easy to moderate and most are popular with visiting retirees.
Then there is the weather. While the summer is too hot for much beyond the reach of air conditioning, fall, winter and spring are very comfortable. Even December and January have inviting rambling weather with average temps topping out at 55 and dropping to 30 at night.
So what’s a vortex? Around 1980 two psychics claimed to locate special spots where energy flows up from mother earth. Believers claim there are three flavors, masculine, feminine and neutral. There are six or so of these around town, all fairly accessible and uniquely beautiful. Resting at one is purported to energize and inspire. Psychic abilities are said to be enhanced.
At dawn I huffed and puffed my way up iconic Cathedral Rock, catching my breath in the saddle, a soft glow of orange light around me. What is one supposed to feel in a vortex? I was hungry. Some breakfast bars helped. It was windy up there. I was cold.
A couple of couples came and went. Inspired? Yes. The sunrise from this spot is exquisite. So what are you supposed to do in a vortex? I did offer a prayer for peace to all I love, and (why not?) the world. We could use it, that’s for sure.
At some of the sites believers defy the Forest Service and construct elaborate medicine wheels of small rocks. At others they construct interesting little towers, choosing each rock with great care.
While the new age movement gets a lot of hype, there are plenty of conservatives around. John McCain’s Hidden Valley ranch is there. And the most popular spiritual site is the Catholic Chapel of the Holy Cross.
So what’s not to like about Sedona? The food is great. (My tip: Wildflower Bread, Co. at 101 N. Highway 89A. Great breakfast and lunch.)
There is no end of shopping to enjoy or to avoid, as suits your taste. Lot’s of art galleries–western, native American and modern.
So, what’s not to like? Well, some of the dirt and rock roads to trailheads are killers. High clearance helps, but even then…. And there are the fees. Daily trailhead fees run five bucks. You can get a week’s pass for $15. “I can’t see the forest for the FEES!” is a popular local complaint. Yet considering what a room costs here (and you won’t find a cheap one) the fees are a bargain.
Of the trails I had the chance to try out I’d especially recommend these three: Cathedral Rock (which is somewhat strenuous), the Cow Pies off of Schnebly Hill road (big, flat rounds of slick rock in a colorful canyon) and Boynton Canyon and the Vista, off of Dry Creek Road.
Richard and Sherry Mangum write a fine trail guide, Sedona Hikes. Free maps are everywhere. The Coconino National Forest’s “Recreation Guide” is especially good. The Sedona Chamber of Commerce is the one stop information center for everything, on the ground or virtual. Check out their site at www.VisitSedona.com.
So when your bones are chilled and you need renewal, take the pilgrimage to Sedona. Who knows what might happen?
A spark, like the arc of fire as steel strikes flint, fell with each postcard. It was the summer of 1961 and the postman brought a card nearly each day. I tried to meet him on the steps.
Glossy spectachrome, some with scalloped edges, some sheer. Photos of the our national parks. The badlands, great buffalo, the solemn faces of Mt. Rushmore, the Devil’s Tower.
My grandparents were on the American Grand Tour, the great road trip of their lifetime. Grandpa Ellis had been preparing for weeks, carefully building cabinets to fit into the back of the turquoise station wagon, each with its purpose, crafting a kitchen on the tailgate. I watched him fit the canvas tent into the side door, pack a satchel full of highlighted maps. Everything had a place, including a box of cigars and a few fifths of Old Overholt rye whiskey.
Two days after the retirement party from “The Overland”–the Willy’s automotive plant where he had spent his adult life bolting together jeeps and wagons–they were free, sprung from the trap, rolling west from Toledo’s steel and smoke across the flat farms sprouting new corn. Window rolled down, arm on the door, smiling face biting an unlit cigar.
Then the cards started coming. Mom numbered them with a magic marker, tapped them together, a cascading chronicle falling down the front of the fridge.
Next came Yellowstone–geysers and waterfalls and bears!–the shark-tooth range of the Tetons tearing at an impossibly blue sky. The falling sparks had now ignited some small wad of tinder in my heart. A tendril of smoke rose telling me there was an awesome world out there. Grandpa and Grandma were sitting in their webbed folding chairs marveling at it. I was on the step, impatiently throwing a baseball into my gloved hand.
49 years later
My daughter Heather is driving, her dog Echo and I are passengers. They’re taking me to see their favorite part of the world, North Cascades National Park near their home in Washington state.
We’re headed up the Nooksack River road. I’m particularly eager to see Mt. Shuksan. Its faded likeness is on every fourth check I write. The great volcanic cone of Mt. Baker flashes into view as I crouch down to peer out the window. (A Ford Focus just doesn’t have the headroom of a 1960 DeSoto.)
We wind up toward Mt. Baker ski area, Heather expertly guiding me to Picture Lake where, yes, the picture in my checkbook was taken. I marvel. Shuksan is amazing. Heather shows it off as if it’s her mountain, as if she owns it. And well she does.
Grandma and Grandpa didn’t make it to the North Cascades. It wasn’t declared a national park until 1988. Sadly this riot of mountains wasn’t in their guidebook.
I snap pictures. It’s a glorious day of blue sky with sailing puffs of cloud. The mountain did what mountains do well. It filled us with awe. Can something simultaneously impress our smallness yet make us feel large?
Back on the road…
Howard and Helen (and yes, they did later have a boat named “How & Hel”) motored on to Glacier and the “Going to the Sun Road“, then down to the towering redwoods and that greatest of natural temples, Yosemite. I think they were tiring out as they pulled into the south rim of the Grand Canyon, doors slamming as they stretched and hobbled to peer into the immensity. Maybe a mind can only hold so much wonder in a single summer….
Their cards continued to come out of the postman’s leather mail bag. Their assembly reached the floor and we began a new chain from the top.
What a country this “America the Beautiful” I sang about in music proudly standing next to cute Jane Chapman. And it is “MY Country ‘tis of thee”, to which we pledged allegiance each morning, for which our dads had fought. The land of the free, home of the brave and the Detroit Tigers. “From the redwood forests to the gulf stream waters…”
This little flicker of a flame, ignited by my Grandparent’s cards, kept alive by trips to the north woods, burst into an unquenchable fire at 19 when I rode a bus into Yosemite Valley. The wonder of wild mountains and deserts became a place to nurture sanity in a crazy world.
One of the things that pleases me most is to see it burn in the hearts of each of my grown children, all able now to do some wild things better than their old man.
And down the trail…
Heather and I have shouldered backpacks now for a four day walk into the heart of these North Cascades. From the highway we’ve been tempted by views of peaks upon peaks, glaciers holding on to summit ledges, cascades pouring from the ice, making a run to the river.
Our goal is the Sahle Glacier, the highest campsite in the park where we can pitch our tents at the glacier‘s toe and watch the sun set and rise over it all. Before that though we hope to hike into Horseshoe Basin, a vast remote amphitheater with waterfalls streaming off its rim.
The thick forest cloaks us with silence as we walk in from the hot pavement, entering a hushed and secret world. We follow the well worn trail, Bridge Creek flowing below. Breaking in our feet and legs, we’re taking it easy, moving down hill. Our first camp is creekside, in a glade of towering western cedars that stand about like wise old giants, protective.
We wake in the stillness, back on the trail, crossing streams that to my eye, trained by the Rockies, are rivers. Nature’s pace is seeping in, calming our fidgets. Conversation and silence are equally comfortable.
At the junction of the Stehekin River we begin going upstream, following the course of a road washed out and abandoned to boots just a few years ago. Juicy and delicious, thimble berries beg for picking. At Park Creek we set out camp, wash some clothes. It’s sunny and hot. Tomorrow is the first of the big days.
Hot turns to hotter. 95 degrees in the shade. There is no predicting mother nature. She loves to surprise. After staking out tents we head up to our first goal, the great Horseshoe. Two days of walking have opened us up to better take it in. (Compared to my grandparent’s trip what a luxury it is to see these parks year by year by year!)
Climbing a narrow path, often stepping around flowing rivulets, deep in brush and flowers, we look up to find ourselves entering the amphitheater. It’s a perfectly round half circle of cliff walls, crested by a terrace of snow, topped by a tiara of sharp peaks. We count 13 cascades plunging down these walls in a rush of spray, all submerging under a long, wide snowfield.
It’s weird to be tromping on this snow knowing there are rivers flowing beneath us. To cool down I rub the snow into my hair, face and beneath my shirt.
We’re awestruck, thunderstruck, dumbstruck, turning all around to catch the 360 degree views, walking on to the ends of the snow field, standing in the mist of waterfalls as they drop by and beneath us.
We’re all alone.
What a great country! Anywhere else this place would be gated, kept for the private pleasure of the rich. Or commercialized with a hotel, t-shirt stands, thimbleberry snow cones and signs that say “keep away from anything that might hurt you if you are just stupid enough but might also cause you to sue us for not prohibiting it”. But this is our democracy and on this day in July Heather and I have it to ourselves. And anyone with a will to walk can come here, too.
And did I say it was hot? That night, back in camp I prayed that if it didn’t hurt anybody else, could it please cool off.
We woke to low clouds cloaking the peaks. As we walked up stream the clouds moved, lifting and lowering, creating a hide and seek of mountainous proportions. Beautiful.
And then the hail came. Pelting us as we dodged under the great trees, then mixing with heavy rain. By the time we got jackets on we were damp. Rains buffeted. Heather’s legs were soaked. It had dropped 45 degrees since this time yesterday. When one prays, specificity is a good thing. I didn’t say how cool I would like it to be.
We hurried down to a flat place where I could pitch a tent. We huddled inside, Heather getting into a sleeping bag. Hot tea helped. We shared our digital pictures, talked about fun and funny times. We found we were laughing ourselves silly.
The rain stopped. We packed up and went on to Cascade Pass, watching hoary marmots scurry up and down. From the pass we were to take our side trail, climbing 1500 feet up the Sahle Arm to the toe of the glacier and to the top of the world. We were to spend the night and see the stars and moonlight on the ice.
It was to be the highlight of the trip. But we were ensconced in cloud. There was no sign of it lifting. The trail disappeared into the mist. And did I say it was cold? And mention the people up there last night? They huddled on their pads clutching their knees while lightening flashed all around them. Touching the ground caused their hair to stand on end.
Wisdom sent us packing down to a car.
Disappointment gives promise for next year
I have it on good authority, though, that the Sahle Arm is still there. And even the glacier. It calls. As do the national parks I haven’t been to yet, like Crater Lake, and Mt. Ranier and Redwoods, and then there is Big Bend in Texas and Glacier Bay and Denali in Alaska, and how have I lived this long without going to Zion in Utah. The parks remind me there is always more.
The power of awe. Humbling, yet exhilarating. Wonder beyond speech. I’m smiling just thinking about it, now pondering trips for next summer. You, too?
Can I fan the flame that glows in your heart? I wonder to whom we can pass the torch, the torch of love for the natural world that gives us more than existence. TV puts our kids into a trance. Video games into a hyperbolic fantasy. Sports, however valuable, into competition. Our wildlands fire life itself.
If you go….
North Cascades National Park is about 100 miles northeast of Seattle. The park offers fine lodges, simple motels and inns, car camping and backcountry sites. Planning information is on the park website at: www.nps.gov/nocal/. Information about the region and the remarkable Cascades Loop drive which winds through and around the southern side of the park is found by calling (509) 662-3888 and requesting a free travel guide or by going to: www.CascadeLoop.com/.
Highlights: A lovely, long trail following the creeks of a deep, shady canyon. It’s a popular place to stretch out because it’s so easy to get to, so well constructed and the surroundings are so peaceful and expansive. The trail was given National Recreation Trails certification back in 1979 and along with the recognition received funding for lots of neat little bridges. The recent Forest Service plan recommends the area be designated Wilderness. An optional spur leads to Crater Lake, a spring-fed gem embraced by towering granite walls.
Location: The northern reach of the Medicine Bow Mountains, near the town of Arlington, 40 miles west of Laramie.
Elevations: Arlington trailhead, 7,920’; Deep Creek campground trailhead, 10,066’.
Distance: 12 to 13 miles from end to end, one way.
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest; USGS Arlington, White Rock Canyon, Morgan and Sand Lake quads; Forest Service pamphlet “The Snowy Range Hiker.”
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest – Third Edition
, Bill Hunger’s The Hiker’s Guide to Wyoming
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Trailhead: To reach Arlington from Cheyenne, WY, take I-80 90 miles west to the Arlington exit (#272). Go south on FS-127 1-1/2 miles to the trailhead and parking. The Deep Creek campground is on FS-101, which can be reached from WY-130 about four miles west of Centennial or from the Arlington exit by going 1-1/2 miles west on the south service road to FS-111, taking it 13 miles to FS-101, where you turn left and go 1-1/2 miles to the campground.
The Hike: The description will begin at the bottom, at the northern trailhead near Arlington. Rock Creek spreads out broadly here, a sheen of shallow, silver water. The canyon stretches for miles ahead, a deep, broad “V” cut 1,000 feet into the rock. The hillsides are open sage, pierced by rock outcrops; the trail floor soon leads into the shade of a mature aspen grove. A moldering cabin and tailings pile mark the site a of miner’s failed dream. But yours has just begun.
Before long the aspen give way to lodge pole pine, pines which thickly carpet the canyon’s walls for miles. The creek narrows into a long run of rapids, sparkling and laughing below. This is the way it continues, mile upon mile giving hikers a Zen-like tranquility. In the forest shade hides a rare orchid, the clustered lady’s slipper with its drooping green to brown flower and mottled purple pouch.
The high point to the east is Rock Mountain where a Canada lynx was sighted long ago. Deer, elk, mountain lions, and bear are more common. Boreal owls haunt the forest. The creek hosts rainbow and brook trout.
After 4-1/2 miles the canyon forks and the trail stays to the west, now following Deep Creek. A short way further a snowmobile trail is marked, heading up onto the ridge. One-half mile after the fork a well signed trail leads up and west to Crater Lake. Here’s a tough choice. You can continue along Deep Creek as it begins to widen and open through some wet meadows to the trail’s end at Deep Creek camp ground and FS-101, or take the steeper trail up into the woods to Crater Lake.
Crater Lake was not formed by a crater, although it looks like it. It’s a “hanging lake,” left by a receding glacier long ago. Fed by springs, the lake is deep and clear and is held in a tight embrace by curving walls more than 200 feet high. There is a campsite on the lake shore. The trail continues along the shoreline to the north and ascends the walls to FS-113 high above. Many visitors come down to fish for pan sized brookies and to enjoy the scene.
Pointers: This hike makes a nice overnight with a stay at Crater Lake. With friends, and a car at each trailhead, you can enjoy a long descent or an uphill challenge. Many will just trek as far as they like and turn back. Or this could be the first leg of a longer backpacking trip, crossing the road near Sand Lake and continuing on Sheep Lake trail 8.2 miles through the Snowy Range roadless area to Brooklyn Lake, then following the road to the North Fork trail and 4.4 miles more to North Fork Campground.
Highlights: A high alpine lark from lake to lake – seven in all — cutting through and along the great white granite of the Snowy Range.
Location: West of Centennial near the high point of Hwy. 130 in the Medicine Bow National Forest.
Elevations: Trailhead, 10,785’; The Gap, 11,040’; 4th Shelf Lake, 10,860’
Distance: Approximately 2 miles each way.
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest (Snowy Range inset is excellent), free Forest Service pamphlet “Snowy Range Trails”, USGS quads Medicine Bow Peak, Sand Lake
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest
Trailhead: From Cheyenne, WY, take I-80 west through Laramie to exit 311. Follow Hwy. 130 west (Snowy Range Road) continuing 11 miles past Centennial. Turn north into the Sugarloaf Recreation Area, pay your five dollar day use fee and drive on for a mile to the popular Lewis Lake trailhead. You’ll find toilets, picnic tables, grills and benches but no potable water.
The Hike: Come fall many hikers hang up their boots, wanting to stay clear of hunters. Yet it’s a great season to hike. The colors are often vibrant. The cool air is bracing. And the mosquitos are dead. So what’s a person to do?
One is to go to parks where hunting is prohibited, such as Curt Gowdy here in Wyoming; Lory, Horsetooth, and, of course, Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. Another is to hike higher than deer and elk and hunters are likely to go. This sub-alpine hike in krummholz and rock fits that bill perfectly.
The trail begins at Lewis Lake with a fine view of Sugarloaf and Medicine Bow Peak. From this vantage point the great Snowy Range is always whiter and longer than I remember it, contrasting sharply with a fall sky of blue brilliantine. When here I always wonder why I don’t come to the range more often. Head north on the Gap Lakes Trail.
It’s a heavily used rocky track, crossing a streamlet and up the hill to stunning South Gap Lake, hiding in the lee of the great peak. “The Gap” is the break separating the two peaks of the Snowy Range, Medicine Bow and Browns. As you crest the saddle North Gap Lake is just below, nestled under the high wall.
Along the North Gap Lake shore the trail crosses a rocky moraine. Late this summer the well tracked route was under water pushing hikers a little higher up the slope on rocks that were less stable. Just past the moraine a sign marks your exit onto the Shelf Lakes Trail.
You’re back on comforting earth again, quickly climbing to the first of the four Shelf Lakes, each long and narrow, pressed against the north side of Browns Peak. The first two are popular fishing spots, two of only three Snowy Range Lakes that hold golden trout. According to John Baughman’s excellent The Most Complete Guide To… Wyoming Fishing
Shelf #2 has the best action. Shelf #3 is good for 6 to 11 inch brookies.
After Shelf Lake #2 the trail becomes intermittent, disappearing in moist areas and reappearing in the dry. The views from Shelf Lake #3 and #4 are well worth the extra half mile. Just keep going at the same elevation and approximate distance from Browns Peak and you’ll reach the last two lakes. Notice the great perspective of Elk Mountain on the north horizon and the many glacial lakes below.
After the last Shelf Lake no trail is visible. For most, this is the place to retrace your steps.
Pointers: The old USGS Sand Lake quad at the library shows the “Circle Trail” continuing past the fourth Shelf Lake curving east and south to climb Browns Peak, crossing at the eastern most saddle before dropping steeply to Lost Lake. Try as I might I could find no trace of it on the ground except for large cairns on the Browns Peak ridge.
Hiking up Browns is not difficult from the north beyond the Shelf Lakes. The slope is a large alpine fellfield, reaching tundra toward the top. Browns is home to many rare cushion plants lying low on the thin layer of soil that fills the glacial rock.
The Lewis Lake trailhead offers many superb alpine choices. From there you can head up to Medicine Bow Peak or take the lower Lakes Trail to Mirror Lake. The Glacier Lakes trail, aka Lost Lake Trail, to Brooklyn Lake is beautiful. Continuing north past North Gap Lake is also a good option. All should be safely above the fall hunt.
Veduawoo and Pole Mountain is Cheyenne’s back forty. We love to play up there, all with our different passions: fishing, four-wheeling, camping, hiking, climbing, hunting, skiing, sledding or just messing around on the rocks.
The rocks are monumental sculptures, painted with lichens in green, orange and black. The beavers have crafted jewels to reflect the sky. There are the twisty groves of aspens, forests of ramrod straight pines. It’s rare not to see deer and antelope.
If you’ve wandered around much, enjoying the wonderful, you have probably stumbled across some of the weird.
After all it was a "Target and Maneuver Range" for more than 50 years. The Army, Air Force, ROTC and National Guard guys all had some fun blowing things up and shooting things down. There once was a headquarters with 18 buildings.
And before that there was the town of Tie City. Telegraph poles were taken even earlier for the first transcontinental telegraph line. A highway man lived up on Brown’s Landing, robbing travelers. Feldspar mines were blasted from the rock. There was a Civilian Conservation Corps camp. The Happy Jack Ski area operated for many years and there was a lodge where the summit rest area is now.
Frankly, there is a lot of weird stuff to be found.
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Highlights: This short hike is long on attractions: interesting geology, abundant moose and beaver, boiling brookies, but most of all, fascinating archeology.
Location: In the southern Snowy Range, west of Foxpark, entering the Platte River Wilderness
Elevations: Official, four wheel drive trailhead, 8,850’; Douglas Creek:7,950’.
Two wheel drive trailhead on FS 580, 9,188’; Douglas Creek:7,950’.
Distance: From official trailhead, 2. 8 miles each way. From FS 580, about 3. 8 miles each way.
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest, “The Platte River Wilderness” free Forest Service pamphlet, USGS Quad Elkhorn Point
Trailhead: From Cheyenne, Wyoming take I-80 to Laramie, take exit 311, following WY 230 southwest to Foxpark. Turn right on FS 512. After crossing Douglas Creek stay on 512, making a sharp right. Two wheel drive or low clearance vehicles should turn left on FS 580, continuing until the junction of FS 514. Park at the junction. Four wheel drive, high clearance vehicles can continue to FS 506. Turn left and follow this rutted narrow road to 506D. Turn left again, continuing about ½ mile to the Devil’s Gate Trailhead.
The Hike: After signing in at the register, follow the trail down the east fork of Devil’s Gate Creek. The trail is often moist and sprinkled with columbines and arnica. Four short posts mark the wilderness boundary. Beavers have created a series of ponds, forming mirrored terraces teaming with brookies. At the last dam you’ll spot the remains of Thomson Lodge to the left, two long, low cabins connected by a roof over the patio.
The Lodge was operated into the 1950’s by Edith “Bobbie” Thomson, known as the “Angel of Keystone” for her service as nurse, postmistress, cook and teacher to area tie hacks and their families. It is made from tie hack cabins, two of very few with some roof remaining. In one you’ll note a log book where hikers and hunters have left their comments over the years, many noting the serenity of the setting. Add your impressions.
Also at the last beaver dam, to the right of the trail, is the start of what might be the most impressive remaining construction of the tie industry era, the long Carbon Timber Company flume which floated ties down to Douglas Creek and out to the North Platte. The flume, built between 1900 and 1906, follows the East Fork, then cuts across to the West Fork, plunging down to the confluence. Imagine the hundreds of men that sweated and swore, filling this now peaceful hollow with thunder. The lodge area was once a small, booming village.
Past the lodge the trail crosses over to the west fork also, below the flume, continuing down to Douglas Creek. Time to turn back to the Lodge and trailhead.
If you are using the passenger car trailhead, begin your walk down narrow FS 580 into the pines. At the first junction take 580. 07. After a pleasant, cool mile you’ll come to the east fork of Devils Gate Creek. Turn left. Shortly you’ll arrive at the register mentioned above.
Pointers:So where exactly is “the Gate”? The creek was named long ago, in the era of the mountain men. My guess is it’s the rock formation on the east fork just above the west fork junction. What do you think?
Access to Thomson’s Lodge can also be gained by hiking down Douglas Creek from Pelton Creek campground to Devils Gate or by hiking up Douglas Creek from Pike Pole campground.
On my last visit, I was crouching down below the dam to clean my limit of brookies in the early evening. When I quickly stood up a beaver cracked his tail so hard and fast on the water I thought for sure I had been shot. It startled a cow moose, black as night, standing just a few yards away.
The Oasis in the Middle of Colorado Springs, CO
Location:Palmer Park sits right in the middle of Colorado Springs. There are two entrances to the park.
To the WEST entrance: take Fillmore east, just past the major intersection at Union Blvd; you will see some medical office buildings, and then the golf course on the left. Turn LEFT onto Paseo Rd, just at the end of the golf course. It is a small street, but the sign is clearly visible. Paseo winds past the golf course, through a residential area, and right into the park. The actual park entrance is gated and marked by signs.
To the EAST entrance: From Academy Blvd, turn WEST onto Maizeland. There is a large park right there at that intersection, that’s the east end of Palmer Park. The entrance is about 250 yards up on Maizeland, also gated and marked with signs.
What you need to know:The only restrooms are at the west entrance. They appear to be seasonal. There are picnic tables in several areas, but there is no water available, so make sure to bring your own. Pets are welcome, in fact there is a dog park near the east entrance. Wear good sneakers, and bring your mountain bike if you have one.
What you’ll find:From either entrance, the road winds up into the park. There are numerous turn-offs for trails and picnic areas. Eventually you will come to a fork: the southwest branch leads to a fabulous overlook with a panoramic view of the mountains. The other fork will lead you through the park and eventually out the other side.
The trails are fairly wide and well-used. If you’re hiking, do keep an ear open for mountain bikers as they can come up on you pretty quick, and may not be able to see you until they’re nearly on top of you.
The lanscape is made up of sandstone conglomerate that has eroded into small bluffs, slots, and the occasional small spire or hoodoo. It is a relatively dry landscape; the primary vegetation consists of mountain mahogany, juniper, small pines, and thickets of scrub oak. Yucca, prickly pear, and wild currants are also common in various parts of the park, and all areas of the park have a nice variety of seasonal wildflowers. The park is home to coyotes, foxes, mule deer, cottontails, and a wide variety of birds and insects.
This has to be one of the most fun national parks in the country. Children laughing, frolicking in the water, splashing through the next wave. Families building sand castles. Teens flying colorful kites. Seniors watching in beach chairs under their canopies. Kids climbing up the sand, sliding down on their plastic sleds. Dogs playing at the ends of their tethers. Proud fathers filming the glory of it all.
“A national park?” you ask. Yes, even a wilderness area at that. “On one of the coasts?” Well, if Colorado has a coast, this has to be it: Great Sand Dunes National Park in spring and early summer.
Justly famous for its dunes–the tallest in North America–the fun is where Medano Creek skirts the dune field. The waters, having rushed down from the snow fields of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, reach the sand and spread out in a broad, many-braided flow of cool blue. It’s all sand and water, just right for bare feet.
The flow of water pushes sand into temporary dams, momentarily reducing the current. Then the dams burst, sending a wave into the laughing children.
With the rugged range as the backdrop and the great dune field in the foreground all this joyous mayhem couldn’t take place in a grander scene.
And when teens are looking for more adventure there are always the dunes themselves. High Dune, at 650’, hovers above the “beach” and is the most popular destination. On busy days people look like army ants, a marching column ascending the summit. Further into the dune field is Star Dune, which at 750’ is the tallest. Reaching its top is a real accomplishment.
Yet like so many things in the world this glory lasts for just a few weeks. Late in June the creek flow dwindles and the water simply disappears under the sahara of sand. By then the dunes are getting hot, up to 140 degrees on summer afternoons. The crowds are gone, replaced by those who hike the dunes in the cool mornings and explore the mountains by day.
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I’ll leave the more serious, camping/backpacking locales for my father to write up.My hikes are of the day variety, nearby places where I can escape into nature for an afternoon or so.So, I’ve decided I’ll write up some of those places, for those out there who just want a place to get some fresh air, stretch their legs, maybe enjoy a picnic or do some nature photography.First up: North Cheyenne Canyon Park.
Directions:
From I-25, take the Nevada/Tejon exit and turn south. Go just a few blocks to Cheyenne Blvd, and turn Right.Stay on, wind through the pretty residential areas, until the road ends at a three-way fork – You’re here! Just ahead on the right is the Nature Center.You can park there — there’s a trail running up from behind the center that leads to a wide picnic area — or turn diagonal right, between the yellow-striped posts, and head on up the road further into the park.
Equipment:
Wear sturdy sneakers and bring a daypack with water and snack.You can fill bottles at the Nature Center.Dogs are welcome, just clean up after them.Mountain biking is also popular.Do watch out for poison ivy; it is common in the lower part of the park, near the stream. Continue reading →
Has winter cramped your soul, crumpled it up like a wadded piece of paper stuffed into your chest? Do you just need to get out? But where to go in April, with the high country still in snow?
Try Pawnee Buttes. These two rugged outliers stand away from the retreating bluff, their capstone roofs towering in the sky. The northern Colorado National Grasslands offer enough space to stretch your legs and open your heart.
This great little hike begins with a good drive. Gas up, as there are few services in this part of the world. While there may be a faster way, the shortest and most picturesque from Cheyenne, WY takes you on Campstool Road, past the Wyoming Hereford ranch. You’re following the bed of the old Colorado & Wyoming Railroad, built in 1887 to tie Cheyenne to Sterling.
Past Carpenter turn south to Hereford, Colorado. Be careful at Hereford. At a confusing intersection take the gravel road to Grover. From there the “Pawnee Buttes” signs will guide you in.
On the sixty mile drive to the buttes you’ll find your breathing easier, with the ranchettes behind you, steadily moving on to big country, checking out the little towns that refuse to blow away. Beyond Grover stretches a vast wind farm, really a “wind ranch“, blades churning to the horizon, taking their little tax on the current of power flowing invisibly overhead.
The Buttes themselves aren’t visible until you reach the trailhead parking area. The two stand out from Lips Bluff, ruling over the prairie, as tall as massive 20 story buildings. Each has a double cap of limestone, stoutly sheltering the soft sandstone of their bases, holding out against the steady erosion of the larger world. (They remind me of many Wyomingites I know.)
The parking area has two new porta-potties but no water, and, imagine this–no fees! (Don’t tell the Forest Service or they are bound to correct the last problem.) You can take your dogs, on leash. But don’t expect solitude on weekends. This is a popular spot. I doubt if you’ll feel crowded.
You’ll be eager to hit the trail. It’s about a mile and a half to the West Butte, another half to the East one.
The foot path takes you down through the badlands of Lips Bluff, a favorite nesting site of raptors. Last month I watched an American Kestrel stoop upon its small prey. I was listening for a sonic boom but all I heard was the “killy-killy-killy” of their cry. A prairie falcon stared down from the West Butte. You may see golden eagles, ferruginous and Swainson’s hawks.
The trail is open year ‘round but the Bluff is wisely off limits from March 1through June 30 to let the birds nest, raising their chicks in peace.
While the West Butte stands like a great courthouse, with dun colored walls and a Chinese roof, the East looks like a great bell placed on the ground. The trail between the buttes crosses private land but foot access is allowed. A narrow path around the East one is passable but is somewhat high and quite unstable. To the right of it is a maze of deep gullies, just sized for people or hobbits, winding to some reward. Primary school kids would love these passages.
Beyond the East Butte the land stretches as far as the horizon without a fence, a power line or two-track. Just the way the pioneers saw it. Take a deep, expansive breath before you turn back to town and the rush of the 21st century.
Pointers: There is a faint trail around the base of the West Butte also. It is low and safe, and if you loose it, no problem. This is short grass prairie and you really don’t need a trail here at all.
I’ve been told that the grill in Hereford makes the best hamburgers around but it’s closed on Sundays so I’ve never tried it.
Havasu Canyon is a spell binding place where you would be sure to find spring buzzing and blooming around you. It’s not so much south but down, deep into a side canyon of the Grand Canyon, on the Havasupai Indian Reservation of Northern Arizona, a 943 mile drive from Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Let me paint a picture of your campsite. Redwall limestone soars 600 feet to the clear blue sky in front and behind you, etched with desert varnish. The new leaves of ancient cottonwoods are vibrant in shocking spring greens. To your right a twin waterfall of sparkling white arcs 100 feet to plunge into a turquoise pool overflowing its terraces to form the stream passing your camp. This is Havasu canyon, an oasis bursting with life in the midst of the desert. Strong colors of the purest blue, green, coral and turquoise stand side by side. This is the Shangri-la of the South West.
There is no noise but the water’s voice, at once roaring, now chortling, bubbling by. Tranquility eases into your soul. Why so quiet? The only way in is to walk. Or hire a horse. Or drop in by helicopter. On the way you pass through the village of Supai, population 450, the last place in the United States where the mail is delivered by mule. Havasu Canyon is a perfect escape from Wyoming winter during Spring break.
The trailhead is at Hualapai Hilltop, at 5,200 feet altitude, the dead end of Arizona Hwy. 18, 60 miles north of Route 66, west of Seligman, AZ. Here a large dirt parking lot balances at the edge of a precipitous drop into the dry reaches of Hualapai Canyon. It will be filled with the cars and trucks of the Havasupai Indians who live in the village of Supai 8 miles below, joined by the rigs of fellow visitors. In mid-morning Havasupai wranglers arrive with a string of small horses and mules for moving the mail, groceries, some tourists and their duffles. If you’re hiking you begin by walking around the horses, watching for road apples and stepping off the rim to descend the knee-jarring switch backs to the dry stream-bed 1000 feet below.
It may be winter on the rim but you’ll be warm by the time you reach the bottom. This is Grand Canyon country. You’re traveling down the wedding-cake layers of cliff, slope and bench, cliff, slope and bench. Compared to the south rim at Grand Canyon village, you’ve driven down and through the first two layers and are now at the Coconino sandstone, what the Indians call the white cliffs, the upper border of their world below. The trail descends the cliff, then traverses the greenish Hermit Shale, dropping you into the top of the red Supai formation.
Here the canyon is bone dry; the trail, dust and rocks, bright in the sun. It’s hot. There’s no shade except for what you can find along the deepening cliff sides. About 6 1/2 miles along you’ll notice a little water seeping from the gravel floor. Another turn or two brings you to the junction where Hualapai Canyon meets Havasu Canyon and the flowing waters of Havasu creek. A hiker steps from the desert into this corridor of life like walking through the doorway of a dry sauna into a greenhouse. The shade of the cottonwoods, willow and box elder invite you into a luxury of humidity, grass and brush. Birds flit from branch to branch above. The creek is clear and translucent. The secret to its sparkle? The water carries a distillate of limestone that it has deposited along its bed, coating it white. It produces the tropical color we associate with the Caribbean where sea covers sand.
The Village of Supai
Turning left, the trail continues downstream another 1 1/2 miles to Supai. The canyon opens to form a broad, flat-bottomed bowl, walled in by towering cliffs of rust-red rock. Here are the pastures, gardens and homes of the Havasupai peoples. The rock walls are capped with various monoliths. Two appear to stand guard over the town. These are Wigleeva, the guardian spirits of the tribe. Legend has it, that should they fall, the canyon walls will close, destroying the village and the people.
The trail becomes the town’s main street, wide enough for two pack horses to pass. Children trot their ponies, riding bareback. The quiet is startling. Life without the infernal combustion engine sounds like something from a distant age. You’ll pass a number of government issue houses before your come to the Tourist Office to check in and get your permits. A little further along the trail opens into the town square. It’s ringed by small wooden buildings – Post Office, store and town cafe. This is a place to set-a-spell, quench your thirst and look around.
The “Pai”-meaning “people”-moved into the area south of the Grand Canyon around A.D. 1300, long before the Navaho. They hunted on the plateau rims, traveling with the seasons, gathering plants and seeds for food and medicine. During the summer they farmed various canyon floors. When ranchers and prospectors came into the country in the 1860’s conflict erupted between them and the 13 Pai bands. The U.S. army defeated the Pai in 1869 after a bloody three-year campaign. The officers combined the 12 bands that fought into the Hualapai, meaning the “Pine Tree People”. The one band that did not fight remained distinct as the peaceable Havasupai, “The Blue-green Water People”. The two groups of Pai now have separate reservations.
In 1880, President Rutherford Hayes granted the Havasupai a reservation of 38,000 acres. Two years later miners were encroaching. Fearing that their reservation would be taken, Chief Navajo insisted on a smaller reservation of 518 acres, the area of the village. No mineral deposits or grazing lands were included to tempt whites. In 1975 President Gerald Ford added 185,000 acres to the tribe, restoring what they had sacrificed, plus a small part of their historic plateau.
The people are quiet and generous, seeking to live in harmony with all life. You’ll find elders sitting at the town square, visiting with their neighbors. Direct eye contact is rude. The small bands of colorful back-packers pass through almost as if they are not seen. Life is quiet and tranquil. It’s a reminder. This is time to relax.
If you hear music playing it’s likely to be Reggae. Many are Bob Marley fans. Marley’s son, Ziggy, paid a visit to the village once at the peoples’ request. Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead are popular, too. Teens, like teens everyone, are tuned in to their Walkman’s. Their groove? Hip-hop. Some tourists wish the tribe would resist the influences of other cultures yet I don’t suppose any of us would like to be limited to our ancestral music, food and clothing.
There is a modern lodge for those who don’t wish to camp. Advance reservations are essential. For most it’s time to buck on the pack and stroll through the rest of the village and on down the trail. There are three big waterfalls along the creek, now a rushing 38 million gallons of flow per day. The first, named in honor of Navajo, is 1 1/2 miles below the village. The water divides into several beautifully spaced rivulets, falling 75 feet, splashing onto different ledges to gather in a pool before heading downstream. The falls are coyly hidden from plain sight by trees. It’s worth a stop to view the falls from various scenic points.
The Falls and Campground
1/2 mile further the trail brings you to the top of Havasu Falls. You’ll hear its roar first before coming to the drop where the creek hits a boulder in midstream, splitting into two perfect twins which crash 100 feet to the aquamarine pool below. The mineral deposits have formed massive travertine curtains spreading from both sides of the creek, stained red from the dust of the rock of the Supai formation. The trail, built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930’s, takes you down to the floor of the canyon. The creek has formed pools with white terraces at varying levels. Fellow hikers will likely be splashing and swimming in the wet spray and splendor of it all.
The campground, which can hold 300 people when fully occupied, stretches along the stream for a mile, shaded all the way by massive cottonwoods. The canyon has now become narrow and steep with sheer red walls rising 600 feet to the sky. There are picnic tables at the campsites and scattered porta-potties along the way. Water is available from Fern Spring bubbling from the canyon wall midway along on the left. It is recommended that you purify the water before drinking.
As you pick your site and set up camp there are two things you should know about: dogs and rock squirrels. The Havasupai dogs freely roam the camp. They are quiet and peaceful and always looking for dinner. Your food must be tied or boxed out of reach. The acrobatic rock squirrels are fun to watch as they climb, dig and chew–as long as it’s not your dinner they’re stuffing into their cheeks. They can climb anything, even a thin cord, and will chew their way through your pack or tent if they smell anything tasty. Scott Victor, with Four Seasons Guides, recommends Ratsacks, stainless steel mesh bags for your food. They can not be chewed through and are available from www.armoredoutdoorgear.com . They still need to be tied high up to get them out of your gear and away from the dogs. A second option is to secure all food in a pot with the lid wired shut and hung out of reach.
Biodegradeable soap is necessary. You also will want some water socks or sandals as you wash, swim and splash in the pools and creek. The travertine is sharp and will cut bare feet. Don’t forget a swim suit.
The campground area was traditionally off limits for the Havasupai. They used it only to cremate their dead. Most still avoid it even though a cemetery above the falls holds their dead today. Miners established camps here to blast for silver. Mine tunnels enter the cliffs at several areas nearby.
The campground comes to a sudden end at the third falls, the single rush of Mooney, hurtling nearly 200 feet into space, a drop higher than Niagara. The water crashes into the pool far below. It looks like this is the end of the road. But a slim path winds and cuts its way through tunnels blasted into the tavertine walls. Chains and rods are strategically placed to give hand and footholds for the delicate way down. Spray keeps the path wet and slippery. It’s a memorable trip to the bottom.
These falls were called the Mother of the Waters by the native peoples. Daniel Mooney was amongst a group of prospectors exploring the canyon in 1880. He asked his mates to lower him on a rope so that he could prospect beyond the falls. The rope caught on the sharp rock with Mooney dangling below. As they sought to free the rope by raising and lowering it the rope frayed and broke, dropping Mooney to his death. His body lay there for ten months until his friends returned, built a wooden ladder and buried him in the travertine where he fell. So now it’s called Mooney Falls.
Beyond the falls the trail continues to the Colorado River. The trip to the river from the campground and back is a long day’s hike, 14 miles round trip. Three miles below Mooney there are a series of steep rapids called Beaver Falls. Here you enter Grand Canyon National Park. Near these falls the trail climbs the cliffs to a high ledge above the creek on the right side. Above the oasis you’re back in the desert. At the river the elevation is below 2,000 feet, in the Sonoran zone of cactus and mesquite. You have passed through spring and have found summer.
Spring break in Havasu Canyon is heavenly. Be sure to spend at least two nights. Three or four would be better. It’s a good trip for kids 12 or 13 years and older if reasonably fit. You can make arrangements to have your gear taken out by pack horse. Havasu is not a place for solitude, although you can find it beyond Mooney Falls. The trail to Supai is heavily used by horses and smells like it, too. There is more litter than I’d like to see. The campground can be very dusty as well. But there is no place else in America where aquamarine waters gush over red rock walls beneath a piercing blue sky shaded by the greenest of leaves. There is not a motor in earshot. The peace is effervescent. Even the dogs don’t bark.
IF YOU GO
Call for camping reservations: 928-448-2141 or 928-448-2121.
Entrance fees are $35 per person.
Campsites are $17 per person per night, children 12 or under, $8.50.
Environmental Care fee is $5 per group, refundable if you pack out a sack of trash.
50% down is required to make reservations. Credit Cards are accepted.
For more information, including the lodge and horses for riding or packing, see the Havasupai web site at www.havasupaitribe.com.
The store, cafe and post office accept cash only.
Grand Canyon Trail Guide: Havasu for $2.95 is excellent at www.grandcanyon.org under “trip planning”.
Highlights: An overnight circle-on-a-stick backpack into the high alpine country we see on the far southwestern horizon from Cheyenne, Wyoming: the southern Medicine Bows. Here, above tree line, twelve pristine lakes sparkle in the shadow of North and South Rawah Peaks. Rawah is pronounced Ray’-wah and is a native American word meaning “wild place.”
Location: The Medicine Bow range south of the border in Colorado
Elevations: West Branch trailhead 8, 580’; high point at Grassy Pass, 11,220’
Distance: 19.3 miles without the spur trails
Maps: Rawah Wilderness by Mountain Jay Media; Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forests; USGS quad Rawah Lakes; Roosevelt National Forest pamphlet “Rawah Wilderness”
Guide: Raymond Ave’s Backcountry Adventure Guide to Colorado’s Rawah Wilderness
is an excellent guide to it’s trails, history and geography.
Trailhead: From Cheyenne, take I-80 west 48 miles to Laramie exit 311. Go southwest on WY 230 24 miles to Woods Landing. Then take WY 10 south 34 miles (In Colorado it is County Road 103) until you come to the well-marked West Branch parking area. (An alternative would be to go to Ft. Collins, go west on CO 14 then north on CR 103.) Continue reading →
Highlights: A fine spring hike to summit the granite crag overlooking Horsetooth Reservoir, Ft. Collins and the endless plains. During a moist spring, wildflowers are abundant.
Location: West of Ft. Collins, CO, about 50 miles south of Cheyenne, WY.
Elevations: Trailhead, 5,600’, Top of the Rock, 6,780’.
Distance: 1.7 miles one way
Map and Guide: “Colorado State Parks: Lory” pamphlet. The map and fine trail descriptions are also online at http://parks.state.co.us/Parks/Lory/Trails/LoryTrails.htm
Trailhead: Take I-25 south from Cheyenne, exiting at Wellington. Follow Colorado 1 west and south, making a right on N. College (US 287). In just 1 ½ miles go straight to Laporte. (From here you can follow the “Lory State Park” signs except for the last turn. That sign is gone.) Turn left at Vern’s Liquor (52E), then left at the Bellevue Store (23) then 1.4 miles and right on 25G. Continue 1.6 miles, turning left into the park. After paying your entrance fee at the visitor center continue south through the park to the last picnic area.
The Hike: This popular trail enters a narrow cactus and yucca strewn rocky gulch. It’s a gateway into another world. The little canyon opens to a broad swale of grass rimmed by stately ponderosas. Arthur’s Rock towers above like a crenellated battlement, guarding the grounds. The well built trail follows several switchbacks, easing the climb.
Crows, magpies and squirrels make a fuss as you continue up. The desert seems far behind as hikers take comfort in the shade of the great pines and junipers. A few trails branch off but every junction is as well marked as any you’ll ever find.
As you come to the rock you’ll find the route leads straight up a steep, rocky draw for the final 1/10 mile. Gasping for breath, hikers earn the right the stand on the top.
The craggy pink granite offers a broad summit on which to look out over the blue waters of Horsetooth, past the great hogbacks and the city of Ft. Collins to the eternal plains. To the south is Horsetooth Rock, standing about 500’ higher.
If you have time and energy the Timber Trail beckons, leading from the base of Arthur’s up the ridge line into, you guessed it, the timber.
Pointers: Entrance fee is $6 per vehicle. Pit toilets and picnic tables are available at the trailhead, water at the visitor’s center. Dogs, on leash, are welcome.
Lory State Park is a gem with 2,400 acres and 20 miles of trails. If that is not enough, Horsetooth Mountain Park adjoins on the south with 2,711 more acres and 29 trail miles. Some, like Arthur’s, are for foot traffic only. The others are open to mountain bikes and horses.
Highlights: This hike is a resplendent walk along the Continental Divide Trail where it weaves together a succession of verdant meadows, each a vast, rich, colorful carpet of wildflowers rimmed with pines, rising and falling along the gentle crest of the southern Sierra Madre Mountain range.
Location: West of Encampment, Wyoming in the Huston Park Wilderness area of the Medicine Bow National Forest.
Elevations: Red Mountain Trailhead, 10,067′; high point, 10,500′, Pipeline Trailhead, 9, 190′/
Distance: Entire trail through Huston Park Wilderness is 13.5 miles one way. The hike is out and back as far as you wish to go.
Maps: Forest Service brochures “Medicine Bow National Forest Continental Divide National Scenic Trail” and “Huston Park Encampment River Wilderness Trail Map”, Medicine Bow National Forest Map, USGS quads Red Mountain, Solomon Creek
Guide:Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest – Third Edition
Trailhead: It is a 148 mile drive from Cheyenne, taking I-80 west to Laramie, exit 311, then southwest on WY 230 into Colorado (where it is CO 127), north on CO 125 back into Wyoming (where it continues as 230 again) to Riverside. At Riverside, turn west on WY 70 through Encampment, continuing 12 miles. Just before you reach the Battle Pass rest area there is a dirt road on the left with a simple CDT marker. With a four-wheel drive vehicle you may want to turn south on this road continuing a rough half mile. With a passenger car, park at the paved Battle Pass pull out.
The Hike: The trail begins on the south side of WY 70 in the forest between Doane and Red Mountains. It is well marked with CDT posts and is easy to follow. You’ll travel along the side of Red Mountain where the trail splits, the right fork leading to Baby Lake. Take the left turn to Huston Park, staying on the CDT, following the old Fireline Stock Drive route. Suddenly the trail emerges into the first big meadow, Long Park.
In early July the meadows are a great sweep of purple elephantheads, dotted with yellow Goldeneye and White Mules Ears. Red paintbrush and blue lupines border in the dry edges. The trail tries to stay high to keep your feet dry but it can be moist and spongey.
From Long Park the trail gently climbs, crossing the headwaters of the North Fork of the Encampment River, over a saddle into the even larger Standard Park. If you continue past the junction of the Roaring Fork Little Snake River trail you’ll reach Huston Park itself.
Huston Park is named for Al Huston. Al came to Wyoming in 1857 when only 17. By the 1870′s he was a rancher, prospector, but most of all a premium hunting guide, leading English noblemen to elk, deer, antelope and bear. He established a permanent camp near Baby Lake. Jim Baker, the famous trapper and scout called Huston, “The one crack game shot of the world, excepting none.” The western slope of the Sierra Madres continues to offer prime elk and deer hunting.
The trail continues along the divide, gradually dropping in elevation until the Pipeline Trailhead, at the end of FS 809, which is off of FS 550 west of Hog Park Reservoir
Pointers: Beautiful campsites can be made at any forest edge. Water is plentiful in the small streams that cross the parks. This is a favorite trail for horsemen, although it is better to wait until August when the meadows are dry.
Four fine trails branch away from the CDT, Baby Lake, Roaring Fork Little Snake River, Verde Mine and Green Mountain, each leading to a Forest Road. Yet making a loop trip in the Huston Park Wilderness is really impossible. The views are so good though that an “out and back” is worth it. A July hike will fill your senses with the color green as you may have never seen it: rich, vibrant, luscious, a living emerald.
“Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success.” That was Ernest Shackleton’s ad in 1907. This one, run by Backpacker magazine last February sort of reminded me of it.
“Want to Make Hiking History? Join our team to create the first definite Continental Divide Trail (CDT) map…the most challenging and remote of America’s big three long-distance paths, tracing the crest of one wild range after another….we’ll pick about 200 applicants…for a week of hiking and mapping.” I applied, along with 3,000 others.
Why? I’m still wondering. I guess at 54 I’m not yet to that age where you dream to do something but have the wisdom to think better of it. Hoping, I guess, for some adventure and for a chance to contribute to those heroic through-hikers who would take on 3,100 miles of the toughest trail in one season.
The CDT was authorized by congress in 1978. But nearly 30 years later the “trail” is really a route, following gravel roads, two-tracks, single track, and no track– just blazes cut on trees or cairns laid across the desert. 70% is considered “usable” . Adding to the confusion are the many unofficial routes, presented in guide books and websites as superior for one reason or another, usually with better access to water, stores or scenery.
Backpacker’s plan is a marvel. Anyone could get a $300 GPS unit, go the web site and download a free track of the entire 3,100 mile trail, complete with way-points noting intersections, water sources, scenic campsites and vistas, onto a dime-sized disc. Checking in with the unit, a hiker will be able to march off through five states, ending up in Canada. No maps or books necessary. Just rub the little genie any time you’re confused. It will tell you just how lost you are. And where to go next.
The contest? I won. I won a week’s no-expenses-paid vacation. No food, no lodging and no potable water, with four guys I had never met, to mountains in the Gila National Forest, New Mexico I had never heard of. Some of us are just lucky.
I was to be the erstwhile leader of team NM3, to be known as the Gila Monsters. The five of us were introduced to each other and to our sponsors on a cacophonous conference call. We learned that team NM4 had been chased by a tornado, bunched under a tarp against the hail and wind. They said they enjoyed every minute of it. Hmmm. We learned that NM2 had mysteriously disbanded, walking off the El Malpais lava beds in five different directions after one day.
The assignment? Map a 64 mile segment, starting on 9,695 Mangas Mountain, noting anything anybody would want to know, ending at Coyote Peak stock tank. Take a lot of good pictures and some video. Then upload it into the computer.
I was concerned about the water, the distance, the altitude for those flying in from sea level, and the heat. I was especially concerned about the company. Who were these guys? I’d seen backpackers who had been friends nearly kill each other after three days. These were strangers. My wife told me not to worry. “These will just be weird outdoor hiker people like you.” Now I was really worried.
I picked up Matt Eldred at the Albuquqere airport. Young, wiry and fit, from upstate New York, he had just graduated with a Bachelor‘s in Survey Technology. Has hiked all over the Adirondacks. He knew what he was doing.
We circled around to the car rental and met Joe Walker from Connecticut. Joe had finished a tour in the US Air Force, hiking with an army infantry division into Iraq. Joe’s job was to mark targets by laser for fighter jets to strike by missile. Up to any challenge, always smiling, a rock climber, a scuba diver, Joe was earning his degree in Business from the University of Connecticut. He could do anything
We waited for Michael Grosh. He hopped of the shuttle bus, fedora pulled down, silver grey beard, sky blue eyes, trecking poles in hand. This guy hiked in style. Michael is a tug boat captain from Maryland, pushing barges up and down coastal waterways. Fifty, he hikes sections of the Appalachian Trail every summer. Well seasoned.
This was the first any of them had been “out west”. This would not be the great divide I would have liked to show them.
After three hours of driving, from bustling Albuquqere to small town Socorro, to the ghost towns of Old Horse Springs and New Horse Springs we crawled up the gravel to meet Mike Holmes at Valle Tio Vences (Uncle Vince‘s Valley), in the lap of Mangas. Mike had driven his old pickup from northern California. He’s a 20 year Forest Service veteran, the Forest Fuels Officer for Lassen National Forest. He has been on fire crews all over the west. Forty-nine, bearded, he had a companionable fire ready for us as we unloaded our gear and took in the mountain air.
The Valle pushes up towering ponderosa pines that shelter a floor of golden grass. A spring filled a metal stock tank with cool water. Beautiful and serene.
The predawn howling woke us out of that. I was up to catch the golden glow when the vibrating calls hit. This was no coyote. Mexican grey wolves had been released in the area and this one was calling to see who was around. Behind me one answered to report his position. I ran toward the first and closest howl, up the slope, pausing to peer on to the bench. There he was, shaggy grey coat, head down, green eyes making contact with mine. Then gone. We heard them twice more as we breakfasted and packed. Welcome to the Gila.
We drove to our starting point, the mountain’s summit and began a routine. Matt sprung ahead, trecking poles tapping the gravel as he scouted for trail markers, an uncoiled release of energy. Joe effortlessly joined in, his GPS unit locked on to satellites overhead making the official record of our tracks. Michael eased into his well tested, long-trail groove. Mike generally took the rear, keeping a backup track and set of notes. I went back and forth, taking photos and making some conversation. We would spread out, then contract at the intersections, spreading and contracting, for what would become 78 or so miles in six days.
The first day was nearly all downhill, following gravel, then a dirt road. The primary water in this country is held in “tanks”, small check dams of earth placed to block draws, the resulting pond filled with fine clay to keep the volcanic rock from slurping each drop of moisture. Elk, deer and cattle bathe in them regularly. The tanks are thick with mud, and algae, some with minnows and water dogs, all with a certain diversity of microscopic life. Yechh.
Eventually we would be pumping the sludge through filters that would clog after one quart. A tank touted in the guide books looked especially bad. A cow had collapsed at water’s edge, its skeletal grimace turned to the sky in a last plea for mercy.
We noted each tank by coordinates and name. Many held the distinction of G.C. # 1 – 6. G.C.? “Ghastly Cow?” “Green Color”? “Gross Crap?
As the route descended the ponderosas were smaller and were joined by Douglas firs and groves of Gambel oaks. Further down we’d leave the shade behind, moving into a spacious park of pinon pine and alligator juniper, dry grasses and cactus. While the nighttime temps were in the 30’s, daytime sun would bring on high 80’s.
I began to appreciate my companions. Mike lived to prove Murphy wrong, the Murphy of Murphy’s law fame, “Everything that can go wrong, will.” Mike’s mind, step by step, thought of all that could go wrong, and step by step, prevented it. I have always been more of a partner with Murphy, sort of helping things along.
He revealed that he had come the day before and cached water at all of our road crossings. He had packed, and cached, spare batteries by the dozen. Need markers for the maps? “What color would you like?” Highlighters, he had those, too. Rubber bands? “What size? “
On an especially hot day, after we all had been drinking tepid grey water, our mouths tasting of slime, he pulled out a plastic lemon for a squirt of refreshment. I really began to appreciate this guy. I just regret that I didn’t ask him for more odd stuff. What all was in that compressed pack of his, the smallest of all, everything rolled, folded and placed in order?
Toward the end day one, while we rested in the shade, a woman came riding out of the trees, the upright posture and grace of an accomplished rider, leading a mule. She was beautiful and packed a .38 on her hip. This was Erin Zweiner, 21 years old, setting out to be the first person to ride the entire trail in one season. She was a little behind schedule. Her dog was lost. The horse and mule had repeatedly escaped their hobbles at night, hiding through the day, letting themselves be found only at night when they knew she wouldn’t be riding. In a couple of days we would know how they felt. Seeing her determination, I think she has a good chance of making it. (Follow her progress at www.ridethegreatdivide.com.)
The next day brought a long climb, 2000 feet up Waggontongue mountain. An important water source, Damien Spring, had to be located as well. The spring, noted as “the most reliable source of water” in the whole segment, was in a deep volcanic gully off trail, and after seven years of drought was only a worthless trickle. Behind schedule now, the jeep road ended and a small trail began, marked only with blazes cut into the pines.
We came to an old burn with trees like pick up sticks. The trail tread gone, the markings down. We began what was to become the routine. Four guys scouting ahead for any sign of trail, one waiting with the GPS for a call to come on to the next sign. This was not hiking, it was a progressive treasure hunt, going from blaze, to cut log, to cut branch, to blaze. No trail had been built on the ground, just a route marked on the trees 30 years ago.
This hunt continued on, up and down the spine of the Tularosa Range, a range made of bowling ball size rocks, tucked in tufts of grass, all waiting to turn your ankle. Three long days of it. Suddenly a hiker emerged from a narrows, making great time. A through-hiker who didn’t have much time to talk. He noted that another hiker had seen a bear as big as an angus, not far ahead.
Matt continued to keep careful records, drawing each intersection with precision and skill, maintaining a steadiness and discipline at the end of a 12 hour day when I was having trouble putting two words together.
Coming down from a ridge to a crossroad we spotted two men at our water cache. To our relief they were caching their own. Mat Matson of Rotary International introduced himself. At age 69 he is doing a 735 mile through-hike of New Mexico, with plans to do Colorado next summer, then Wyoming and Montana. He is raising money to fund trail crews, 3.1 million dollars to be exact. Matson is passionate about getting young people off their joy sticks and out of doors.
Matson introduced the quiet man at his side, Pem Dorjee Sherpa, a two time summiter of Mt. Everest, who became well known for marrying his wife, Moni, on the summit. He was serving as a sherpa for Matson, carrying 80 pound loads. Pem urged us to come to Nepal, to secure his firm as a guide. He would take us to the Everest base camp. After checking it out, maybe we could climb Everest on the next rip.
Joe glommed on to every word. He never tired. His fun was in challenge. He was only disappointed if we did something an easy way. I think if we had asked him to carry one of us out it would have only made it more fun for him. Huaa!, heard, understood and acknowledged. Joe will love Everest.
The second to the last day we lost the route. We had gone down a draw when we should be up on the ridge. Matt and Joe trotted up the steep slope. There were cairns up there. I was carrying the GPS at this point and went back up the draw to find the turn. I never did. Going out on the ridge I’d locate a cairn but couldn’t see another one. My route on the GPS map looks like one of those spirals the monks walk in to find tranquility. I did not find tranquility. About a 1000 feet below and a mile away the group spotted me and signaled with a mirror. Time to come in, route or no route.
The last day was co-incidentally “National Trails Day.“ It proved to be the most pleasant section, a blazed trail with good tread over O-bar-O mountain, then a long descent through the pinions and junipers. We had seen elk a few times but only as they charged off through the forests away from us. These didn’t hear us in the grass. We were able to get close before the lead cow raised her nose to the air, and got that confused look. I didn’t think we smelled that bad. And then they bolted, flushing two calves out of the junipers to join them.
Plodding on to the vehicles, we realize we hadn’t found Coyote Stock Tank, our official end. Fanning out as scouts, we spied its muddy waters, tagged it into the GPS. Hikers in the future following their GPS screens will go right to it.
There is something about the CDT that does instill big dreams. For the lucky, those dreams stir an inner energy. A challenge is worth doing. Nothing is impossible. The trail that is not yet fully a trail is an Everest in its own way. May crews work on it for the next 30 years. No matter how much work is done, it will never be easy.
To those contests winners who will continue the mapping this summer, I salute you. Crews will come through Wyoming in July.
Few could spare the five months it takes to through-hike. But why not hike a segment? A nice stretch comes through Huston Park in the Sierra Madres, about 2 ½ hours from Cheyenne. It, unlike most of the New Mexico trail, is well marked with plenty of flowing water. You just might get hooked by what’s around the next corner and become a section hiker, finishing the CDT over a life time.
My worries about those strangers? Maybe Shackleton said that best, too. “There are lots of good things in the world, but I’m not sure that comradeship is not the best of them all.”
For lots more photos see:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/54936422@N00/sets/72157600337579194/
Highlights: This is the mountain that everyone sees but few explore, the eastern most spur of the Medicine Bow Range. While from the road the mountain simply looks like a narrow ridge the top is a pleasant surprise, a long basin with flowing streams, wetlands and floating mat bogs. The 19,238 acres of Sheep Mountain were designated a National Wildlife Refuge on August 8, 1924 to preserve our elk population. It is roadless and the trail is the longest hiking trail in the Wyoming side of the Medicine Bow range. Mountain bikes are allowed.
Location: West of Laramie, east of Centennial.
Elevations: Sheep Mountain trailhead (south) 7840’, high point 9480’, north access route 7700’.
Distance: Roughly 15 miles from end to end.
Maps: USGS Rex Lake (north), Lake Owen (south); Medicine Bow National Forest Map, Medicine Bow “Sheep Mountain” pamphlet.
Guide:
Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest – Third Edition, Erik Molvar’s Wild Wyoming
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Trailhead: From Cheyenne take I-80 to Laramie, Exit 311, go southwest on WY 230 for 23 miles, turn north on Fox Creek Road (Forest Service 311). There are three southern trailheads. Fence Creek is first, at 1.4 miles, Sheep Mountain Trailhead (with the largest parking area) at 2.3 miles and the Forbes Game and Fish Trailhead (best for horses) at 5.5 miles. The Forbes trail is closed until July 1st to protect elk calving. The North access, which only the crazy or the seriously athletic would want to ascend, is marked by a sign on the fence on WY 11, 1.9 miles south of WY 130.
The hike:From the Sheep Mountain Trailhead, your hike skirts a stand of trees and then moves into a dry open sagebrush hillside, a favored site of many wildflowers. You’ll cross a two track and some underground piping. Keep your eyes out for posts marking the trail. It can be a hot climb, but it doesn’t last long. After the first mile it levels out for another one mile, and then climbs steeply into the refreshing shade of lodgepole pines. But before entering the dark forest, get a good view of the Snowy Range and the Laramie Plain. They’ll be hidden away in this high sanctuary. The trail joins Fence Creek and levels out for miles of comfortable walking among the trees, along the sides of bogs and the trickling headwaters of streamlets.
The mountain is an uplift of ancient Precambrian granite, the same pink, coarse grained Sherman type rock we’re familiar with from Pole Mountain. At the north end though, the rock changes, showing an even older, darker granite and hornblende gneiss. There is a high point of marble off the trail to the west.
Most hikers will make a day of Sheep Mountain, turning back at the point that seems long enough for them. A few will want to cover the whole 15 miles with a friend, making a route down the plunging sides of the steep draws, 1700 vertical feet to a stashed car. I lost the trail on a high, narrow ridge and used a GPS to find my way down. If you’re going to do it, stay above all fences to avoid trespassing on private property.
One time I was there I met up with a father and son making a nice one night backpack trip of the mountain. As I rushed to get off the trail by dark I envied them. There are a number of nice campsites on top, established by hunters. If you’re camping please use established fire rings. From the north end you can see the Snowy Range, Rocky Mountain National Park and the peaks of the Rawah Wilderness. Such a tranquil place so close to home.
Pointers: While in the open sage keep your eyes out for the Colorado Tansy-aster (Machaeranthera Coloradoensis), a pink, rose or purple ray flower with golden centers, sprouting from a grayish white herb with coarsely toothed leaves. It’s considered a sensitive species, imperiled due to its rarity.
Do you have a GPS? I placed a geocache at N 41 15.557’, W 106 02.699’. Good luck! It’s at elevation 9,445’. When you find it, log in, take a trinket and leave a trinket.
Visit the Chameleon, the ruler of Curt Gowdy State Park. You’ll find him and Hidden Falls by taking Crow Creek Trail, looping back on Mo’Rocka.
Highlights: A lovely little spring or late season trek following Middle Crow Creek to its mysterious Hidden Falls. An optional loop back climbs to the plateau where a great megalith–the Chameleon–rules the countryside. At sunset you’re likely to hear coyotes singing their lullabies.
Location: 25 miles west of Cheyenne off Happy Jack Road
Elevations: Trailhead at Granite Springs Reservoir, 7, 240’; Hidden Falls, 7, 434’; Plateau top, 7,520’.
Distance: 4 miles to the Falls and back on Crow Creek trail, 4.4 miles with loop using Mo’ Rocka trail.
Map: Plastic reference maps are fastened to posts along the trail. The “Curt Gowdy State Park Trails” brochure is on the web at http://wyoparks.state.wy.us/Site/SiteInfo.asp?siteID=4. While useful, it is outdated as more trails have been added and all trail names have changed.
Trailhead: Take Happy Jack Road (Wyo 210) west 25 miles to Curt Gowdy State Park entrance, turning left into the park. Past the Fee Booth the park road crosses the inlet of the reservoir. Park on the dirt lot to the right just before the inlet. Walk along the road, crossing the water. The trailhead is on the right.
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Professional education took me to Palm Springs, California in January, 2009. My friend Dan spent time in the area while in the Air Force. “It’s ugly” is all he said. Dan loves granite peaks and pines. But Dan, I don’t think you made it to any of the Indian Canyons.
The broad Coachella valley is dry. The Indio hills to the north, the Santa Rosa mountains to the south are hot, sere, ragged ranges ripping into this Sonoran desert sky. They are the earth’s angry cry, unwilling rock moved by unrelenting earthquakes.
The San Andreas fault transects the valley. Here the great Pacific Plate forces itself upon the resisting North American Plate. Unforgiven, each injury to earth remains raw, open and exposed. Harsh to the eye and to the touch.
Yet deep below the earth where the faults open, waters escape, rising to the surface. Springing, pooling, overflowing to rivulets, gathering to streams, creating an explosion of life. Verdant green midst stark brown. Birdsong in an expanse of windblown silence.
Each oasis is noted by its grove of desert fan palms. These wild fellows, most robed in decades of brown fans, are monumental, often weighing 6,000 pounds each. Up to 60 feet tall, some up to 250 years old, they stand calmly as old friends, or perhaps families, like the Indian clans that once lived among them.
Sunrise winds rustle and rattle their cloaks, joining with the splash of water and the cascade song of the canyon wren, music of a peaceful heart.
The largest of these palm oases is just minutes from downtown Palm Springs, south on Palm Canyon Drive on the Agua Caliente Indian Reservation.
An entrance fee of $8 for adults, $6 for seniors and $4 for children opens a world of hiking and equestrian trails. Some are easy and short, others tough and long. Picnic areas in the dancing shade of the palms are available for those who don’t want to walk at all. Your fee includes a good map and the trails are well marked.
Gates are open 8 to 5, seven days a week. No camping allowed. There are three canyons to explore: Andreas, Murray and the longest, Palm. Since water flows vary seasonally it is best to ask the friendly rangers which canyon might be best for the day, your interests, time and abilities.
The fringe-toed lizard has given people another natural respite. To protect this threatened little dune dweller a 23,000 acre reserve was pulled together, setting aside the last 5% of the valley’s active dunes, along with several palm oases. The Coachella Valley Preserve is west of the city of Thousand Palms on Thousand Palms Road. Entrance is free and hikers can come in at first light or sunset to capture photos of those magic golden moments. Maps are given from the Palmhouse visitor center. The McCallum and Pushawalla groves are especially fine.
Well Dan, next time business or family take you near Palm Springs pull off the great grey interstate. I hope it‘s winter. January‘s 70 degree days and 45 degrees nights take the chill out of a Wyoming boy‘s bones. Check out one of these oases and tell me that Palm Springs is ugly.
New Food for Hikers and Hunters: Pouches is the Word
I guess I’m kind of a traditionalist. I’ve been eating the same stuff on the trail and in camp for thirty years. Freeze dried meals. Crackers. Salami. Cereal. Cheese. Some jerky. Raisins. A Snickers bar being the big treat. That is, until last spring.
We were mapping a portion of the Continental Divide trail in New Mexico. Matt was a young buck from the east with all the best gear. Joe, a rock, newly back from service with the infantry in Iraq. Grizzled Michael, a 25 year veteran of the Forest Service, fighting fires across the west.
Sitting down to eat was like opening your brown bag in elementary school. As I unwrapped mine I glanced around. What do they got?
Man. They had stuff I’d never seen. By day two I was salivating over it. By day three it was clear there was going to be no trading. I carried no food currency. At day five I was asking questions. Almost all of this grub came from a grocery store. It was not only better than my lunch, it was probably cheaper.
So here’s what’s new in outdoor, lightweight, belly-filling food. Pouches is the word.
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The crowds at the Grand Canyon can scramble a person’s brain. There you are, wanting to take in nature’s big spectacle, having driven all those miles, stuck in traffic, gasping fumes, bus loads of foreign tourists getting their pictures taken, no places to park. Your bambinos just want to get out of the car. Your wife yells watch out for that deer. This is not the vacation you had in mind.
Four million people visit the Grand Canyon every year, most of those on the South rim, most of those between June and August. That’s a lot of people. The North Rim is quieter. And off season is an improvement. But what’s a person to do if your trips are planned around the school’s calendar?
Do you have an SUV or 4-wheel drive? If so, here’s an answer. The tourist side of the Canyon runs along Arizona 64, Desert View Drive, from the Desert View watchtower, past Grand Canyon Village and on to Hermit’s Rest (via the Shuttle Bus). But that’s not even half of the South Rim. The Canyon continues to the west for miles and miles without an inch of asphalt.
So how do you get there? There is one road, Forest Service 328. It’s dirt. It’s rutted. It’s bad. And for that reason, you can have it all to yourself. If you are accustomed to 4 wheel drive roads in the Snowies, there is nothing to it.
But what about the scenery? At the turn of the century, before Teddy Roosevelt got involved, there were three tourist camps. One at Grand View, one at the site of Grand Canyon Village, and one run by W.W. Bass at the Grand Scenic Divide. Bass’s site was considered by those who knew the scenic heart of the Grand Canyon.
The view at Havasupai Point faces a long ridge extending below, called the Grand Scenic Divide. To the right is the new Canyon with its fabled buttes, temples, towers and buttresses, incised by a succession of side canyons. To the left is the old Canyon, simpler, broader, with an expansion of space, long walls across the river. It appears brighter, the colors more vivid. With a slow turn of the head you can take it in. Alone. In silence.
When the railroad was built and the roads constructed this once busy tourist hub was passed by. All that remains are the low rubble of foundations, a couple of abandoned cisterns, piles of cans. And the view.
There are no t-shirt shops, no ice-cream for sale. There are no privies, no water. No guard rails. Just a couple of picnic tables.
Is this your kind of place? If so it will take 90 minutes of driving to cover 30 miles of dirt road, first across Coconino National Forest, then a wedge of the Havasupai Reservation, and on into the National Park.
If you come in from the south, from Flagstaff or Williams, go through Tusayan, get gas and any supplies you might need. About a mile north of Tusayan look for Forest Service 328 and a sign for Apache Stables. (If you reach the south entrance station, you went too far). Turn left, to the West. Soon the road will cross the railroad tracks.
Just stay on 328, following signs to “Pasture Wash”. The road goes from good to bad and from bad to worse and from worse to terrible. Reasonably high clearance is needed. It takes you through miles of “pygmy forest”, juniper and pinon with occasional expanses of sage brush meadow.
You will reach a gate as you enter the land of the Havasupai. Most likely someone will come out of a simple cabin and require a trespass fee of $25. Have cash in hand. If not, just let yourself through. They may catch you on the way out.
After you cross into the park you’ll notice the deserted Pasture Wash ranger station. You are getting close.
Then you are there, at Bass Camp. The yawning earth spread in all its majesty. There may be a few cars. This is the trailhead for the South Bass trail, a gateway into the inner canyon backcountry.
Deep below is the red sandstone Esplanade, supporting the “White Mountain”, Mount Heuthawali, before dropping off to the abyss. Sit a spell. Nobody will bother you here.
To reach the Great Scenic Divide, drive back up the road about a half a mile and turn to the east. In a few miles you’ll again come to the rim, following the road north coming to Havasupai Point. On the far side of canyon is “Camelot”, King Arthur’s Castle and Guinevere’s , towering over Mordred’s abyss.
If you wish to spend the day no permits are required. You can walk along the rim, sit in the silence and watch the sun set, drinking in the changing colors and rising shadows amongst the layers. Condors may circle over head.
You may want to hike down the South Bass Trail to the Esplande. On the hike, it will get hotter and as you go down. Carry plenty of water. There is none below. The trail is quite good. In the Toroweap layer there are a few Anasazi graneries along the way and many fossil brachiopods in the rocks. The Esplanade is a magical terrace, with the abyss below and the rims high above. Going down to it and back is at least a four hour walk.
Camping at your vehicle is allowed at three sites, two near Havasuapi Point (use areas SE1 and 2) and one at Bass Camp (SE3), but permits are required and must be obtained in advance so that your place and privacy is reserved. To get them contact the Backcountry Information Center at (928) 638-7875 or at www.nps.gov/grca. The cost is $10 per permit plus $5 per person per night.
BURNING BLISTERS
Nothing can turn the Sound of Music into the Batan Death March faster than blisters. The sure footed hunter or hiker can be reduced to a tender foot, limping, hobbling home.
The scientific formula to produce a blister goes something like this: Friction + Pressure + Heat + Moisture + Tenderness = Blisters. In other words, increasing any of the above, friction, pressure, heat, moisture and tenderness will increase the odds of blister formation.
So what can be done?
1. Decrease friction with shoes that fit well, tied properly. The heel should be snug enough to stop slipping, possibly using a runner‘s loop at the ankles. The padding of good socks helps. Known trouble spots can be covered with moleskin in advance. Duct tape is OK if nothing else is around but it doesn’t stick too well as feel sweat.
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Highlights: A short, pleasant, early season jaunt to the top “tooth” of this Front Range hogback, giving generous 360 degree views of mighty peaks, great plains and deep blue waters.
Location: Just west of Ft. Collins, Colorado.
Elevations: Trailhead at 5765`, Horsetooth Rock, 7256`.
Distance: Approximately 5 miles round trip, about a 3 hour walk.
Guides: Larimer County’s “Horsetooth Mountain Open Space” brochure; Caryn & Peter Boddie’s Hiking Colorado II.
Getting There: From Cheyenne, WY, take I-25 south to Harmony Road exit (#265), then west on Harmony. Past the intersection with Taft Hill Road follow the signs to “Horsetooth Mountain Park“. Harmony becomes CR 38E, climbing up to the Horsetooth Dam and then around the south end of the reservoir. A large, well marked and well appointed parking area is on the right, about 58.5 miles from Cheyenne. Daily permit is $6. Toilets, water, picnic tables and free maps can be found there.
The Hike: Two trails begin at the north side of the parking lot. Take the one on the right, signed to Horsetooth Rock. There are what at first appears to be a bewildering number of trails in this 2,711 acre preserve. Thankfully they are very well marked with steel posts.
The trail climbs up a grassy switchback then turns into a delicious grove of ponderosas, shading the trail. Rose granite boulders and formations begin and continue to the big teeth themselves. The rock is liberally spiced with quartz and mica. Scattered blooms color the floor, including purple pasque flowers
For a short section the trail is shared with mountain bikes but it’s wide and your shouldn’t have a problem.
The trail climbs to parallel the great jaw bone with its granite teeth. It was named by early trappers. But where trappers saw a jaw, Native Americans saw a heart, the heart of the Great Red Warrior who, after a long battle, was killed by the Great Black Warrior. Toward the north end of the rocks the trail turns west into a gap. From there it’s hand and toe crawl and scramble up to the high point. Some may feel safer taking the view from the gap but the route up isn’t too bad.
The view is magnificent. The white peaks of Rocky Mountain National Park are to the west. On a clear day Pikes Peak is visible far to the south. And to the east is the deep blue water of Horsetooth Reservoir, the city of Ft. Collins and the endless expanse of the prairie.
There are several options for the hike back. Studying the map will show a loop on the Audra Culver trail, or the longer loop taking the Wathen trail to Spring Creek to Horsetooth Falls. The Falls trail is popular but don’t expect much water this late in the season. Depending on time and energy there are many trails here, 29 miles to be exact, and then there is adjacent Lory State Park with its 20 trail miles.
Pointers: I should comment on the wildlife. There are many primates here, homo sapiens, of all shapes and sizes. Young of the species enjoy taking parents. Couples saunter. Some jog. Many young beautiful women and men take to the paths. Dogs, too, are prevalent, little and big, leading their people, little and big, on leashes. A sign warned of snakes and bears but sadly I didn’t see any.
This is a friendly, sociable place to stretch legs and expand lungs with many fine restaurants to quench a thirst and satisfy an appetite on the way home. Keep in mind that it may be considerably warmer than Cheyenne.
Highlights: Stunning views of four great cirques, carved side by side to crown a resplendent meadow, and higher up, two sparkling glacial lakes. This is a 9 on the 10 point “wow” scale!
Location: About 90 miles south west of Cheyenne, south from the Poudre River Canyon in Comanche Peak Wilderness.
Elevations: Trailhead at 8930`, Cirque Meadows, 9790’, Emmaline Lake, 10,988’
Distance: 3.5 miles to Cirque Meadows, 2.4 more miles to Emmaline Lake.
Maps: Arapaho and Roosevelt National Forests; USGS quads Comanche Peak and Pingree Park; Trail Illustrated Rocky Mountain National Park
Getting There: From Cheyenne, WY, take I-25 south to exit 278 at Wellington. Follow Colorado 1 west and south, turning right (north) on US 287. Turn left (west) on Colorado 14 heading up the Cache la Poudre canyon. After 25.7 miles turn left toward Pingree Park on Larimer County 63E. Continue 15.1 miles on this well graded gravel road to Tom Bennett campground. Turn right here (FS 145), going 3/10 of a mile, past the campground, to the Mummy Pass – Emmaline Lake trailhead. Park and hike from there. Four wheel drive rigs can drive up the trail but only for a very rough half mile.
The Hike: This trek is best thought of in two parts. The first is pleasant, well graded 3.5 mile walk up to Cirque Meadows following the tread of an old logging road. Fourteen years ago the Hourglass fire swept the lower areas, signaling a race between aspens and ponderosa pines for the sunlight. Wildflowers abound in this sunny section. Down to your left is the picturesque Pingree Park campus of CSU.
Past the burn spruce and firs dominate and the shade is welcome. Log bridges cross Fall Creek, followed by a turn off to Mummy Pass and the northern reaches of Rocky Mountain National Park. Stay to the right.
As the trail reaches Cirque Meadows the sky opens to reveal the majestic tiara of great cirques, high granite walls painted with permanent snow fields. Fall Mountain is the left hand bookend of these cliffs, Comanche Peak the right. The meadows are marsh this time of year, cut by the broad serpentine meanders of Fall Creek.
There are seven primitive campsites spaciously placed around the meadow in the pines. Fires are allowed, season permitting, but there are no toilets or potable water. The remains of a logging camp can be found at the end of the road on the left.
The trail to Emmaline Lake is on the right, across the bridge. While the first part of this hike is a walk in the park, this second section is a tough climb, clamber, scramble and slog. The waters of Fall Creek and its tributaries rush all around. I counted 15 single log bridges. There are countless dead falls and blow downs to climb over and around. Not a place for short pants.
The last mile is steep and eyes need to be focused cairn by cairn to follow the route up and over the rocks. The reward? Two stunning lakes nestled in the glacial moraine, Cirque Lake, and the higher, Emmaline Lake. The shore lines are rock gardens, brightened with the miniature bouquets of the tundra. A water fall plunges from Emmaline. It’s breath taking in more ways than one.
Pointers: I suppose the most enjoyable way to take in this grandeur is to backpack the short distance to Cirque Meadows, spend the night and enjoy the view. Sunrise is really special.
While there are four campsites further up the trail they offer no vistas and camping is not allowed at Emmaline. The next morning scramble up the Emmaline trail free of pack, take in the wonder, and then hike down to get your gear and out to your vehicle by afternoon. Dinner on the deck at Mishawaka along the Poudre is always memorable.
Cirque and Emmaline Lakes host book trout and cutthroat can be found in Emmaline as well.
Some may want to camp from the car at the Tom Bennett campground and day hike to the meadows and possibly the lakes. There is a $10 fee per night here, providing pit toilets, picnic tables and fire rings in the trees along the South Fork of the Cache la Poudre River. No potable water. The area is a trailhead for several other notable hikes: Stormy Peaks Pass, Mummy Pass, Comanche Lake and Timberline Lake.
Hike of the Week: Mysterious Albany Trail
Highlights: This is a secret trail, not shown on any maps and without trailhead markings, yet someone has blazed most of it with white triangles. It leads to crystalline beaver ponds, up weathered granite hills to sweeping views of the Laramie Plains, and marches on to overlooks down into Hells Canyon, the most precipitous run in the Snowy Range.
Location: West of Albany along the eastern edge of the Medicine Bow National Forest.
Elevations: Southern Trailhead, 8,790’; Northern Trailhead, 9,310’.
Distance: Approximately five miles from end to end
Maps: For trail head directions, use the Medicine Bow National Forest map. USGS quad, Albany.
Albany Trail Map (.PDF)
Trailhead: I-80 to Laramie, take exit #311, following Snowy Range Rd (WY 130) west 24 miles, turning south on WY 11 to Albany. Through town continue on FS 500.
To reach the southern trailhead go 2 miles from the large Medicine Bow National Forest sign above Albany.Turn right on FS 305, then make an immediate right on an unmarked four wheel drive road. If you are taking a passenger car, this is the place to park. If you’re in a friend’s four wheel drive continue straight on this rough, rocky road (it is FS 500B 01) exactly 1.0 miles, keeping to the right at any intersection. Park at the right hand pull-out. The trail begins on your left. You’ll know you are there if the wide trail is over run by a creek.
To reach the northern trailhead continue on FS 500 to Rob Roy Reservoir where you’ll turn right on FS 338. Then turn right on FS 305 at Cinnabar Park. In 7/10ths of a mile turn left on 305C. The only sign identifying this road is 100 yards or so down the road, a snowmobile trail sign orange over silver marked 305C. Go down this narrow, rough, and yes, rocky four wheel drive road 2.1 miles when you’ll come to a natural park on the right. To your left is a large fire ring and room to park.
The Hike: A recent decision by the Forest Service is turning this trail from hikers only to a dirt bikes track. Construction has to be completed before this change can take place, improving bridges over the riparian areas, work which may be done next summer. This is your last chance to enjoy this unique trail in peace and quiet.
Because much of the trail is not marked it should only be attempted by those looking for a little extra route finding adventure.
From the south trailhead, make your way through or over the creek, which is the South Fork Little Laramie River. At the first intersection, take the right fork, keeping the creek on your left. (Do not take 500B 03!.) At an unmarked Y, take the left fork. Now you are safely on the trail. In a while you will begin to notice white triangles painted on trees to mark your way.
After walking through the trees you may notice some creeks from the left. This area is called “Many Ponds”. Beavers have turned these unnamed rivlets into strings of pearls. Proposed for “Research Natural Area” status in the draft Forest Service Plan, the ponds nourish a wide variety of plants and make boreal toads downright happy.
At two low pine-pole bridges there are fine spots to stop to enjoy the perfect mirrored reflections of sky, rock and trees.
The trail leads on to a second attraction, hills of amber colored, pea-sized granite gravels. Scrambling to the top of one provides searching views of Centennial and the Laramie Plains.
Beyond two more small creeks the trail turns to the west drawing you to the third attraction, overlooks of Hells Canyon, the steepest, longest plunge in the Snowies. You’ll need to step off the trail a few yards to take in the view of the forested canyon and the Snowy Range gleaming white in the distance.
Beyond “Hell” the trail joins a logging road. Turning to the left takes you to the northern trailhead.
If you are hiking from the north trailhead, walk on down the logging road. Turn right on a trail marked for snowmobiles, orange over silver. At a small logged area the snowmobile trail and the Albany Trail separate. Keep to the left edge of the clear cut.
Pointers: Since this is a relatively low elevation trail it is lovely in the spring when the upper range is still snowed under. It is also pleasant in the fall after the first snows have come to higher ground. Some big aspens may bring gold fever.
What it is: A badlands-type area in the Colorado prairie. Gullies, spires, hoodoos, and sculpted walls carved out of brightly colored clay deposits.
Location: About a 5 minute drive from Calhan, Colorado, approx. 30 miles east of Colorado Springs. Take Hwy 24 to Calhan, turn right on Yoder Rd., and follow the signs.
Gear: Nothing special. Wear sneakers or trail shoes and bring a water bottle and a snack.
Distance: Four miles of easy trails.
Details: This place is a well-kept secret. The sites listing “places to see in the Colorado Springs area” don’t mention it. When you arrive at the parking area (there’s a big stone sign declaring the park’s entrance), you won’t see anything spectacular — just prairie in every direction. Pick a trail — doesn’t matter which one, they all intersect and take you to the same spots — and go. The park is rich in plant and animal life and is a beautiful example of native prairie.
Sooner or later you’ll walk up on the expanse of natural clay sculpture. It is nothing short of spectacular — chasms, spires, overhangs, carved walls, the works. The colorful clays — layers of snowy white, golden yellow, rose pink and purplish mauve — are what give the park its name. Native Americans used the deposits for paints and pottery, and settlers later mined the clay to make bricks.
Though they look like solid stone, the hoodoos and other formations are in fact very fragile. When wet, the clay will rub off on your fingers and leave colorful smears on your clothes. Scrambling up and over the formations is discouraged; you’re literally hastening their erosion with every step. For this reason, pets and bicycles are forbidden.
Highlights: It’s the season for a foray into the Snowy Range, the high country of the Medicine Bow. This trail takes day hikers through the gap between Medicine Bow Peak and Browns Peak, past several crystalline lakes into the expansive tundra behind the range. The fish are jumping and the flowers are high.
Location: The high point of the Medicine Bow range, west of Centennial, WY.
Elevations: Trailhead 10,800′, high point 11,120′, Deep Lake10,500′.
Distance: 3 miles each way.
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest (note the inset); USGS Medicine Bow Peak, Sand Lake quads; Forest Service pamphlet “Snowy Range Trails.”
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest – Third Edition
Getting there: From Cheyenne, take I-80 west through Laramie to exit 311. Follow Hwy. 130 west continuing 11 miles past Centennial. Turn north into the Sugarloaf Recreation Area and continue for a mile to the Lewis Lake trailhead. Be prepared for a parking fee and a crowd.
The Hike: The North Gap Lake Trail (#108) begins above the Lewis Lake shoreline with a good perspective of the peaks and Sugarloaf Mountain. Within a quarter of a mile the Lost Lake Trail branches to the east. Stay to the left and begin your gradual ascent to South Gap Lake, nestled against the white quartzize of the range. As you reach the gap the view broadens to the vast lake district left by the glaciers of long ago.
North Gap is below and as you come along side it, Shelf Lakes Trail (#109) departs to the east. This is worth a little exploring. Shelf Lakes 1 and 2 are two of the three Golden Trout locales in the range. The next lake of any size is Shelf 4 which reportedly has better than typical action for brookies.
Back at the North Gap Trail, the path descends through the tundra, passing kumholtz, pines growing horizontally to survive in the howling gales of winter. The Quealy Lake Trail joins on the west just before Cutthroat Lake. (There are only Brook Trout there today.) This trail officially ends at the junction of Deep Lake and Sheep Lake Trail. I’d suggest you continue to Deep Lake, only a half mile further, on trail #110. Deep Lake has good brookie action in the 6″ to 11″ range, according to John Baughman’s excellent “The Most Complete Guide to Wyoming Fishing.” This is the end of the trail, as far as this description goes. As you turn back you have a different perspective on the range and its more gradual north slope.
A glance at the map will bring two good loops into view for those who have time to spend a night at one of the fine lake side campsites. Continuing to Sheep Lake and following trail #389 to Brooklyn Lake, then taking the Lost Lake Trail (#395) is a fine loop, circling Browns Peak and covering about eleven miles total. Another choice, if you want to get a good work-out, is to go down the Quealy Lake Trail to FS 103 to the Dipper Lake Trail and up the north side of Medicine Bow Peak to the summit, then down the mountain to Lewis Lake. The distance is about the same; just add a 1,400′ elevation gain and loss, with a full pack. But what a view!
Pointers: Pray for plenty of wind to take the pesky mosquitos down. Just in case bring plenty of repellent, and sun screen. You may want your flower field guide, certainly a camera. Mountain bikes are not recommended.
Highlights: A walk across the length of the 1st Wilderness Area in the Medicine Bows, established in 1978. The trail passes through three distinct areas. The first is through one of the few remaining old growth lodgepole forests in the area with huge trees and a park-like savannah in between. The second crosses some large wet meadows, filled with sunshine and life. The third and final is a long ramble along the tumbling Savage Run as it makes it’s way through the deeply forested, v-shaped valley.
Location: On the western slope of the Medicine Bow Mountains.
Elevations: Trailhead 9,400′, Forest Boundary 7,725′
Distance: 9 miles from end to end, one way
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest, USGS Overlook Hill & Keystone quads
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest – Third Edition, Erik Molvar’s Wild Wyoming, Forest Service pamphlet “Savage Run Wilderness”
Trailhead: From Laramie take WY 130 west to WY 11 south to Albany. Here WY 11 becomes FS 500. Continue west about 14 miles on this long gravel road past Rob Roy Reservoir to FS 500.3A. Turn to the south and continue 1 ½ miles along this rocky track to the trailhead and parking. A high clearance rig is advisable for this last bit. Cars can park just off the road.
The Hike: The trail begins in the desolation of a clear cut but then steps into a magical forest primeval. This is the way the Medicine Bows must have looked when the first trappers entered the Native Americans’ world, before the loggers claimed it as their own. Majestic lodgepole pines are widely spaced, the floor open, the brush cleared by fires that barely licked the trees. Take some time to wander in these woods.
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Highlights: This trail – a glorious walk along the Encampment River – is a gem, a sapphire. The river is a turbulent, wrestling rush of water, splashing its course down the narrow canyon. The upper reach is in the deep shade of fir and spruce, the lower runs through an open hillside of sun and sage, alders, wild flowers and wildlife. This is the finest canyon trail of the Medicine Bow National Forest. The lower four miles are in a BLM wilderness study area, the upper twelve run the length of the Encampment River Wilderness, established by congress in 1984. At 10,124 acres, it’s the smallest wilderness in the state. This one is for hikers, no bikes allowed, and it’s not an ideal trail for horses because of the narrow tread and the overhanging boughs.
Location: The eastern side of the Sierra Madre range, just south of the town of Encampment, Wyoming.
Elevations: Odd Fellows Trailhead, 7,800′; Commissary Park Trailhead, 8,900′
Distance: About 16 miles from end to end. A trailhead at Purgatory Gulch allows a hiker to split the trail in two sections.
Maps: USGS Dudley Creek, Encampment; Medicine Bow National Forest Map; Medicine Bow National Forest “Huston Park Encampment River Wilderness Trail Map” (pamphlet)
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest, Bill Hunger’s Hiker’s Guide to Wyoming, Erik Molvar’s Wild Wyoming.
Trailhead: It is a 140 mile drive from Cheyenne, WY, taking I-80 west to Laramie, exit 311, then southwest on WY 230 into Colorado (where it is CO 127), north on CO 125 back into Wyoming (where it continues as 230 again) to Riverside. At Riverside turn west on WY 70 through Encampment. Less than ¼ mile past Encampment a BLM sign (Encampment River Trail) points to the south. Take this well graded, gravel road two miles to the Oddfellows trailhead and campground.
To reach the upper end of the trail, at Commissary Park, go west on WY 70 (about six miles) from Encampment to Bottle Creek Campground, turning south on FS 550. Just before Hog Park Reservoir turn south on FS 496 and continue about three miles to Commissary Park.
The Hike: Hiking upstream from the Oddfellows Trailhead, the trail crosses a steel bridge to the east side of the river, then cuts a path along the steep hillside. The hillside is open, covered with sage and grasses. The river below is lined with alders, cottonwoods and service berry. Deer are abundant. Across the river are the summer cabins of the IOOF. This part of the hike can be hot in the sun but it offers a grand view of the country around you with a bouquet of flowers at your feet. There are small mine ruins on the hills above you. After four miles or so you’ve climbed into the conifers. Here the trail enters the Medicine Bow Forest. Across the river lays the Water Valley Ranch, a spread just this side of heaven.
The Purgatory Gulch trail enters here. It is a short trail but bear in mind that the road to it requires a high-clearance vehicle.
Into the forest the trail takes on a different character, often closer to the river, sometimes further above it. The sound is hushed by the trees. The moldering remains of cabin and shaft settle quietly into the earth. A hiker catches views of the white cascade through the trees. As the trail continues the canyon narrows and the river roars around boulders and There are occasional campsites below the trail along the water. I’ve seen the ruins of kayaks, too, their smashed fiberglass hulls in the rocks.
The trail has few improvements and it is necessary to cross the side creeks on logs and rocks or simply to wade them. Eventually the canyon begins to broaden and the trail flattens. A stout bridge crosses the creek in a meadow heading to Commissary Park.
Deer, elk, bighorns and river otters are at home here. Birds are more likely to be seen, including eagles and falcons, western tanagers and hummers. The river holds brown, rainbow, brook and a few cutthroat trout. The rush of water made it difficult for me to fish. It would certainly be easier later in the summer and fall with lower flow.
Pointers: There are, of course, several ways to hike this wilderness. I prefer to make it a comfortable two day trip, hiking in from the north, using a campsite along the creek. The next morning one can continue to Commissary Park without a pack, then return to pick up your gear and motivate down the trail. It takes a bit of walking. With friends a car could be parked at each trailhead, which would allow a pleasant 16 mile walk down hill. Or a person could simply enjoy a leisurely day hike, turning back when the time was right.
Many walk the open BLM sections but there are likely to be few people in the forest. This is a beautiful canyon for solitude. The tumbling water will lift your spirits and the forest canopy is certain to quite your mind.
North Laramie River Trail
Highlights: A rather boring hike to a destination that truly has it all: scenery, wildlife, good stream fishing, a swimming hole and the interesting remains of the old Rainbow End, a lodge and string of cabins that was a popular resort for those seeking cool canyon solace and leaping rainbows from the 1920’s through the 1950’s. And you can come and stay for the price of a walk, 2 ½ miles each way. But bring a tent and your own cooking gear.
Location: About 20 miles west of Wheatland in the Laramie Range along the North Laramie River.
Elevations: Trailhead 6,980; Rainbow End 5,850′
Distance: 2 ½ miles each way
Maps: Medicine Bow National Forest, Laramie Peak Unit; USGS Fletcher Park Quad
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest, Douglas Ranger District pamphlet “North Laramie River Trail #625″
Trailhead: Take I-25 north from Cheyenne, past Wheatland to exit 94, El Rancho Road. Go west on CR 114, Fish Creek Rd. After 13.7 miles turn right on CR 113, Fletcher Park Rd. (AKA FS 716) and continue 5.5 miles. Just past Camp Grace, turn south on FS 642, Cow Camp Road. Look for a little spur on the left, FS 643, where you’ll find parking. The trailhead is marked as the “North Laramie River Trail”. The route is passenger car passable.
The Hike: The first mile is mostly level through the burned remains of ponderosa pine, the result of a lightening strike in 1996. New growth returns slowly in this dry land but the flowers can be beautiful and the deer are plentiful. The second mile is a steady descent that gets ever steeper as you go, leaving the blackened trees to switchback down an open hillside. The old inn, the lovely North Laramie River and the hay fields long left to flower await you. This flat bottom valley is held in a cradle of jagged rock walls and steep hillsides, sheltered like a little Shangri-la. More cabins, barns and workshops are found upstream. You’ll have to wade the river as it meanders back and forth to get to some of them.
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Highlights: A mountain trail that follows the spine of the Sherman Mountains, traveling through conifer forests and open meadows, passing rugged rock formations with frequent expansive views.
Location: Near the summit rest area of I-80, on the eastern side of the Pole Mountain Unit of the Medicine Bow National Forest.
Elevations: Summit Trailhead 8689′, high point 8856′, south trailhead, 8376′
Distance: Three to four miles, end to end.
Maps: USGS Sherman Mountains West quad; Medicine Bow National Forest Map
Guide: Marc Smith’s Hiking Wyoming’s Medicine Bow National Forest; Bill Hunger’s The Hiker’s Guide to Wyoming.
Trailhead: Take I-80 west from Cheyenne about 37 miles, exiting at the summit rest area, exit 323. The Summit Trailhead is to the right on Forest Service 705 just beyond the rest area parking lot. (If you’ve hiked it before you’ll see that the trailhead has been moved about a quarter mile further to promote revegetation of the old trail.) To reach the south trailhead turn left from the I-80 exit on Happy Jack Road (WY 210). Continue five or six miles, turning right on FS 707. The trailhead is about two miles on your right and is well signed.
The hike: This is a well marked (with posts) and well maintained National Recreation Trail, blazed originally in 1868 by William Lovett. It is surprisingly wild in spite of being so close to the interstate. From the Summit Trailhead the route climbs a little, then begins its journey along the side of the rocky granite ridge of the mountain. After about a mile the route divides, with the right fork going out to a grand overlook. The trails come together and travel through ponderosa pine forests, aspen glades and open meadows. Browns Landing is a broad park worth exploring. Brown was an outlaw road agent who kept his hideout here prior to the coming of the railroad in 1869.
The trail enters the trees briefly before it makes its steep plunge down the west side of the mountain. It drops 480 feet in three quarters of a mile bringing you to the south trailhead. This trailhead is at the edge of what once was the Pole Mountain Military Reservation Headquarters.
Pointers: You are not likely to find water along the trail so you will need to carry all you need. This place can be very hot in summer, so spring and fall are best. Keep an eye out for mountain bikers who use the middle section of trail, coming in from the Tie City trailhead.
Five of us backpacked from Wire Pass, down the Buckskin, then down the Paria to Lee’s Ferry. We did it over four days, entering Wire Pass about 7:00 on May 10th, 2005. Perhaps my son, Ryan, said it the best: awesomely brutal and awesomely beautiful. If we had known just a few things the hike would have certainly been less brutal, allowing us to even take in more of the beauty. It seems the BLM didn’t want to give specific advice in case it didn’t work out. We’ll just be bold. I suppose someone could sue the BLM for bad advice. Don’t sue us. We don’t have deep pockets. We have no pockets. So here is our frank, bold advice. Do with it what you want.We are five reasonably fit people. We have varied backpack experience, including five Grand Canyon Hikes, the Guadalupe’s and many alpine trips. But the Paria hit us with some things we had never experienced before.
1. WATER: Walking in it. This spring was a very wet one for southern Utah. We were concerned about the depth of water in the Buckskin. It was, at deepest, between crotch and waist deep, depending on our height. And cold. But we should have been more concerned about the amount of water. Where some guidebooks describe no water for five miles, then some pools after that, we were in watery mud or muddy water throughout the Buckskin. What the guidebooks say is a 6 ½ to 7 ½ hour hike took us a long 12 hours. Down the Paria you will cross through the river time after time, less the further you go. But your feet will never be dry.
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Entering Wire Pass, the sky overcast, a step into mystery, walking into a secret door, down into the unknown, into the unknowable. Our voices seem boisterously loud. As it joins the Buckskin it widens into a hushed gallery. Ancient petroglyphs adorn the right hand wall. Graceful big horns parade and scamper across the wall. Hunters chase them, leaping, shooting. A lone ram looks on from high above. As you make the turn the walls of the Buckskin narrow. They are dark, convoluted, whispering, beckoning onward, into the depths of sinew, of dark red muscle, its grain stretching on, frozen in stillness yet threatening to squeeze. Foreboding, as if leading to the shadow; chasms of doom to the gates of the dead. Yet the promise of hidden treasure, stored for ages, quietly calls from the pages of old storybooks read long ago in the dark of night, in the recess of childhood.
Curvaceous wall on the left answers to wall on the right, a continual counterpoint in sinuous stone. Call and response. Dancers to a slow hypnotic beat, rhythm established by the pace of your steps. Walls curving in, out; in, out; in, out. Then broken with a straight vertical fissure reaching high, higher, craning toward the narrow line of white sky. Then back to convoluted curves, hovering, calling in silence. Dark, dank, musk beauty.
The wind pushes its cold hand on your back, pushing along; then turning into your face, driving dust and grit, then turning to the back. Feet plodding on, stepping on and around stones, on sand, then sloshing again in to another pool of thin mud, seeking purchase, going deeper, chill on the thighs, back arching, the thought pleading, “no, not cold to there, not there…”, then gratefully rising up and out, not “there” this time, the gloomy passage beckoning silently onward, onward. And then a moment. A moment of light streaming downward, the hush of holiness, the holiness of a great temple, stunning into awe. Pausing, breathing, gaping up and around. Seeking a moment of warmth in the holy of holies. And then with a step, back to the dark, to the ominous tread.
You remember reading, “the Buckskin is the longest slot canyon in the world”. The longest. The longest. It’s beauty now going by un-noticed as fatigue dulls wonder, dulls awareness. It’s cold, and long. Wind to the front, wind from the rear. Companions now well ahead, well behind. You are alone. The gaze is downward now, watching the steps, the rocks, the sand, the mud. Then you notice the wings. Tiny wings, moth wings, laying delicately on the mud. The body is mysteriously snipped away, missing, cleanly snatched. Bats of the night? Swallows of day? White-lined Sphinx wings. No other moths. Just the sphinx. Dead wings a pattern of beauty, of geometry in the undulating background of wet, brown mud. What is their message? What do they say? Death awaits? The soul translated, lifted, taken? Taken to where? To new heights or to the dark inwards of wet decay? For a while you avoid stepping on them. Then the weariness takes over, step upon step, watching the footsteps of those who have gone on before.
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