TASTES LIKE CHICKEN
We got up early the next
morning to break camp and survey the damage from the previous night’s bear
attack. I suppose it could’ve been
worse, but the guys from Oklahoma definitely looked like they were ready to go home. As we were checking out, the pleasant
elderly lady hosting the campground mentioned that all of the charming weather
we’d experienced that week was finally moving out. Supposedly, better conditions lay ahead. This was good news, since we’d be
backpacking for the next five days.
We left the campground for
the final time and drove past Lake San Cristobal and on towards the town of
Creede. We made our first stop at the
beginning of the climb to Slumgullion Pass.
Here we found the Alfred Packer Memorial. Alfred was the leader of a failed 1873 mining expedition that
officially ended when he ate the other five members of the party. It was sort of like that movie, “Alive”,
except there was only one survivor. I
mean, how does that sort of thing happen?
You’d think after Alfred ate the first guy, the others would’ve been a
bit wary around him. Oh, and what is
the proper etiquette for eating another human being? Did Alfred use silverware and a napkin? Someone should ask Miss Manners.
I don’t know what the goals of the expedition were, but I can think of
several appropriate mottos. Here’s a
few:
1) Tastes like chicken
2) Did anybody pack the hot
sauce? Hello? Anybody?
3) Alfred says he’d love to
have you over for dinner
4) Pass the gravy
5) Human flesh gives me the farts
Personally, there’s nothing
I enjoy more than a tale of mass cannibalism prior to starting an extended
wilderness backpacking trip.
We left the Memorial and
climbed up and over Slumgullion Pass and then Spring Creek Pass. There were several overlooks along here,
which would’ve provided nice views if they hadn’t been lost in the fog. We sure were looking forward to this
improving weather we were promised, if it ever arrived.
We eventually turned off
onto the long dirt road to the Thirtymile Campground and the Rio Grande
Reservoir. We finally reached the
campground, which seemed surprisingly busy considering its remote
location. In fact, the overnight
parking area for backpackers was fairly crowded. Fortunately, the Weminuche Wilderness is the largest wilderness
area in Colorado.
We hiked through the
campground to the marked trailhead.
After a short distance, the path split.
From the fork, we planned to hike up to Weminuche Pass and on into the
Rincon La Vaca (Valley of the Cow).
We’d take at least one layover day in that high valley before continuing
our loop east along the Continental Divide Trail. Eventually we’d return from the high country through the Squaw
Creek Valley, which would return us to the trailhead. The planned route was not terribly ambitious, as there would only
be a couple of moderate climbs over some 30 miles. That was exactly what we were looking for, as we didn’t want to
further aggravate Christy’s knee injury.
For the first couple of
miles we followed a nasty stretch of rocky and muddy trail through the woods
above the Rio Grande Reservoir. If
you’ve ever wondered what the difference was between a lake and a reservoir,
visit this one. After seeing dozens of
lovely mountain lakes in Wyoming, this body of water could only be described as
uninspiring. It was actually a relief
when we began the climb away from the reservoir along Weminuche Creek. A short distance later we reached a bridge
over the cascading stream. It was
already well past noon, so we stopped there for lunch. While we ate, we saw two fly fishermen pass
by. Earlier, we’d passed a family and
another pair of dayhikers near the trailhead.
They would be the last people we’d see before reaching Weminuche Pass.
Afterwards we began the
steepest part of the climb.
Unfortunately, this is when the rain that had been threatening all day
finally let loose. There’s nothing
worse than climbing a steep hill with a heavy pack in rain gear. Luckily, the rain didn’t last long. It was a relief to stop and shed all that
wet Gore-Tex.
The climb eventually eased,
and we began a pleasant stretch of trail above Weminuche Creek. We passed in and out of meadows and views
opened up across the valley despite the lingering clouds. The best feature of this stretch of trail
was the abundant mushrooms growing here.
There were literally hundreds of ‘shrooms, in all sizes, varieties, and
colors. Some of them looked like they
came straight from an episode of “The Smurfs”.
We didn’t make very good time through here, mainly because all three of
us kept stopping to photograph the ‘shrooms.
I guess all those mushrooms were an unexpected benefit of all the rain
the area had received that summer.
Eventually we resumed the
hike, though the mushroom display never really ended. We knew we were nearing Weminuche Pass when we rock hopped a pair
of streams and began a final climb. We
passed several campsites before finally reaching the pass at the edge of an
immense meadow. Just before the pass,
we spotted a pair of trails heading west.
The first appeared to be the Lake Opal Trail, but I was unable to
identify the second. Later, I
discovered that it was actually the correct trail to follow to reach the Continental
Divide Trail into the Rincon La Vaca.
Unfortunately, we continued on the route ahead, which led into a vast
wet meadow. Actually, a huge grassy
lake might be a better description. We
sloshed our way along, hoping for dry ground that never came. We were beginning to consider backtracking
when we spotted a solo hiker heading our way.
The hiker turned out to be a
single female. She told us that since
we were heading to the Rincon La Vaca, we should’ve stayed on the trail along
the west edge of the meadows. She was
coming from the east, so she hadn’t had any choice but to wade across. She mentioned that she had been in the area
for the past two weeks backpacking with her boyfriend. After we parted ways, we couldn’t help but
wonder where her boyfriend was. There
certainly wasn’t anybody else in sight.
We could only hope that he hadn’t run into Alfred Packer.
We abandoned what remained
of the path we were on, which was basically nothing but a flooded trench
anyway. We sloshed back across the
meadow, doing our best to avoid the really deep water. At one point, we passed the rotting carcass
of a deer or elk. A short distance
beyond, we finally reached dry ground and then the trail. It was huge relief to be free of that swamp!
We continued south, but hit
a side trail angling west towards the Rincon La Vaca. We followed this trail, which brought us to a US Forest Service
cabin. We continued beyond, and
eventually intersected the Continental Divide Trail. Finally, we knew where we were.
We followed the CDT west, climbing up into the valley. After perhaps a mile, we reached a pleasant
meadow with a great view of Rio Grande Pyramid and the Window. Rio Grande Pyramid, at 13,821’, is the
highest peak in the central Weminuche Wilderness. The Window is a unique notch cut out of the Pyramid’s south
ridge. Both are justifiably
famous. Even better, we found a nice
campsite with a view of both. The site
was in the woods at the edge of the meadow, about 100 yards from the creek
draining the valley. We set up camp
with the pleasure of knowing that we’d be there for at least two nights.
Shortly after setting up
camp, another group of backpackers came up the trail following in our
footsteps. They continued beyond our
site, but stopped at another a few minutes farther up the valley. Fortunately they were far enough away that they
were out of sight and sound of our campsite.
A few minutes later, the
rain came again. Fortunately, Myron had
already erected a tarp. Myron is a
retired engineer nearly famous for his tarp-rigging abilities. We would spend considerable time under his
well-pitched tarp on this trip. For
this evening, it gave us a place to wait out the rain without being cramped
inside the tent.
That night, after dinner,
the rain finally stopped. It was
already after dark when Myron and I attempted to hang the food. I was hoisting the bags while Myron was
pulling on the rope when he slipped in a pile of old horse manure. He fell, landing on his back on a tree root. This looked painful, but fortunately he
appeared to be ok. We eventually got
the food up and headed for bed. Myron
and I were planning on getting up early to make an attempt at the summit of Rio
Grande Pyramid.
VALLEY OF THE COW
Myron and I rose early the
next morning to partly cloudy skies.
After a quick cold breakfast, we began our climb of the Rio Grande
Pyramid. Myron got a brief head start,
and I hustled out of camp to catch up with him. Our meadow was soaked after the previous evening’s rain, and I
was drenched before I reached the trail.
Once on the path, I dodged mud puddles as I climbed up into the woods.
I was just getting warmed up
when I got the funny feeling that someone was watching me. I looked to my right, and came face to face
with a female moose! She was about 20
yards away, and was staring right at me.
Oddly, she didn’t seem to be afraid of me. If anything, she seemed curious.
I was able to take her photo, but didn’t get a very good shot due to low
light. I did take a few minutes to
watch her munching on the vegetation.
Moose are rare in Colorado,
but the San Juan Mountains are one of the few ranges where they can be
found. Since female moose are referred
to as cows, I finally understood where the Rincon la Vaca got its name.
I reluctantly left her
behind and caught up with Myron a few minutes later. He was waiting for me in a small meadow at a sharp left turn in
the trail. Our plan had been to follow
the trail to this left turn. At that
point, we’d leave the path and bushwhack up to the Lake Opal Trail. From there, we’d be able to access the main
route up the Pyramid’s southeast ridge.
We appeared to be in the correct spot, so we left the relatively dry
path for some soggy bushwhacking through the willow-choked meadow. We then passed through a brief stretch of
woods before arriving at the base of an extremely steep slope. The Lake Opal Trail was nowhere to be
seen. Could this be right?
Neither of us wanted to slog
back through that meadow. The slope
ahead was steep, but we were certain that the trail must be above us. In a moment of dubious decision-making, we
chose to climb. After all, it would be
a nice warm up for the main climb ahead.
We scrambled up the slope,
moving through loose talus and scree.
The slope looked bad from the base, but it was actually worse than we
expected. Our progress was agonizingly
slow, but we eventually climbed through a break in a line of cliffs and
stumbled onto the trail. What a relief!
We followed the path west
towards the Pyramid, which seemed miles away.
Clouds rolled in to obscure the peak, but quickly blew off to reveal it
again. A few minutes later we passed
through another tangle of wet willows.
We fought through the willows, and reached an unmarked junction near a
small stream. A faint path leaves the
main trail here, heading towards the mountain.
We took a break there, and debated our options as a new wave of clouds
rolled in.
The climb was not going
well. My route may have been one of the
worst “short-cuts” of all time. We were
back on target, but we’d spent considerable time and energy getting there. It was already mid-morning, and the
increasing clouds suggested more storms moving in. I was inclined to bail out, but Myron wasn’t ready to give
up. Somehow, he managed to talk me into
continuing.
We had a snack and hustled
up the trail. At the top of another
climb, we spotted a likely route heading west towards the peak. However, the trail continued ahead, towards
a pass between the Pyramid and peak 13,278’.
After our earlier bushwhacking misadventure, we were reluctant to leave
the trail. We continued ahead, and
reached the pass a few minutes later.
The pass provided a fantastic view to the northwest across a vast
stretch of the Rio Grande National Forest.
Unfortunately, the trail we were following continued downhill beyond the
pass.
We left the path and angled
back to the southwest. Before long, we
were forced to traverse a boulder field below a line of cliffs. After some tedious scrambling, we reached
the base of a steep scree slope that was nearly lost in the fog. After a rugged climb, we reached a minor gap
in the ridge east of the summit. A
steep pile of boulders towered above us.
The clouds cleared briefly, so we could see the summit. Myron caught up to me, took one look, and
wondered out loud, “where do we go from here?”
He pointed out that we certainly couldn’t climb straight up the ridge
ahead of us.
Unfortunately, there weren’t
any better options, and we’d come too far to turn back now. We resumed the climb, working our way up
through boulders and talus.
Fortunately, the rocks were stable, and the climb wasn’t nearly as bad
as it looked. After 30 minutes of
strenuous scrambling, I reached the summit.
Myron joined me a couple of minutes later. Despite heavy clouds, we were still treated to great views. The best vistas were of the Needle Mountains
and Grenadier Mountains to the west. We
took a break, snapped a few photos, and signed the summit register. I was just glad to be there. If it hadn’t been for Myron’s persistence, I
never would’ve made it.
A storm seemed imminent, so
we headed down 30 minutes later. Myron
led the way down, while I scrambled to keep up. By the time we began descending the scree slope, we were peppered
with cold rain and hail. At the bottom,
I had to call for a break to empty the pebbles from my boots.
A few minutes later we
regained the main trail. By then, the
storm seemed to have passed. Returning
by the same route certainly wasn’t an option, so we decided to head southwest
to Lake Opal and the CDT junction.
However, before we reached the lake, we spotted an obvious trail heading
downhill towards the CDT. We opted for
this shortcut, which delivered us to the CDT a few minutes later. From there, we descended alongside a
pleasant stream towards treeline. As we
hiked, I noticed that the map’s depiction of this trail is wildly
inaccurate. It’s no wonder we’d gotten
so far off route on our ascent.
We returned to camp by
mid-afternoon. Christy and Saucony had
relaxed there all morning, watching the clouds moving across the summit of the
Pyramid. Originally Christy and I had
planned on hiking up to The Window that afternoon. I was pretty worn out though, and when another storm moved in, we
decided to skip it. Instead we spent
the remainder of the afternoon relaxing and playing cards under Myron’s
tarp. That evening, we discussed the
merits of spending another day there.
Ultimately we elected to delay that decision until the next morning.
DON’T FORGET YOUR SNORKEL
It rained all night, and
lingering drizzle and fog led to a late start.
We eventually emerged from our tents, but an improvement in the weather
seemed unlikely. Climbing to the
Window, which was lost in the clouds, seemed pointless in those
conditions. We needed to reach Squaw
Lake 2 days later, and it would be a long haul in a single day. Since long days seemed to bother Christy’s
knee the most, we decided to break the hike up over two days. Our new plan was to hike back across
Weminuche Pass and climb to a campsite at treeline near the headwaters of the
North Fork of the Los Pinos River.
Camping in that area would put us in good position to complete the hike
to Squaw Lake the following day.
We packed our wet gear and
hiked back down the CDT towards Weminuche Pass. We crossed the creek draining the Rincon la Vaca on a foot log
and intersected the Los Pinos River Trail.
After some confusion, we found the correct route. We turned left on the Los Pinos River Trail,
followed it 50 yards, and turned right to bushwhack across the meadow. There is no trail here, but the route is
occasionally marked with posts.
Unfortunately, the hike through here was a total slog. We slopped along until we reached the river,
which we had to wade. This wasn’t
terribly traumatic though, since we were already soaked. In fact, there were several occasions where
one of us could’ve disappeared down a mud hole. In fact, we nearly lost the dog twice.
That brings me to the ten
essentials. Most guidebooks and maps
list the 10 items you should never venture into the wilderness without. Here’s the standard list:
1) Firestarter
2) Map & compass
3) Knife
4) Rain gear
5) First aid kit
6) Rope or cord
7) Water and filter or other
treatment
8) Food
9) Flashlight
10) Sunglasses
I might suggest a slightly
modified list for August trips in the Weminuche Wilderness. See if you can spot the changes:
1) Firestarter
2) Map & compass
3) Knife
4) Rain gear
5) First aid kit
6) Rope or cord
7) Water and filter or other
treatment
8) Food
9) Flashlight
10) Snorkel
Obviously, there’s no need
for sunglasses in the Weminuche Wilderness during monsoon season, since the sun
doesn’t shine there. Instead, I
recommend a snorkel. That way, if you
disappear in a deep pool, you’ll still be able to breathe!
We passed a large group
camped at the edge of the meadow and continued into the woods. After a brief climb, we crossed a wide
gravel trail not shown on the map.
Afterwards, we climbed first through deep forest, then high above the
North Fork. Eventually the trees
thinned, and we stopped in a meadow at a crossing of the river for lunch. It was a cloudy, chilly day, so we didn’t
linger long. After a tricky rock hop,
we continued back into the woods. Before
long, we spotted a nice campsite deep in a lovely evergreen forest. It was early, but we were nearing a long stretch
of trail above treeline. More storms
were threatening, so we decided against passing this site up.
It was a good decision. Not long after setting up camp the rain
came. We huddled under the tarp again
and played cards. We didn’t have much
else to do, though I did contemplate the merits of building a boat. At one point hail accompanied the rain. It wasn’t long before the hail was piling up
on the tarp. A few minutes later, the
entire area surrounding the tarp was covered in ice.
The storms finally eased
that evening. Later, a deer visited our
campsite. We spent an hour or more
watching her munch on the surrounding vegetation. Her favorite area was some ferns next to a tree that Myron and I
had been using for a bathroom. Urine –
Mother Nature’s own salad dressing!
THE DIVIDED SKY
We rose the next morning to
a startling sight. Up in the sky was a
bright orange orb. What could it
be? It hurt to look at it. At first, we thought it must be some sort of
shiny UFO. I scoured my memory, and
recalled seeing something similar long ago, before arriving in southwest
Colorado. After serious contemplation,
I realized what it must be. The Sun!
We basked in its warmth
during breakfast and while breaking camp.
Afterwards, I couldn’t wait to get on the trail. We had a long stretch of hiking above
treeline ahead of us, and there was no telling how long this glorious sunshine
would last.
We climbed for a few minutes
through the woods before reaching treeline.
We passed the junction with the Snowslide Trail, and continued on the
CDT through a series of boggy meadows and soggy willows. Long stretches of the trail here were
flooded, which brought back memories of Weminuche Pass. Then we passed a series of tarns before
climbing out of the muck. Normally
going uphill isn’t something to look forward to, but in this case it delivered
us from the swamp.
We climbed beyond the last
of the shrubs onto the narrow ridge of the continental divide. As we gained elevation, views opened up in
all directions. To the south and west,
we were treated to expansive views. In
the opposite direction though, the vista stretched across a series of valleys
choked with fog. It was amazing how
different the weather was on opposite sides of the divide. It was amusing to think that the folks in
Creede and elsewhere to the northeast were anticipating another soggy day. Meanwhile we were above it all, walking
across the sky.
We reached the top of the
ridge and stopped to enjoy the moment.
We found some rocks to sit on, but I couldn’t decide which view I liked
better. To the west, we could see the
Rincon La Vaca below the Window and the Rio Grande Pyramid. Beyond were miles and miles of mountains and
meadows. I still enjoyed the
counterpoint of looking out across that endless carpet of fog. From our perch, it looked like we could just
walk out across the tops of the clouds.
What started as a brief
break turned into an hour of lounging in the sun. Eventually though, we had to move on. We enjoyed a couple of miles of ridgeline strolling, before
descending into a gap. Just below us to
the northeast, we spotted a small pond.
I was out of water, so we descended cross-country. We stopped at the tarn for water and
lunch. While we ate, we noticed more
clouds moving in. Apparently our
weather reprieve was short-lived after all.
After lunch, Myron suggested
hiking cross-country to meet the Squaw Lake Trail rather than
backtracking. This seemed like a good
idea, but the terrain was rugged. We
weaved through boulder gardens and cliff bands before climbing slightly to a
ridge. At the top of the ridge, we
joined the Squaw Lake Trail. From here
we had a fine view down to the lake far below.
We followed the trail down steep switchbacks to the lakeshore. We found several fine campsites nearby, and
took one nestled under some trees adjacent to a meadow and the lakeshore.
We set up camp and spent the
afternoon drying our gear, and ourselves, in the sun. Later a group of horseback riders passed through. Then the clouds began to build, and rumbles
of thunder warned of more threatening storms.
We huddled under the tarp again that evening before the rain
passed. After dinner, we spotted a
porcupine wandering around our campsite.
Myron followed him around for a while trying to get a photograph, and
somehow managed to avoid getting pricked.
That was only the beginning of the unusual wildlife sightings for the
evening.
Christy and I had just gone
to bed when we heard a loud snort outside our tent. I peaked out the window, and spotted an elk grazing only a few
feet away. I saw movement in the meadow
beyond, and quickly realized that several more elk were roaming out there. I dared to poke my head all the way out of
the tent, and immediately spotted at least a dozen elk in the meadow
surrounding our camp.
I attempted to sleep, but
felt horrible. Suddenly I was achy and
feverish. Later I battled a vicious
case of chills. All of the snorting and
stomping and pawing and chewing going on outside our tent didn’t help me rest,
either. Every once in awhile I’d give
up on sleeping to watch the elk. This
was pretty easy, since one of their favorite grazing spots was another
urine-soaked tree a few yards from our tent.
I watched a progression of elk browsing there, including a couple of
young ones.
I slept a little off and on
that night. It wasn’t very restful
though. Dreaming of being trampled by
elk probably didn’t help!
HIKE OF THE LIVING DEAD
I felt miserable the next
morning. The elk were gone, but my
fever was still very much present. I
was weak to the point that I was barely able to get out of the tent. How would I be able to hike out 8 miles in
this condition?
I wasn’t the only one having
problems. Myron literally couldn’t get
out of his tent. At some point that night,
his back had cramped up. He was
experiencing violent back spasms, and could barely walk. To top it off, Christy’s knee pain had
flared up, too. What to do? We collectively decided to rest for a couple
of hours. Hopefully we’d be able to
hike out later that morning.
Myron took a muscle relaxer
and we both napped. I got up a couple
hours later, and felt a slightly more human.
Myron was able to walk, but wasn’t sure about carrying his pack. After some debate, we decided to pack up
and try to hike out. Truthfully, we
didn’t have many options. Myron had to
be at the Denver airport the following evening.
I was exhausted after
packing. Fortunately, the hike out
would be entirely flat or downhill. We
stumbled down the trail, with Saucony leading the way. Christy, who had been suffering from a knee
injury for 3 weeks, was probably in the best condition. I was walking in a daze. I was still fighting a fever, weakness,
aches, and chills. Luckily for me, we
didn’t have to cross any rivers or traverse any cliffs!
A long descent on
well-designed switchbacks brought us to the meadows of the Squaw Creek
valley. The valley would’ve been pretty
if I’d been able to appreciate it. We
continued downstream, following yet another flooded trail. Frequently we had to hop from rock to rock
to avoid the deepest mud holes. At one
point, Saucony wandered into a pool and literally disappeared underwater. If I had been feeling human, this would’ve
been humorous.
The trail stretched on and
on. Fortunately Myron was hanging in
there, and I was able to keep moving forward.
Finally, after an eternity, we descended into the woods. A few minutes later we crossed Squaw Creek
on a sturdy bridge. Beyond the creek we
endured a steep climb that nearly did me in.
It was a short climb, but Myron and I both took a lengthy break at the
top.
We descended again and
reached the edge of the campground.
Arriving at the Xterra was a huge relief. Chips, salsa, and lukewarm coke helped, and somehow we were able
to pack to car. Storms were threatening
as we left the parking lot, but somehow we managed to make it through the day
without any rain!
We drove back to Lake City,
and were treated to fine views of Wetterhorn and Uncompahgre on the way. We continued on to Gunnison, and stopped for
dinner at the Palisades restaurant, which probably would’ve been good if I’d
been able to taste my food. Originally
we planned to camp that evening, but it was cold out, and I still felt
miserable. Plus, we thought a bed might
be better for Myron’s back than another night in a tent. We invested a few minutes in finding a cheap
hotel, and ended up at the Long Holiday Motel.
The Long Holiday Motel shouldn’t be confused with a Holiday Inn,
although their signs are remarkably similar.
The Long Holiday Motel can
best be described as…Hitchcockian. As
in Pyscho. The hotel consists of a row
of ten rooms adjacent to the parking lot.
I’m not sure which room Norman was in.
Fortunately, it’s virtually impossible to get lost there. In fact, the handy hotel guide has a map of
the property that diagrams the exact location of all ten rooms, and the
relative location of those rooms in relation to the parking lot. We were assigned room #4, which was
conveniently located immediately between rooms #3 and #5. This was a good thing, because it would’ve
been very confusing if room #4 was located between rooms #7 and #8.
Did I mention that I had a
severe fever that night?
Back to Colorado
Back to Hiking and Backpacking Trip Reports
Please remember to Leave No Trace!