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Hiking Highlands Bowl
One of the best locations for skiing steep terrain in bounds with good snow, and the bonus of a high mountain experience, is Highlands Bowl at the Aspen Highlands ski area. Known simply as the ‘Bowl’, it’s also a good workout. A mandatory 750 foot hike up the ridge to the summit of 12,381 foot Highland Peak is required to reach the top of the Bowl. The first day after yet another (yeah go Ullr!) big storm cleared out of the Colorado mountains, Chad and I headed up to Highlands for fun skiing and to work off some of the holiday excess.
The Bowl can be a popular destination with a long line of hikers strung out along the ridge racing to get the goods. A single-track boot pack provides few opportunities to pass making the hike slow going. This day it was relatively quiet and I took the opportunity to take it slow myself. Sparkling ice particles floated in the air and the fresh snow squeaked and creaked under foot as we marched upwards under bluebird skies. Between the huffing and puffing, and with a quick look around, one could observe the significant avalanche activity following the recent storms. Highlands Bowl itself is major avalanche terrain and the ski patrol works hard to ensure its safety for skiers. At times we walked over snow blackened with the residue of explosives from their control work.
After about 40 minutes we arrived at the summit, prayer flags fluttering in the cold wind. The 360 degree views north to the Flattops, east to the Sawatch and south, close and deep into the Elks, were stupendous. Highland Peak provides a direct view up Maroon Creek to the deadly Bells and Pyramid Peak anchored at the end of the valley.
After taking in the scenery, we launched into the east side of the bowl and skied chopped, fresh powder through the glades of the North Woods. The 3,000 feet descent brought us to the base of the Deep Temerity lift and we signed on for another lap.
Second time around we rode the snow cat a short ways up. Although it doesn’t save much time on the hike the line was non existent and therefore hard to pass up given our leisurely pace of the day.
The ridge was deserted on our final climb. The sun hung low in the sky casting the bowl into shadow for the descent. This time I skied the center of the Bowl and tried to stop as little as possible. Quads screaming for relief coincided with the closure of the lifts, giving us good reason to retire to the bar. While hiking Highlands goes some way in working off the excess of Christmas, maintenance of stamina for the New Year celebrations was deemed necessary.
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Playing it Safe
During the last 10 days a significant amount of snow has fallen in the high country, adding a heavy load to and burying an old and rotten layer at the bottom of the snowpack. This has created a precarious and hazardous situation in the backcountry. The avalanche danger is rated high by the Colorado Avalanche Information Center meaning both natural and human triggered avalanches are likely. Indeed, two people have died in avalanches during the last week in the Elk Mountains. Now is not the time to push the envelope.
The Grand Mesa, while not immune from avalanches, has plenty of low angle terrain to satisfy powder hounds who seek to avoid exposure to the current high danger. It’s also a quick and easy drive from Grand Junction. Today the clouds finally broke after almost two weeks of snow. It was an ideal day to hit up one of my favorite areas for backcountry skiing, the Big Top. Here, my fellow members of the circus and I, found enough powder to keep us clowning around all day long.
Krissy and Mike Steele skin towards a run down Dumbo
Twyla Gingrich plays in powder on low angle terrain
As today was the winter solstice, these north facing slopes were long in shadow and short of sun. After four laps of the skin track, the sun dipped below the horizon. An early end to a perfect day of playing it safe.
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Happy Snow Days are Here!
Today Pete and I got out for a nice backcountry tour and put in a few turns on the Grand Mesa. The recent storm has finally left a decent amount of snow and there is more in the forecast! Yipee!
In the middle of the woods we met a new backcountry ski partner. He seemed pleased for the company, the new snow and was happy to pose for a photo with me.
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Mining for Snow in the San Juans
The San Juan mountain range in south west Colorado is steeped in mining history. Roads, relics and structures dot the landscape, evidence of miners searching for gold and silver during the 19th century. Now, in the winter months, the area creates a fantastic backdrop for ski touring. This past weekend Pete Harris and I made a foray into the mountains around Red Mountain Pass, mining for our treasure of choice - snow.
Early season backcountry skiing can be fraught with somewhat tricky and dangerous terrain however. Although avalanches are always a consideration, the lack of snow is usually a greater cause for concern. The heavy winter storms have yet to arrive and fill in unexpected obstacles which lurk disguised beneath the surface. This became apparent as we first headed towards a steep treed slope south of the pass at Chattanooga. Reaching the base required negotiating the open waters of a babbling Mill Creek and our first run we cut short, finding the snow pack too shallow for comfort as we bottomed out on rocks and stumps. We decided to retrace our tracks and mine for snow elsewhere.
We returned to the pass, 800 feet higher, in the hopes the snow cover would be better. At 11,000 feet the official Red Mountain Pass snow stake reported a depth of 18 inches. Not much improvement but we slapped on the skins anyway and headed westward and upward. The sun was shining, the skies were blue and touring for turns is always a worthy endeavor.
Occasionally picking our way through rocks and grass we followed an old mining road, a notorious summer time 4 wheel drive route, which climbs over Black Bear Pass before plunging down to Telluride. With only a thin mantle of snow, the shapes of a bygone age were visible all around. Reaching Mineral Basin at 12,500 feet, we stopped for lunch and ripped off our skins before skiing the basin headwall back towards the highway.
The snow was heavily wind affected, alternating between breakable crust, soft but sculpted recycled powder, and an impenetrable sheet. Ski conditions could only be termed ‘challenging’ as it was difficult to predict what each turn would bring. Jump turns were necessary to launch out of, and land back in, the crud without catching an edge. But it was great fun and a good workout with mountain scenery second to none.
We modern day snow miners returned to the pass satisfied with our treasure haul and, of course, celebrated the day with a beer or few before heading home.
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At Last: Powder Turns
The Outdoor Junkie’s first turns of the season
The snow has finally begun to fall, without a doubt entirely due to the exceptional celebration conducted in honor of Ullr last weekend. My eyes have been glued to the weather station reports during the recent storm. Up to 22 inches had fallen in the Elks, easily enough snow to warrant an expedition in search of the first turns of the season.
Sunday morning I headed up into the mountains and despite the somewhat nasty weather found a few other diehards out there, including my ski partner Craig Burger. After an hour and a half of skinning through sheltered trees, we had a descent of 2,000 feet below us. Although somewhat marginal below 10,000 feet the conditions were a huge improvement over the previous week. On the northerly aspects we found fresh snow, blown in 18 inches deep and enough to satisfy my immediate hunger for powder turns.
The full-on winter blizzard conditions added to the excitement of dodging rocks and snow snakes (deadfall) in poor visibility. But it was great to be back on the skis after four months off, and with no injuries and our equipment returned relatively unscathed, the day was deemed a success.
Craig Burger shows how it’s done on skinny tele skis
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Time to Get Serious
Despite making what I thought was a very valiant and quite public plea to summon snow two weeks ago, absolutely diddly-squat has happened. The Grand Mesa is reporting a not so grand snowpack somewhere between 3 and 4 inches and the webcam at Powderhorn is looking a little brown. Grass skiing anyone? (When running a spell and grammar check ‘grass skiing’ results in ‘verb confusion -consider revising’. I am evidently not the only one who thinks the lack of snow is downright wrong).
Before we get too despondent, let’s take ourselves back to last winter. In the end it was one for the record books with unprecedented snowfall. But it was as dry as the Sahara desert until the first week in December when it started dumping and didn’t stop. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, the magic white stuff made its appearance the day I headed to the southern hemisphere for six weeks. A possible correlation between these events has me deeply concerned. I have no plans to go anywhere this winter, least of all to the other side of the world. This potentially season wrecking inaction has not escaped the notice of my ‘friends’ who are begging me to leave the country. Don’t get me wrong - I would love to go back to New Zealand but this winter I really want to stay in Colorado and ski.
At this juncture, I feel that some serious action is needed. So this past week I have dedicated my life to building a shrine to Ullr, the Nordic God of archery, hunting and skiing, the latter of course being the most important. Even without the plastic boots and fat skis of modern times, Ullr was reportedly an accomplished skier. Like us, he was a lover of fresh deep powder and he spent his days shredding the backcountry. He was the man!
This weekend, a pilgrimage to my shrine will take place. Upon reaching the shrine the pilgrims will participate in an event of worship (aka party) in honor of our beloved and highly esteemed Ullr. It is a universal belief that the bigger and better the celebration the greater the resulting snow fall. You can be sure I am going to give it my finest effort. And I am asking you all to do the same. I hereby call upon every man, woman and child to join me in summoning snow and soon we will be basking in the glory of Ullr!
Now a footnote and point of clarification, for those who don’t participate in snow dependent activities. The fact that you don’t like snow should not preclude you for partaking in any Ullr worship. We are praying for snow in the mountains, not the valley. I am quite happy for you all to have the local trails nice and dry for your mountain biking, as long as it dumps up high and you pray along with me. Thank you.
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Rope Work in the Monument
The rope, more than any other piece of equipment, has played an integral role in my formative years as I developed into a fully fledged outdoor junkie. I first used a rope and learned how to climb at the Westway climbing wall in London, almost 20 years ago. With the A40, one of the largest motorways into London, as its roof, it was a far cry from the majesty of the mountains I was seeking. Desperate as I was to escape the rat race in London, I realized this was only opportunity I had to learn the art of rope work. And so I did.
At the first opportunity, I moved to the mountains, to Zermatt in Switzerland where I spent one long and incredible summer attached to a rope, mountaineering on alpine greats such as the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa and sport climbing on local crags. Later the rope even led me to meet my husband when I was hitch hiking to a climbing gym in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. And when we ended up in Arizona, many weekends were spent rock climbing in the deserts of the southwest at places such as Joshua Tree and the Cochise Stronghold.
Since moving to the Grand Valley eight years ago, there have been so many other fun things to do, climbing has not been on my agenda and I count myself as one of those who has lost the art of rope work.
This winter I plan on more technical mountaineering activities. So refreshing my memory on the fundamentals sounded like a fine way to spend a sunny afternoon. My friend and ski partner Pete Harris and I headed out into the Colorado National Monument, having identified an easy 5.7 climb which we could top rope.
Over several hours we set an anchor, practiced the munter hitch, double fisherman’s, autoblocks, figure of eights, and other knots, and finally rappelled 30 meters down a slab into Monument Canyon.
Although the sunny warm rock was a good place to brush out the cobwebs, we will need to head up into the mountains soon to practice under full on winter conditions. Now, if only the snow gods would get their act together…..it’s been a slow start to winter in Colorado. That’s the Mesa in the background and it’s not the right color.
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Gearing Up For Winter
As the days grow shorter and the temperatures drop, late fall is a quiet time for outdoor pursuits. Inside is a different matter. With winter on its way, excitement is building, and the mind and home of a backcountry skier is a hive of activity. There is much to do in preparation as the first flakes fall and the mountains take on their mantle of snow.
Building the log pile. Cutting, hauling and stacking wood for the stove is the major outdoor activity for this time of year. And it’s hard work. After two days I am tired and sore. No need to hit the gym this week!
Preparing the quiver. Skis, boots and bindings for every possible scenario need to be selected and prepared. The workhorses of my quiver are a pair of mid-fat skis for deep mid-winter powder days and a slimmer but stiffer pair for spring ski mountaineering activities. Both will be equipped with AT bindings. Other equipment includes selection of appropriate packs, small for day tours, larger for hut trips, etc. All need to be filled with emergency and other supplies. Everything must be ready to go at a moment’s notice in case of (fingers crossed) an early season snowfall.
Stoking the flame within. This happens naturally and requires no effort. As ski magazines arrive in the mail, ski movies show on the big screen, and ski swap banners hang across Main Street, anticipation of the season to come rises to a feverish pitch. Discussions with friends are dominated by reminiscence of last winter’s epic days and plans for the upcoming season.
Brushing up on avalanche skills. Dusty books are pulled from the shelf and stacked on the coffee table for re-reading. Refreshing the memory on backcountry travel techniques and avalanche assessment is especially important.
Predicting and affecting the weather. This is by far the most important activity of the late fall. Long range forecasts from the Weather Service to Farmers Almanac are assessed. Significant internet discussion occurs on signs that could indicate a big winter. La Nina or El Nino? Extra woolly caterpillars or a proliferation of spiders in the home? (Yes. I have seen that!). Good signs are celebrated; bad signs are dismissed and ignored. And to ensure that nothing is left to chance almost every skier will undertake some activity to encourage Ullr, the Norse God of Snow, to perform to the best of his ability. Burning skis, throwing parties and any manner of activities take place that affect the depth of the winter snowpack.
Now is the time to pray for snow.
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Mountain Biking at 18 Road
All summer long, every time I pulled on my running shoes, I walked past my mountain bike collecting dust in the garage. I have not been out riding once this year. This has never happened before, not since I got my first bike well over a decade ago. In preparing for the Grand Canyon trip, my heavy running schedule has pushed the bike to the back of my mind, as well as to the back of the garage.
Festering in the corner, my extremely nice bike (of which I am not worthy) developed a serious pout. And now, having wrapped up my running for the year, it was giving me a major guilt trip as there was no longer an excuse not to take it out. Since the weather this weekend was better than perfect for desert riding, I headed out to the 18 Road area with a few friends.
The plan was to do what my friend Mike calls the ‘M’ loop. He claims that its traces the shape of an ‘M’ through the network of trails in the area. I have to confess it’s the strangest shaped ‘M’ I have ever seen. It bears so little resemblance to the letter that I am convinced that Mike calls it ‘M’ because he wants to name a trail after himself.
Krissy Steele, Jen Rapiejko and Mike Steele ride up Western Zip towards the Bookcliffs
Naming rights aside, there is no doubt that the ‘M’ loop is an excellent way to spend a few hours, linking some of the best rides in the Grand Valley. Not only that, it has a great flow with a perfect beginning, middle and end. Starting out, we headed west into the desert on double track for a couple of miles, a nice warm up. Then a steady climb on Western Zip elevates the heart rate before hitting the Front Side trail. This is where the fun really begins. Smooth, swoopy single track took us across the base of the Bookcliffs. It is interjected with one tough but short climb leaving you reeling and gasping for air, and that’s just from pushing the bike up. After a few miles of more ripping on the roller coaster we hit Kestle Run, a super fun trail that flows down a shallow drainage like a half pipe. Kestle Run is my favorite at 18 Road and never fails to put a big grin on my face. All the trails were in fantastic shape and surprisingly so after a long dry summer.
Giggles and grins on Kestle Run: Krissy Steele is followed by Jen Rapiejko
However there is a problem with the ‘M’ loop. Having finished the first part of the ‘M’, in order to connect to the next section, one has to ride directly through the parking lot. And that was a problem because there was a cooler with cold beers in my car and on this particular day I was very thirsty. Even the awesome riding on Prime Cut and Chutes and Ladders could not entice me to ride past my car and continue on. Like a pin to a magnet I was drawn to that cooler. After sinking a few it’s even more difficult to go back and ride again.
So in the end we did half of ‘M’, which really is an ‘A’ and since my name begins with ‘A’, that’s what I’m going to call it. And may I also suggest that the ‘M’ loop should now be known as the double ‘A’, because it really is a grade ‘A’ ride, twice over. Sorry Mike.
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Grand Canyon Rim to Rim
The first time I stood on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, I laughed. I laughed at the insanity of the grandiose plan I had hatched over the past six months, the plan I had to run across the Grand Canyon.
The logistics of organizing such a trip are difficult enough that I had almost forgotten about the running portion. Securing lodging in the park on a prime fall weekend and finding someone to deliver my vehicle from one rim to the other was a significant accomplishment in itself.
As I stood above the abyss, the final destination barely visible but seemingly winking at me on the far horizon, the enormity and the insanity of the plan finally sunk in. Crossing the ‘big ditch’ would require me to cover 24 miles with a total elevation gain and loss of 11,200 feet in some of the harshest and rugged terrain in the southwest.
My laughter was an attempt to disguise the anxious thoughts now coursing through my mind. Had I trained enough? What if I hadn’t packed sufficient food and water, or the weather turned bad, as was forecast? What if I simply couldn’t run anymore and my legs ceased to function? But as I watched the shuttle driver take my car away, I knew there was no option but to follow my plan through to the end.
Luckily I was not the only one who had signed up for my insane and grandiose plan. Shivering alongside me in the freezing wind was my husband Chad, and friends Will and Shawn Hays.
So as the sun rose, we launched into the abyss. During the first five miles the North Kaibab trail drops like a stone, falling 3,600 feet. In the excitement of setting off (and going down) taking this section fast would be tempting. But locking up my quads and jarring my knees would result in a suffer fest for the remainder of the day. So I took it easy at first.
As the grade leveled out I opened the throttle and joined the others as they flew down the trail towards Phantom Ranch. The scenery and terrain was both varied and spectacular. The trail took us down steep switchbacks, across ledges cut out of towering red rock walls, beneath cottonwood stands on the canyon floor and finally followed the rowdy Bright Angel Creek through a narrow canyon to its confluence with the Colorado River.
We kept up a good pace and covered the 14 miles to Phantom Ranch in less than three hours. As expected it was much warmer at the bottom of the canyon, and we were further encouraged as the bad weather forecast had not materialized. Phantom Ranch is a busy spot with hikers, backpackers, mules and rangers taking advantage of the various facilities and available drinking water. We quickly refueled before trotting off towards the Colorado River and the Silver suspension bridge.
We spent a few minutes gazing in awe at the power of the river flowing beneath our feet before continuing on the Bright Angel trail, beginning what we thought was the major climb of the day. But after running up several hundred feet, I was aghast to see the trail descend once again to the river. Although not a significant descent it was nevertheless demoralizing, having persuaded myself that we were reaching the final stages of the run.
Running beside the massive Colorado River having crossed via the Silver Bridge
But sure enough the climb began. I crawled slowly up a rocky and steep section of switchbacks appropriately named the Devil’s Corkscrew. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky and despite the slow pace I worked up a sweat for the first time. After another thousand feet of climbing, the trail became run able again following the floor of a riparian valley to the Indian Gardens. Here we encountered our only mule train of the day which required us to scramble up on to a rock to keep our feet from being crushed.
Last ditch effort up the final switchbacks. Our starting point is beyond the horizon in the background
Departing Indian Gardens, our second and final fueling stop, the mile marker read 19. My tank was almost empty and running becoming more difficult. The final four miles were the most challenging of the day. The trail kicked upwards several notches. Switchbacks endlessly reached towards the sky. The added obstacle of a large number of people, between which we had to weave, resulted in a speed hike. But for the last 100 yards I dug deep and managed a feeble attempt at running that popped me up and onto the South Rim. It was about 6 and a half hours after we dropped in from the North Rim.
My insane and grandiose plan was completed with no adverse affects other than extremely sore and tired legs. In sum it was a blast. As we discussed our epic and fun adventure over medicinal martinis in the cocktail lounge of the El Tovar Hotel, I laughed again. This time my laugh was for real.
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Seasons of Siberia
After a long summer with a busy schedule of trail running, my body has recently reminded me it is time to ease off. And with the fall being so short I knew this past weekend was likely one of the few opportunities to get a peek at the leaves changing at elevation. A high altitude hike was therefore in order.
Our destination was an unnamed pass between Siberia Peak and Snowmass Mountain. Only one of several maps of the area showed a semblance of a trail to a 12,600 divide which would apparently provide unrivaled views of the south ridge of Capitol Peak.
As I hiked up the steep trail in the North Fork of the Crystal River drainage, the sun beat down, reminiscent of August. The snow covered peaks in the background reminded me of winter closing in, though the trail was dusty and hot. And I wondered why I had decided to carry a large pack with a wardrobe fit for a multitude of seasons.
With 3,300 feet to climb in an estimated 4 miles, the trail was a grunt but easy to follow. Well traveled, it took us to the base of the west face of Snowmass, a popular ascent route for this 14er. Forgoing the 3,000 feet of loose talus climbing on the face, we headed up valley in search of Siberia. After clambering up a rocky knob of tundra we reached Siberia Lake. Almost immediately the weather and the terrain became more rugged and ominous clouds rolled in. While boulder hopping around the lake we quickly took shelter, putting on rain jackets to fend off the graupel pelting down. Now I was glad of my pack and all it contained. The lake was small but deep and cold. An icy slab of snow descended into it, never to melt this year. The clouds continued to build in, dark and foreboding.
With haste we covered the dangerous large and loose scree of the final 1,000 feet up to the pass and were rewarded with looming views of Siberia, Capitol and Snowmass. Despite a short break in the weather, it was still chilly, seemingly a different season from just two hours ago when leaving the trail head. Lunch was hurriedly eaten while hunkered down behind a rock. At 12,600 feet the terrain and weather were both harsh. A fresh dusting of snow covered many of the surrounding peaks. Winter was definitely coming at this altitude.
On our return journey we saw fresh snow underscored by the vibrant orange of the aspens. A carpet of gold coins now covered our way back to the trail head. Gloves and hats covered our heads. After a long hot summer, change is in the mountains.
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Falling for Fall. All Over Again
It seems that every September I fall in love all over again. With fall. The exquisite colors and smells, the unpredictable weather, holds me rapturous for a brief but blissful time each year. The shortness of the season seems to heighten the senses and the intensity of the experience. Knowing that I have but a few weeks to soak it all in, I take every opportunity to do so. If there is a better way to spend a day than wandering through an aspen forest, dappled sunlight shimmering through the golden quakies, I don’t know it. The crunch of leaves underfoot, a ripe and musty smell rising from the vibrant undergrowth, a breeze blowing soft and warm one minute, turning to a cold downdraft from the snow-dusted peaks the next, the mountains are preparing to sleep. And I can’t get enough of it. Here are some pictures of my weekend of romance with autumn.
Hiking down a mountainside with a panoramic view of the Raggeds.
Tikka likes to get out as much as I do. Chasing chipmunks and searching for water are her priorities though.
The foliage of the undergrowth in this avalanche path seemed especially colorful this year.
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Loopy in Lead King
Shivering in the crisp 36 degree fall air I found myself lined up at the start of the Lead King Loop 25k trail race. Billed the most scenic race in Colorado in 2006, it is also a monster, its 16 miles looping through mountainous terrain in the Maroon-Bells Snowmass Wilderness. With 4,000 feet of climbing, most of it in the first five miles, I admit to being a little nervous too.
As the sun crept down the mountain sides in downtown Marble we were off. The first mile, rounded Beaver Lake, its spectacular views up the Yule Creek drainage a forecast of the beauty to come. This ‘flattish’ half mile section was the short warm-up. Soon enough the rough road raised itself towards the sky, its steepness reducing many, including myself, to a walk. For an hour and 15 minutes the road switch backed its way towards Lead King Divide, alternating between the dappled sunlight of the cool aspen forest and the frosted open meadows. Likewise we mere mortals alternated between an asphyxiating attempt at running and a lung-searing speed hike.
Just as I thought my wheels were about to spin wildly off into the forest, I crested the Divide. The elevator shaft had finally delivered me to the penthouse suite of the Elk Mountains. And what a sight it was. The storms of last week had left a mantle of snow on the highest peaks. The undergrowth and leaves were starting to take on their autumnal orange and yellow hues. The sky was a piercing blue and the sun was finally starting to warm my chilled limbs. To top it all off, the trail started to snake its way downwards into sublime Lead King Basin. A huge smile spread across my face as I flew down a few miles of smooth road towards the Crystal River.
After crossing the river on a somewhat precarious log we left the Basin and headed down towards Crystal City.
The road into town (population one) was rocky, loose, steep and hard going. Having passed a few racers on the climb up, I now found them speeding past me on the downhill. I was heartened however when I succeeded in passing an older gentleman in Crystal, although he had actually stopped. Apparently to drink a pale ale, he told me as he later sped on by. Blame for that embarrassing moment I laid entirely on his ‘performance-enhancing fuel’.
The last five miles followed a rocky and wet 4WD road back into Marble. Weaving in and out of the puddles, and two and a half hours out of the starting gate, my legs started to complain. But at least the road was relatively flat, and followed the aquamarine waters of the Crystal River providing me with a beautiful distraction to the pain.
I crossed the finish line in just under three hours, for about 12th place. So no marble medals for me though I did take full advantage of the racers trough, foraging on bar-b-que pork, cookies and beer. Along with the scenery, the finishers feast is one of the rewards of running such tortuous races. The Lead King Loop is top of my list.
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Great Catch at Geneva Lake
After the tough run on the Hay Park trail we settled on a short hike into the Maroon Bells-Snowmass wilderness to loosen our tired and sore muscles. The trail to Geneva Lake has incredible scenery in all directions. Somewhat reminding me of the Alps, the trail clings to the mountainside, switchbacking ever upwards. We were fortunate to see the last of the wildflowers in full bloom, since they have now been pushed above 10,000 feet.
Arriving at the lake we settled in to fish against one of the best backdrops ever - Snowmass mountain’s rocky west face. While I relaxed on the shore drooling at potential winter ski lines on the surrounding peaks Chad was busy catching plentiful trout.
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Searching for Capitol at the End of my Nose
A couple of weekends ago, with the dog days of summer upon us and respite from heat top of mind, I was searching for a nice rolling trail run at elevation. Perusing a guidebook I fell upon the Hay Park trail running 10 miles from the Thomas Lakes trail head at the base of Mount Sopris, to Snowmass Creek. With ‘jaw-dropping scenery’, ‘rollicking single-track’ and ‘the most spectacular view of Capitol Peak’ it sounded just the ticket. Capitol Peak has long fascinated me. Perhaps one of the most difficult climbs in Colorado, the peak is truly spectacular and I have seen it only from afar. The plan was to run until the point described in the book as ‘top of hill with Capitol Peak in front of your nose’. I was excited! This trail was going to get me up close and personal with Capitol! And, even better, I would only need to run 4.9 miles to get there!
As someone who has routinely run significantly longer trails throughout the summer, this surely would be no big deal. So the night before saw me propping up the sushi bar at No Coast thinking that such a short, piddling, little run could easily be accomplished with sake and sea urchin shooters as fuel. Carbo-loading be damned!
The next morning as Chad and I lumbered up the rocky single track from the trail head, sun beating down on our backs, my head was pounding. Furthermore I had a nagging feeling that I was not going to experience my usual epiphany while out in the backcountry. But once I topped out the first hill, the trail leveled out and Mount Sopris rolled into view. Sopris is a magnificent peak and never fails to lift my spirits every time I see it. This time was no exception. I picked up my feet and ran on.
Trotting through Hay Park we caught our first glimpse of Capitol Peak far off in the distance. After crossing several drainages Capitol was a little closer, but not much. So we ran on. I felt like I should have covered 4.9 miles by now, but maybe the sake effect was hindering my internal odometer? So we ran on. And on and on. I am stubborn and I wanted Capitol at the end of my nose.
After an hour and 20 minutes we stopped, exhausted, hungry and dehydrated. Normally I would expect to cover 5 miles in well under an hour. We must have run at least 7. But where was Capitol? Knowing that continuing would be folly, we turned back towards the trail head. Disappointed, I realized that rubbing noses with Capitol would have to wait for another day.
Capitol Peak - a long way off
The return journey was painful, despite the beautiful scenery. Rolling meadows of wildflowers and shady forests of aspens passed me by, but I was focused only on making it back to the trail head alive. Three hours and at least 14 miles after first setting out we crawled into the car.
My epiphany occurred 30 minutes later, in Carbondale, when I took my first bite into a big fat Crystal River grass-fed hamburger with all the fixin’s and washed it down with a huge gulp of beer. Now that’s what I like to have at the end of my nose! But I plan on coming back and getting up close and personal with Capitol another day.
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Hello and welcome to this outdoor junkie’s blog. My name is Ann and I am passionate about a multitude of athletic endeavors that take me outdoors. I live in western Colorado where the diverse and spectacular landscape presents endless opportunities to explore. From the deep red canyons to the highest snow capped peaks I spend as much time as possible on the trails or in the backcountry. This blog will chronicle my adventures whether mountain biking, trail running, or backcountry skiing - my favorite pastimes. I hope this blog inspires others to get outside and enjoy life off the trail and appreciate and respect the great outdoors as much as I do.
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Glad you had a great time Julie!
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Whoo hoo! We couldn’t stand it any longer and drove up to Aspen Saturday night. The BF was nice and took me to Buttermilk for my first REAL skiing experience! It was fabulous, but I’m so sore today I can barely type!
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Julie I would suggest taking a few lessons (Powderhorn usually has some good deals) to get you going and then just keep going out there and having fun. See you on the slopes!
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Ann do you have any tips for beginning skiers? I went once last year and am excited to go this year…but any advice would be welcome!
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